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Where, only yesterday (and it felt a whole lifetime ago), the pain had threatened to consume him, setting every nerve of his body on fire that it almost made him forget himself, he was strangely numb now.
Where he had been, only yesterday, lying in the dust of the battlefield of their victory, overflowing with so much fulfilment it felt unreal, the tiniest seed of fear had got lost in it.
Sometimes, he was afraid that he would crumble into pieces right where he sat.
Like coal pushed around in an extinguishing fireplace.
But after his brush with death, far more fleeting than the taste of Okuni’s lips on his, than Baren’s fingers interlaced with his, peacefulness had settled over him.
The danger, the Orochi, was sealed.
Nothing could harm the people he loved any more. Nothing could scare him any more.
But where he had fully understood what he wanted and what and where his place in the world was, the twin’s light had dimmed visibly. Their grins strained, the light in their eyes overcome by shadows, their hands brushing him as often as possible as if they were afraid he would leave them. They wavered under his terrible injuries, even though he would heal.
They cared too much, like always.
And nothing he said or reassured them with succeeded in alleviating their concern.
Both of them huddled near his bed on the floor. Baren rolled his pipe between his fingers, while Okuni gently stroked their tanuki’s back.
It seemed that Sakichi had to take the reins and assume the role the twins had played ever since he had first met them. The role of audacious, outrageous hope in the face of tragedy and darkness.
It was too silent if he laughed in the purgatory without them.
“I have a surprise for you.“
They didn’t immediately jump up at his words, and it saddened him, to see their diminished spirits.
(Laughing over their own death like it was nothing, but buckling under his.)
When they didn’t want to let him out of bed, he showed them the same stubbornness they had cursed so often when they had barely known each other. No matter what they would say or do, he told them, he would get up alone. And if they wouldn’t help him, he would crawl on his knees if that was what it took for them to follow him.
Eventually, after a lot of calling him unflattering names, they relented. Baren left the room, trailing smoke from his pipe behind him. He came back with a wheelchair, and after they had manoeuvred him into it, Sakichi ordered them to bring him where he wanted.
When it was clear that he led them outside the shrine, he counted on them figuring him out instantly. Miraculously, they didn’t.
Sakichi let out a laugh at that, and smiled at their questioning expressions, glad to spy a sparkle returning to their eyes again.
Curiosity was one of their biggest weaknesses, after all.
“Now open the door.“
Okuni did, since Baren took care of pushing the wheelchair, and they stepped out.
The twins looked around expectantly.
Baren started with an impatient “And what are we…“, before he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes growing wide, drawn to the sky.
The deep black-blue night sky, littered by a million stars.
Not a single cloud floated on the horizon.
Constellations stretched out over the firmament.
Sakichi had never experienced the twins so reverent and awed by something.
The stars were mirrored in their eyes, glittering alongside their wonder.
They had never seen the night sky in all its beauty.
“A shooting star!“ Baren and Okuni shouted at the same time.
Both thrust out their fingers to point at it and faced each other.
Baren whipped around to Sakichi.
“Did you see it?!“
He sounded so much like a little boy that Sakichi stared for a moment.
“You are supposed to make a wish now.“
They closed their eyes immediately, squeezing them tightly shut.
Then opened them, at the same time.
“What did you wish for?“ they asked the other excitedly.
“Wait, you are not supposed to-“
Sakichi was overheard as Baren shot out:
“A blowpipe.“
“What?! What do you want to do with-“
“And you?“
“Ninja clothes.“
Sakichi was alarmed, now.
“Huh?! Why would you-“
“I can get you the clothes, little sister,“ Baren declared proudly, and bumped Okuni’s shoulder.
“And I can get you your blowpipe, big brother,“ she said back, bumping his shoulder in turn.
Then, they crowed:
“Shooting stars are great!“
And they grinned at each other.
It was their trademark grin.
But as much as he loved to see them like themselves again, Sakichi felt obligated –as the only voice of reason in their household– to ask what they had cooked up to need a blowpipe and ninja clothes for.
Their bickering as neither twin wanted to tell him, and their outcry as another shooting star drew its tail above their heads, faded into the clear night.
And they laughed under the cloudless sky.