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The drizzling rain seemed to pave a way for Kazuha to follow, the clouds parting to guide him to where he had to go.
Even if the sky had been crying heavier buckets that day, he would still be doing what he was doing right now; running through the rain without a single care for his clothes turning wet or being stained by the muddy ground. Such a trivial matter was nothing compared to his current goal, an echo of what was spoken earlier rushing back to his mind.
“Y-your Excellency! I have dire news! General Gorou’s squadron, he was- we were-! There was a s-suicide bomber on the e-enemy’s side, he detonated explosives all over himself d-during the fight! M-most of our soldiers are d-d-dead!”
“I m-managed to… I escaped under the c-commands of the general himself, in search f-for reinforcements-! Please! Somebody! Help!”
Kazuha remembered the terror that washed over him as soon as the young soldier completed his report, soon curling into a tight ball and attended to by other soldiers and shrine maidens. In a blink of an eye, he had sped out of the army’s campsite on Fort Fujitou, ignoring the protests of anyone that stood in his way, and sought to locate the general before it was too late. The rain was merciless at the time, thunder crackling in the atmosphere, the surrounding electricity making the hairs on his skin stand stiffly. It was as if even his own body knew of the horrific memories that would surface if he stood in this thunderous storm for too long.
Kazuha didn’t care, couldn’t care. He had grown to detest the rain, yes, but the worry that was building up in his heart was enough to push those feelings deep into the recesses of his head. At least for now. In the meantime, he kept his eyes trained on the horizon, kept his ears sharped for any sounds of an ensuing battle. Perhaps if he had asked the army strategist for some insight, he would not be so lost in finding where the missing general was.
He supposed that was what he deserved for letting his emotions overrule his intuition.
Still, there was no time for that. He focused on following the faint noises of a battle near the beaches of the island, the distant sound of metal clashing and small explosives going off being all he needed to find him. Thank goodness for his Anemo vision, as it propelled his steps towards the site of the fight. Above him, the sky remained tumultuous, as if trying to halt Kazuha in his steps. He wasn’t going to let that stop him.
It was only until Kazuha heard a louder, clearer explosion going off nearby that the rain decided to calm itself. In contrast, however, his heart sunk to his stomach.
He can’t be dead. He just can’t.
With his sword in hand and faster footsteps, Kazuha finally arrived at the scene, frozen by all that he saw.
The bruises and cuts all over his body were slowly numbing themselves, as he could no longer feel the sensation of agony flooding his senses. Was this a sign that he had already died?
Mounds and mounds of what could only be respectfully regarded as bodies were scattered across the beach, dotting the horizon with specks of maroon and fuchsia uniforms and dark-hued battle gear of their enemies. Pools of blood were slowly seeping across the sand, most of them leaking out of those discarded armors that used to house flesh, now blown up and ruined beyond recognition. Kazuha could still see some lying figures spasm slightly, even despite the dozen of arrows that pierced through their torsos, giving up the very last energy that they had left, to indulge in a pointless action that only he would bear witness to. The air was a mixture of smells, a combination of the rain, blood, and a faint but present scent of gunpowder.
It was more than an explosion. More than a suicide bombing. This scene, it was a massacre. A butchery beyond any soldier’s darkest nightmares.
And yet, despite the horror sinking into Kazuha, his spirits were soon lifted as he finished inspecting each of the bodies on the ground; none of them looked like the man he was looking for.
Was it horrific that he perceived this to be a good thing?
His attention was soon directed elsewhere as a sudden plop, the sound of metal being dropped to the soft sand that cushioned its fall. Through the careful, observant steps that he took to navigate through the carnage before him, Kazuha soon landed his sights on a spectacle that he was hoping to see.
Kneeling on the sand. Hands hanging loosely by his sides. Bruises and cuts decorating his arms and waist. His body covered in splotches of dried-up blood, the only other souvenir he received from this gruesome battlefield.
His dear companion. His partner. His other half.
Kazuha couldn’t be any more relieved as he rushed to his side, hearing his soft but present breathing, and the small rises and falls of his chest. He was alive. He was alive.
Though the cloudy look in his eyes spoke otherwise.
