Chapter Text
Blade looked down at his feet, not even bothering to widen his eyes in surprise, as his dropped sword had already done that for him.
Before his feet, sat a white cat (lion?) that incessantly cried at him whilst pawing at his shoelaces, seemingly interested in the thing as it flops over on its back and continued to twirl the piece of string around like the most interesting thing in the world. When it looked at him again, gilded eyes stared back at his blood-red ones, a glint of amusement passing through the way it slowly blinked at the man if he were to guess before it went back to his shoelace again.
The sword stays dropped to the floor, unmoving.
“Guess you found the General then.” A voice echoes from the chambers of the grand hall, Blade doesn’t even need to turn back to realize that the divination girl has come. Even with his back turned he could feel no killing intent, so the dark-haired man decided to spare her a few minutes to explain exactly what this is, hoping that what he had thought of wasn’t coming true. The clack of her heels sounds through the corridor and Fuxuan stops a meter away from where he stands, still occupied by the goddamn cat by his feet. “I think you’re smart enough to figure out exactly how this had happened.” The divination girl sighs, and Blade spares her a glance through his peripheral to catch the look she gave him, accusing, almost.
“The cat is him.” Blade answers simply, mouth curling downwards when the girl’s head dips, in what he could only assume is exasperation for having to pick up after Jingyuan’s random messes all the time. She doesn’t answer him, but the lack of one is enough of an explanation anyway. Blade scoffs and reaches down, hand still bloody from fighting earlier, and picks up the ball of fur by the scruff.
It (it?) meows again, this time more high-pitched, as though demanding that Blade not carry it (him? It was still Jingyuan after all) by the scruff and extends his cry until all the air in the General’s lungs run out and leave him breathing harder. Blade only stares at the mountain of fur, mouth pressed into a thin line, but settles the cat into his forearm nonetheless.
He purrs the instant the Stellaron hunter’s arms tucked underneath him and dozes off, in typical Jingyuan fashion he supposes. Blade turns around and addresses the divination girl with a pointed gaze, he’s not probing, but he’s not leaving here without answers either; the man partially admits his mistake in letting Jingyuan’s unusual behavior go past his eyes, but he can at least fix the rest.
“How do you fix this.” It wasn’t a question he posed.
“Depends on him, really, if he wants to go back.” The girl answers flatly, as though expecting this.
There’s a throb behind his eyes, and Blade promptly closes it. It had been a long week of him battling everything under the sun, including the General. He didn’t need the flare of the Mara crawling up behind his skull to make his life worse than it is; but he doesn’t really get a choice in choosing what time the disease should choose to strike his brain. The cat in his arms meows sadly, already woken up from the jostling and minute shaking, soft paw-pads tapping at his hands in comfort or curiosity, Blade couldn’t really tell.
It doesn’t take much to remember the events that led up to this happening, the closure of his eyes were the prelude to the series of images that flash behind his eyelids to retell the context.
.
The sun feels hot on his clammy skin, the feeling of blood dripping down his forearm from a rather deep cut doesn’t help either.
He’d been chasing some of the Mara stricken soldiers as a way to combat his own pulsing uncomfortably in his head, Blade doesn’t feel much of the pain anymore; a much-needed effect from Kafka’s insistent nagging on his timely treatment, as well as Jingyuan’s more recent appearances in his life. Blade doesn’t want to admit it, but the General’s presence had been working to stave off some of the nasty byproducts of Mara infliction, a more endurable headache is better than having a splitting migraine after all.
But when he comes and visits the General, sitting leisurely with his arms crossed by the Star-Chess table, seemingly slouching over in sleep, does Blade finally come closer to the pavilion garden after moments watching over a wall. The hunter doesn’t take more than three steps from where he is, choosing to stand right where the grass is tickling his ripped pants and into his scarred flesh underneath. Blade chooses to stay silent, he’s good at that at least, better than this new agreement he’s been trying to do with the General.
The breeze seems to carry the smell of blood with it, and Blade doesn’t get a chance to flinch or look away before Jingyuan’s gilded eyes fall right onto his own, a lazy acknowledgment of Blade’s arrival at his private estate. None of them make a move, the dark-haired man still stands where he’s frozen and the General still slouching over the Star-Chess table set up in front of him. The wind seemed to be colder, today.
“Fancy seeing you here, Ren.” Jingyuan finally greets, his eye never leaving Blade’s own, paired with the mention of his name makes Blade shiver, from both unpleasantness and foreign comfort. He doesn’t say anything back in response, simply standing as if cemented to the grass below him; words can’t leave his dry mouth and syllables that Blade tries to form all fall flat on its meaning until he finally gives up trying to say anything and let his passiveness speak for itself. Jingyuan was a smart man (always was) and quickly smiled at him, finally turning his back away and tearing those piercing eyes away from his face. “Seems like you ran into a bit of trouble, then?”
A period of silence, “... Something like that.” Blade mutters, finally able to breathe.
The General laughs lightly and sets out one of the pawns on the table for him to play alone, perhaps he had considered inviting the hunter over to join him, but the man was never fond of mind games and strategic play, preferring to do things straightforwardly like how one would forge a sword. Linear, sharp-tongued, and concise. So Jingyuan retracts the offer that sits on the palette of his mouth and swallows the invitation whole in secrecy.
