Chapter Text
The waves crashed against the shore while the cold wind blew against the tall grass and denbroniums. The yellow peaks and red splotches wavered slowly with the rhythm of the breeze. From afar, one could barely perceive the distant sunlight. The clouds draped over the usual blue horizon in shades of grey. It was definitely threatening to rain. Perhaps a downpour that would wash away all of his mistakes.
The scent of the sea was heavy, nauseating like the smell of fish rotten for weeks. The water was freezing and the foam created from the waves was dyed an eerie red. Severed limbs floated over the red tide, having the depths of the sea to decide their fate while their owners laid on the ground, long deceased. The casual beach critters made their way with the corpses, eating the easiest parts: fingers, eyes and ears. Moss grew away at the edges of the bones and rotten flesh attached to whatever was left of a soldier. Some were in worse condition but the odour alone could remind an unsuspecting passerby what could occur to them.
On this lone shore, his steps were heavy against the soft sand but he couldn’t escape the guilt. His hand throbbed against his chest as the other lazily held onto his blade, the weapon dragging across the seaside, leaving a long trail of messy lines behind himself. Half his face was decorated in thick lines of fluid that originated from the bridge of his nose; a reminder of having been a wrong move away from death. His robes were tainted in a deep red and so were his hands, almost every part of him was somewhat covered in blood.
Yet he believes he is dreaming; he thinks he will wake up from a bad nightmare. The reality that he is in is too much for him to bear. His senses are weak, his mind having long gone numb after he took his first lives.
Even the memory of what happened moments ago is a blur to him. He can barely walk straight, his body tumbling to the side in order to catch himself from falling over. He recalls the shogunate men running towards him, the chase on the beach and that instance of pure terror when they plunged their spear into his bicep, tearing the muscle through his clothes. What did he deserve for simply passing by a war zone to hopefully get a better chance at life? Was this how their archon treated those who didn’t succeed?
The electro vision on his hip burned brightly, the violet light almost staring back at him as if it had a conscience. He felt watched by the gem, by the symbol inside, just by the essence of it.
He began to salivate, a warning that he would throw up. His half-open eyes lazily darted over to the sides of the lonely strip of sand he walked on. His footsteps followed him endlessly on the shore behind himself like his shadow. Then, the nausea kicked in and he bent over by the side of yellowed grass and withered bushes. Remains of what you could barely call a breakfast splattered on the ground in clumps and all Tomo could do was just stare at himself.
The acidic smell made him gag again, his entire body pulsing as he tumbled away from the mess. He fell to his knees again, gasping as his breath appeared to be shorter and quicker than usual. The flashes of violence he never saw in himself arose; slicing mercilessly through flesh and bone, ripping limbs apart in a horrid display. He couldn’t help but admit he felt bad recalling their expression. He had gotten to his knees and prayed to a god in which he didn’t have faith in. Were his prayers really valid then? He just wanted to respect the dead by calling out to the deity in which they believed in.
The sensation was stronger than him as he emptied himself yet again on the droopy grass. This time, the burning pain had made its way to his esophagus. He panted at the sight of his own blood in the vomit and rolled over to his back to catch his breath. His audible struggle to breathe made him panic; he had no idea what was happening.
The last thing he recalled was looking at the dark sky as thunder roared in the distance. The rain fell on his stained skin, hopefully to wash him down for good.
Tomo woke up to the sound of water being drained against stone. The noise persisted, taking its shape into a scrubbing din. He found himself to be stripped naked, a thin cover protecting his body from the outside air. A damp towel rested over his forehead, the cold sensation giving an odd sense of comfort. From the friction against the blanket, he could tell his arm was bandaged. Yet, he didn’t want to stir too much as he didn’t know the intentions of whoever saved him. Truthfully, if this individual were to stab him in the neck, it would put an end to his suffering.
Luckily, the scent of steamed fish was enough to snap him out of that trance. To his surprise, it went quiet.
“I know you’re awake but you can choose to rest if you wish.”
A voice echoed through the cavern they found themselves in. Tomo decided to sit up on the rocky floor warmed from his body heat and take a glance at whoever saved him.
What he saw next stunned him to a point where he was speechless. A figure sat near the other cave wall, washing his discarded clothing thoroughly. He had hair a colour akin to the moon; it was swiftly tied in a low ponytail. The remaining locks cascaded down his shoulder or on his forehead in messy bangs. What characterized him the most was the red streak in his hair, a crimson so strong like the gaze he was exchanging with Tomo right now. The young man cleared his voice before speaking up:
“What’s your name?”
The ronin smirked softly, stopping the gesture abruptly and letting the clothes dry after having drained them for a while. He took the plate nearest to him and sat next to Tomo, offering him the food before replying:
“My name is Kaedehara Kazuha but please just call me Kazuha. There’s no need for formalities.”
Tomo’s bruised fingers held onto the plate, shivering with the weight of it. Before it could fall, the white-haired man snatched it at the base, securing the contents. Tomo sighed:
“I’m sorry… ah, it stings.”
“It’s okay. I will feed you.”
“…are you sure?”
Tomo’s expression turned to uncertainty. He looked away in embarrassment as Kazuha fetched the chopsticks.
“There’s nothing wrong in admitting that you are injured. It does not change your strength. The best is to reco—“
“Why did you save me?”
At that exact moment, the taller male had a piece of fish shoved into his mouth. A chuckle was heard, perhaps to indicate that Kazuha was collecting his thoughts.
“I saved you because it was the right thing to do. You were the only person that I’ve seen alive on Nazuchi beach. I had extra supplies so you wouldn’t have to worry about burdening me one bit.”
Despite being much shorter than Tomo, Kazuha managed to carry him all the way to this cavern. That fact alone stunned him and made him realize how strong the fellow ronin was. Their gazes met once again but they found themselves unable to look away from each other.
“Thank you so very much. How could I ever repay you?”
Tomo bowed his head as he said that to at least demonstrate that he was grateful.
“I want you to travel with me.”
Kazuha exchanged another sweet smile and added:
“Only if you want to, of course.”
“I think the experience would be… quite fruitful. Now that I’ve met you, I am intrigued to know more.”
And for the first time in ages, Tomo grinned back. It was a genuine sentiment of deep happiness.