Suddenly, warmth. As if someone else was next to him, crouching to his now stunted height, breathing warm air into his vicinity that contrasted the cold air of silence. The ringing in his ears remained. He couldn’t feel anything other than this strange yet familiar warmth.
Kazuha’s joy soon morphed into concern as seconds passed by, and the person before him refused to move. He was so used to this young man’s wide smiles and bright eyes, almost a constant in their daily life in the army, and now, they felt so long ago, so far from his reach now. For the expression on the general’s face now, the solemn downward curve of his lips, and the sullen shadow looming over his eyes, it almost made him look like a complete stranger to the wandering samurai. If it weren’t for his drooping brown ears and slacked tail, perhaps he could be regarded as a stranger who just so happened to look like his partner.
Instead, Kazuha lifted a hand towards the general, placing it on his chin, and soon widened his eyes at the complete lack of response. Even as he directed the kneeling man to turn towards him, there was no change in those hazy eyes, eyes that lacked life and energy and all that made this man who he was.
The light in them was nearly gone. He had to get him out of there.
And yet, there was one last thing that bugged for him to inspect. Because if he could not see clearly, if his eyes were forced to be blind to the carnage before him, could he at least hear his voice?
“Gorou…?” He uttered his name softly, partly out of consideration of his now-very-sensitive ears, and partly out of a growing worry for his general’s mental well-being.
No response.
He could feel himself being lifted off the ground, his chest leaning against a soft warm surface that emitted the scent of maple leaves.
The walk back to camp was eerily silent.
The young man wanted so badly to sprint his way instead of strolling so slowly. The sooner they can get home, the better. Yet he took to heart the potential risks of agitating his passenger even more. With whatever sanity he had left in him, Kazuha had to tread carefully to spare Gorou from any more danger that could stack itself over his trauma. He didn’t deserve it.
Fortunately, halfway through their journey, the sky seemed to finally grant its mercy, seeing the two young men making their way up the path leading back to Fort Fujitou. The rain had thankfully stopped, and with the arrival of the night came darkness illuminated by the pale glow of a waning moon. Kazuha would have laughed weakly at the scenario, the sky seeming to grant mercy to Gorou only when he deserved it in such a bruised and battered state of mind and body. A cruel act of the gods that were supposed to watch over them.
Kazuha could almost hear the optimistic Gorou trying to reassure him. How he would comment that they cannot let the weather dampen their spirits and that they should still move forward… Even though the general himself would be standing close to a lit fire to dry off his tail as soon as he could.
Those somewhat comical yet endearing moments felt like forever ago now.
Despite the grimness of the present situation, Kazuha took comfort in the weight of the general on his back, his soft breaths of air brushing against the samurai’s scarf. At least he was still breathing. Perhaps slowly and shallowly, but still breathing nonetheless. Gods forbid if he stopped living as Kazuha was carrying him back home. He was certain that it would be the trigger for him to speed back home, regardless of whatever accident they could encounter on the way back that could hurt them.
Nevertheless, they soon arrived back at the campsite, where an anxious Kokomi had been waiting for them. It seemed that despite her escorts and retainers’ protests for her to draw back to a safer area around the campsite, she had wedged herself at the gates of the fort, waiting for news of her general to return to her.
As soon as she spotted the approaching pair, her tired eyes lightened up, though they soon darkened at the sight of the stationary figure resting on Kazuha’s back. As experienced as she was with the losses in their army, Kokomi wore a different face when it came to the true leader of the army. Especially if, by the looks of it, he was the sole survivor of a deadly ambush.
The samurai stood before her, shifting the dazed Gorou’s position on his back slightly. “Your excellency.” He spoke in a low and formal voice, bowing his head slightly in greeting and apology. “I ask for your forgiveness for running away so recklessly to assist general Gorou’s fleet. I should have-”
“There is no need to apologise, Kazuha.” She spoke with haste, shifting her attention to the general himself instead of the minor infraction that Kazuha had committed. “What matters is that you found him.” It seemed that she didn’t want to ask for the details of the battlefield, and for that, Kazuha was very grateful Instead, she solemnly asked. “I presume that you wish to take care of general Gorou for the night?”
Instinctively, Kazuha’s grip on Gorou’s thigh tightened. “Yes.” He replied quickly.
