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He envisioned that his time with Toyotomi Hideyoshi would be fruitful towards learning to accept his lost past, yet he could not truthfully say to have found a resolution within his personal turmoil on the topic. He declared himself ready to return to his current master, even without the full sense of resolve– his brothers will be waiting for him, what kind of example would he place if he takes any more time?
He calms his mind as he confirms the coordinates. He counts to ten. Will others notice? A long inhale. Will his brothers see through his facade? A longer exhale. He counts to fifteen.
After all,
The Toyotomi clan is no more. Tenka Hitofuri was no more. Ichigo Hitofuri was what remained of the aftermath.
He knows the perception of others is out of his control. No matter how hard he tries to steer his reputation away from his past, the expectations always follow him. His brothers have come and gone through their own journeys of personal growth- Why can he not follow suit? Their love for him never waivered once they triumphantly returned from their journeys, and his devotion to them has only gotten stronger throughout his own as well.
It was foolish to have thoughts of stalling his return to his citadel. Osaka castle has burned, the ashes of his past-self have scattered long ago. Even if he wanted to learn more, the opportunity had now gone and passed.
–
Uneasiness within the Awataguchi school intensified as the minutes passed, their eldest brother is to return today. The anticipation of the soon to come bright light and the ringing of a bell offered a challenge to the elder Awataguchi swords trying to keep their more excitable brothers from starting a riot, even their own anticipation was poorly masked.
The same anticipation was felt by the small handful familiar with his past; for once, the expectations of Ichigo Hitofuri could not be confidently placed. No matter how much he tried to hide it, his self-disconnection reigned his reputation with a heavy hand to those who took the time to pay attention.
A bright light overwhelmed the conglomerate of swords waiting in the veranda, they all held their breath and stood still as they waited to see the manifestation of the familiar tachi. From within the light, the newly returned Ichigo stepped out, his smile smaller yet his eyes more focused– Not that anyone would notice unless they looked closely.
Any feeling of resentment was abandoned at the cuddle attack of the awataguchi swords, their resounding cry for “Ichi-nii” causing non-involved members of the citadel to look at the cause of commotion.
His self-resentment was ignored as his afternoon was monopolized by his brothers, all yearning for any form of affection from him– which he happily provided. After all, what seemed like four days to them was years to him, and the only thing that can for sure fill the uneasy void in his mind is the grounding that his rambunctious brothers offered him.
–
It isn’t until he’s alone that the personal resentment begins to surface once more. He finished yard duty for the day, catching up with Yagen regarding any schemes and pranks done during his absence. He makes a mental note to apologize to the Kunihiro’s regarding a pranking match gone too far, perhaps a punishment for his brothers involved as well.
Yet this future planning did not stop his mind from disconnecting from himself. He soon found himself in the forest near the citadel, wandering through an unmarked path. Each step took him farther from himself and back to his time in Osaka castle, passively witnessing his past-self be given praise.
The numbness of his fingers and the airiness of his mind swallows him as he finds himself sitting under a shaded tree, he does not remember sitting but has accepted this feeling of passiveness long ago. Taking a deep breath, he leans his head back against the thick bark of the tree staring blankly towards the direction of the muted sounds of the ever-so-lively citadel. The quiet sounds of nature allows time to go by without his notice, he realizes the sounds of the citadel are beginning to intensify his emotional distance as well. Instead he wonders: what is my position within this citadel outside of serving others?
The Toyotomi clan is no more. Tenka Hitofuri was no more. Ichigo Hitofuri was what remained of the aftermath.
—
Who is he?
Not Okatana,
not Tenka.
He is Ichigo, or Ichi-nii to those that he cares for the most. Never one for existentialism, yet the past continues to haunt… even if there is no memory of it.
His journey to Osaka felt like witnessing it in the third-person perspective, allure of personal growth making the reliving of those painful experiences worth the journey; yet, there was no moment where he confidently realized who he was or what he was looking for.
Instead he came back and bregrudently only left with the knowledge that he can confirm: only the present is guaranteed. Yet realizing these thoughts was not enough to bring him out of his daze, the third-person perspective has not left him.
—-
There was no denying his night terrors, or his ability to awake himself from them before any of his brothers could take notice. Even with his best efforts, his moments of weakness are witnessed by Honebami or Yagen; both who keep silent about the matter for the sake of hoping their brother gets a few more hours of rest.
His “triumphant” return from his kiwame did not resolve his nightmares. As he settled with his brothers to rest, the sounds of sleep that he dearly missed was not enough to offer him his own repose. As the minutes passed, he stared up towards the colorful paper crafts dimmed by the darkness; signifiers of memories he has made in his current home. He tries to recall the day he went to the beach with his brothers and the rest of the touken, there was not much he remembered outside of the gentle chiding of his brothers and the earnest apologies at the end of an overly-intense beach volleyball tournament.
In his memories there was no moment of just “Ichigo.” It was upsetting to consider, the answer he searched for was never reached and instead a new layer of “Ichigo Hitofuri” was added on top of the rest. Could he make new memories at his current home? Certainly. That was what he promised the saniwa in the final letter he wrote, yet that was too much of a moment of vulnerability. Following up that statement with a quip and inquiry about the behavior of his brothers, he restrained himself from balling up the letter and wasting his limited supply.
After all,
The Toyotomi clan is no more. Tenka Hitofuri was no more. Ichigo Hitofuri was what remained of the aftermath.
—-
The morning arrived as any other would, once more he did not find the resolve he looked for. His morning routine did not change at his return, the practice of waking his brothers and assigning roles to leave the awataguchi room in a moderately clean condition was systematic as always. The same steps were always taken: Yagen and Honebami helping him round up the rowdier swords, Namazuo’s attempt at helping leading to more chaos, Shinano’s loud yearning to be at someone's bosom, Houchou’s complaints about the day’s duties adding onto the chorus of yawns and poorly concealed groans. It was no wonder Onimaru opted from joining them, this daily chaos is something very few could get used to.
At least, a new form of mental stimulation came with his return: making sure none of his brothers trip on his drastically longer cape.
Expectantly, it was a challenge. Between finding and helping place intricate accessories, helping end interpersonal fights, his cape did not survive the affair without some minor scuffs and wrinkles.
This is fine. He is Ichigo, the oldest brother of the Awataguchi school, his role is to nurture and take care of them. This part of himself is one that he has become used to.
—
“Am I actually smiling now…?”
Are the first words to leave his lips at the confirmation of their success in Shirokanedai. The battle was tedious as it was challenging, taking multiple attempts to conquer the area without his team taking severe damages to the point of retreat.
He felt proud, the mental haze only dissipates during the heat of battle. Perhaps it was the ringing of clashing metal that snapped him back into the headspace to consider his mortality in the midst of battle.
“As expected from the responsible oldest brother of the Awataguchi swords,” someone enthusiastically exclaims after the announcement of his crowning MVP. His small, genuine, smile drops– quickly replaced by the perfected faux ‘perfect Ichigo’ smile that has long become part of his subconscious actions.
The fellow touken did not mean harm in his statement, but the innocent statement brought him back into the haze of reality.
Ah, but of course.
The Toyotomi clan is no more. Tenka Hitofuri was no more. Ichigo Hitofuri was what remained of the aftermath.
Ichigo Hitofuri remains in the aftermath.