The divine priestess thought it best to not question his insistence to watch over the general. She trusted him, of course, and besides, it was no secret that they were close partners too. Perhaps that was another reason why Kokomi elected to allow Kazuha to take care of Gorou too, if she could tell that another moment of them being apart from each other would only wound them further.
“Then, I shall grant your request.” She declared before adding. “Please, do keep him safe.”
In little ways, Kazuha could tell that everyone in the army was worried for their general, from the tint of concern in Kokomi’s voice, to the worried looks exchanged by the soldiers on night watch duty at the camp. He was grateful that they trusted him to keep Gorou safe, at least for tonight.
“See that, Gorou?” He spoke in the hopes of cheering him up as he walked to the general’s personal quarters. “Everyone was so worried for you. No doubt they must be feeling glad that their general has returned to them safely.”
No response.
The soft murmurs around him seemed to pierce through the ringing in his ears, as the sounds of the world gradually returned to him. Soon enough, however, he was greeted by the click of a door opening and closing, and the silence of a somewhat empty home.
“Gorou, I need you to lift your arms.”
Kazuha was soon learning that taking care of a shell-shocked Gorou was not only a heavy weight on his heart, but also a task that required a lot of patience. Despite his prolonged periods of sitting out in the open, honing his astute senses and awareness of his surroundings, Kazuha was by some means, a relatively impatient person. That is, if those means involved the ones he cared about and loved the most, or if the matter was so pressing that he would disregard his desire to wait and rush recklessly into action.
The situation presented to him now was an example of both tropes combined into one. After they both entered the general’s home, Kazuha continued carrying him to the bathroom nearby, a luxury that Gorou had in his home in comparison to his troops. Even though he insisted against it, he was provided with a small tub made out of a polished alloy of crystal and carbon, one that could retain the bathwater’s heat as much as it could. This along with the bathroom’s other polished countertops and toilet felt so different and off-putting as compared to the soldiers’ bunks, Kazuha was not surprised when Gorou was rambling about his adamance to accept it from the divine priestess.
Yet now, he could understand why Kokomi would give this to him. After all, in such cases as now, Gorou clearly wouldn’t be able to wash himself properly in an ordinary shower. Not without him collapsing to the floor, that is.
He puffed a soft breath of air, kneeling down by the side of the general, who was seated on the floor. “Gorou, please.” He pressed, hoping that he did not sound too stern and tugging at his shirt slightly. “I understand that you are tired, but we need to wash you up, alright?”
The general did nothing in response. A foreboding sight, if it weren’t for the minute changes that Kazuha had observed within the past few minutes. Like how his eyes were slightly less cloudy than before, though they were still engaged in a thousand-yard stare, and how his fingers were twitching from time to time, especially when Kazuha held them in his hands, even though they remained caked with blood.
Still, despite those positive changes, he hadn’t uttered a single word during the whole night. And that alone was a rather uneasy pill for Kazuha to swallow.
He couldn’t give up though. He wouldn’t dream of giving up on Gorou so easily.
So instead of wallowing in his despair, Kazuha scooched closer to his partner, placing a warm palm against his cheek, cueing him to look up slowly. The sudden gaze from the nearly catatonic general caught him off-guard, and he soon found himself at a loss of words.
“Gorou…” He began, unsure of what to say.
Something about the general that Kazuha fell for as soon as they met was his eyes. They were lovely, really, even during the dim rainy day when they first encountered each other. So much that even in the darkness of the night, with no sun hanging in the sky, Gorou’s eyes shone like the sun itself. Bright and lively, a beautiful blue that shimmered like the waves crashing against the docks of his homeland. The rain that night seemed to only enhance their water-drop-like beauty, too. The samurai was grateful that their visuals remained imprinted on the back of his head even when they were far from each other.
Now, those same eyes that used to illuminate determination and kindness were more akin to murky lakes, polluted by the extreme horrors of battle and bloodshed. Kazuha’s heart clenched at the reality that he had to face every day.
In fact, it continued to puzzle him to no end; how was Gorou so optimistic and cheerful in his day-to-day life, despite all that he had seen during his entire life as a soldier? Nevermind that this was a unique case of gruesome warfare, what of the countless other battles that he had to face, watching his men die one by one, collapsing to the ground as arrows and blades pierced their bodies, and how he had killed dozens of men by his own hands? How many times had he bathed in this very room, to wash away the sins of war that were thrust upon him as a general who joined his troops in battle, only to attain victory at a mortal price?
How in all of Teyvat could this man touch Kazuha’s heart so dearly a year ago, when he was at his lowest due to the death of a single person?
Perhaps the realization that he would never understand this weight on Gorou’s shoulders was what swayed the samurai’s mood, causing him to lean over the sitting canine, pressing his forehead against his, his second hand raising to hold Gorou’s face gently. A common method they used to comfort each other, though this time, it seemed to be comforting both sides instead of just one. Being this close to his partner, Kazuha could hear his soft breathing, hear the soft thumping of his heart.
Thankfully, the familiarity of this action was enough to wake Gorou up a little more, as his limbs began to shift ever so slightly and slowly, enough to brush against Kazuha’s torso as they tried to wrap his arms around him.
“Gorou?” Kazuha breathed in response as he sat upright once more, startled at the sudden gesture, though welcoming it nonetheless.
A slow and gentle nod.
He could finally recognize the man before him, the familiar scent of maple leaves, his warm touch, and that glistening scarlet in his eyes. Kazuha… His name is Kazuha… And he was practically glowing with hope.
It took Kazuha a whole hour to clean Gorou up in the tub, and another half hour to dry his hair, apply medication to his minor wounds and change his clothes. In stark comparison, it took him a quick ten minutes to clean his own body up, one because he didn’t want to leave Gorou alone for too long, and two because he was fairly used to such quick showers. The thought reminded him of how Kazuha would tease Gorou of how he would take long showers under the guise that he was spending his time taking special care of his tail. Thinking about that now felt so different than before.
As soon as Kazuha stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes fell on the still figure of his general sitting on the edge of the mattress, his bushy tail curled around his thigh and by his side. He was still quiet, even though he managed to emote plenty while in the bath (most of it was startled grunts here and there), and much to Kazuha’s surprise, the light in his eyes was slowly returning, if that small smile on his face was of any indication.
He certainly called that a huge victory in his book, regardless.
As the moon continued to hang in the sky, an indication of how late it had gotten, Kazuha made his way to his partner’s side, reaching for his hand as soon as he could to give it an encouraging squeeze. The air between them was tinted with a comforting tone, reminiscent of those nights when they both desired to be intimately closer to one another, holding each other until dawn arrived and they’d still sleep through it.
This was certainly similar to one of those nights, that much, Kazuha could not deny. If it would help Gorou overcome whatever dreadful carnage he had to experience today, he would willingly nestle himself in Gorou’s arms, allow him to cradle his head while he would caress the general’s ears and tail.
He couldn’t go so far though. Not until he asked the man himself for what he wanted. With a gentle lean against the canine’s shoulder, Kazuha spoke. “Are you feeling better, dear?”
A quick ‘mm’ from Gorou calmed Kazuha’s heart. He felt a small pep in his tone as he continued. “Do you want me to brush your tail, perhaps?”
Contrary to his expectations, Gorou shook his head instead, his grip on Kazuha’s hand seeming to tighten. It wasn’t any ordinary constriction either, instead being more akin to a child gripping their parent’s hand when they were scared.
Did those scums try to grab his tail in an attempt to kill him? Despite the growl bubbling in Kazuha’s throat, he did his best to curb his anger for now.
Instead, he asked. “Do you want to go to sleep?”
Again, Gorou shook his head, opting instead to tilt his body towards Kazuha as well. “Is there… anything I can do for you, then?” He asked.
A few seconds of silence had passed by the both of them before a soft, hoarse voice emerged from the general’s lips.
“Please… stay…”
“Don’t leave… me…”
Upon hearing his voice for the first time that night, Kazuha could finally heave a proper sigh of relief, now knowing with full confidence that his general was getting better. Even though he had little experience in healing Gorou’s stress, even though he would never be able to understand how Gorou got through his own struggles without any negative impact on his own outlook on life, Kazuha knew deep in his heart that this was the man he wanted to take care of for the rest of his life. He desired to cherish every single side of him, his joys, his despairs, his guilt and trauma… He wanted to see them all.
Because as far as Kazuha was concerned, no one deserved love more than Gorou did.