“I’m guessing the Mara had you looking all disheveled and beaten up?” Jingyuan teasingly asks, treading the topic of the hunter’s condition with practiced ease; it’s been a long time since the two of them even talked about it, out of the context of sparring each other and threatening one another with hollow curses he’s certain none of them mean it. Blade scoffs from where he stands, turning his head away and gazing at the sky and everything under the sun that isn’t Jingyuan. “It’s better in recent days, I guess.” the black-haired man replies, catching the breeze within the air he breathes.
Jingyuan continues to play by himself, placing a ‘Chariot’ piece next, contemplating his next move in silence. The clack of the piece sounds on the board, and it just makes the quietness even louder, he risks another look back and Blade’s gone, not even the shadow of his figure remains on the grass anymore. The General doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment, with a heavy sigh escaping his lips, the man returns to the Star-Chess game he’s playing; only if there wasn’t someone sitting directly opposite him, that is.
Sitting right in front of him was Blade, the contours of his sunken face better seen now that he’s not hidden in the shadows anymore, the sight of warm blood and lacerated skin doesn’t phase Jingyuan anymore, but it doesn’t make the sight any less concerning. “Thought you didn’t like these games?” Jingyuan inquired quietly, hand reaching for the chess piece as a dummy move, distracting Blade enough, so his fingers can lightly scrape across the scab that’s forming on the other’s arm.
“Had a change of heart.” The black-haired man replies just as quietly. And allows Jingyuan that space of vulnerability as he trails his fingers up to where the deep wound settles into his flesh at his forearm, the wind blowing past him cools the rapid hot of blood and something else. Jingyuan doesn’t say much, only looking at Blade’s wounds with a sharp eye and gentle gaze, if he had been looking anywhere else but the General’s face then it surely would’ve come off as a move of aggression, restlessly prodding and poking at places where purple camellias bloom on his skin.
The winds feel even colder, now that the sun’s been snuffed out by the clouds overhanging them.
Blade knows where this conversation is going to lead because they’ve been here multiple times already. The road ahead forks into two, and he’s certain the beaten path will continue to serve his footsteps because that’s how it has always been. Jingyuan patches him up, leaves him be (not without the sickeningly soft words he says to ‘take care’) and Blade will get scuffed up, comes back, and the cycle repeats until one of them decides it’s enough. The hunter sees the calm look in Jingyuan’s eyes, but he knows personally that it’s only the calm before the storm; he may or may not have promised the General not to get too hurt when the next episode hits, but here he is sitting in front of the General with no shame as Blade reveals the multitude of charred, swollen and perforated skin.
“... Well, that’s no good.” A pause, the wind fills in the silence for them with its endless howling. “I can’t possibly win against someone like you.” came the second part, bolted on like a last resort attempt meant to calm his own nerves and change the subject. Blade stays silent, this time his lack of words hides the man’s slowly rising guilt, rather than reservedness.
Eventually, Jingyuan lets go of his hand, and they settle down to play a game of Star-Chess, it’s been ages since he had even touched a board, but muscle memory tends to surprise us all. Blade wins by a margin of luck, and he gazes up at Jingyuan, who smiles back at him with that same old lazy-looking grin; chuckling at how rusty he’d gotten after spending too many sessions playing with Yanqing. He calls for an attendant to bring him some gauze and Bailu’s ointment prescribed for the General, and when they finally leave the chess table, gazing at the back of the white-haired man whose mane is tussled by the gentle breeze of Xianzhou’s artificial autumn weather, Blade finds himself uneasy.
Because Jingyuan’s eyes were muddied over, reflecting not the gilded opulence Blade knew.
For the next several days, weeks even, they didn’t see each other as often. Though Blade comes by for his weekly treatment and observation from Jingyuan, the General was declared ‘on business’ every single time. Although the hunter almost burned down the entire private estate just to drag Jingyuan back from wherever the hell he’s at, Blade finds himself oddly guilty for being part of the General’s avoidance. Jingyuan only ever leaves him a paper note, written in perfect calligraphy, saying to take care as always.
… Where the hell was he?
.
.
The meow of the cat in front of him drags him back to reality, and the moment he opens his eyes he’s surrounded by the vision of a heap of white fur dragging itself all over him, leaving a wake of fluff trailing after the cat with each step it takes. Blade doesn’t even protest anymore, opting to shift the cat to his other arm, where it’s less injured.
Fuxuan looks at him again, she doesn’t say much, but from the look alone he could tell the girl’s begging him to take care of the cat on her behalf; impatient hands tapping on her forearm and a terse expression that’s carefully hidden, but not enough. The hunter locks eyes with the cat again, he meows lazily snuggling up to Blade’s neck once more, the smell of blood and fire currently driven away by the non-smell of the cat. The man belatedly notes that Jingyuan doesn’t smell like anything in particular, but that might’ve just been his sense of smell was destroyed by the countless torture he inflicted on himself anyway. The dark-haired man’s head reels with uncertainty and unexpected nervousness, how could one take care of another living being (that might also happen to be your not-so-lover-but-is) when he couldn’t even care for himself?
Blade wasn’t used to affection and caring for others, preferring to talk through swords and bloodshed than through actions that heal the scars or mesh back swollen flesh; that’s not him. Blade’s hesitance to move or even say a word must’ve made Fuxuan uneasy too, because she starts stalking towards him and extending her hands; “If it’s too much, I’ll just take care of him.” The words echo in his ears, and Blade suddenly doesn’t hear anything but the buzz of his Mara and the racing thoughts in his head, isn’t this the better choice?
To leave Jingyuan in the hands of somebody who can actually care for him, and provide him with the needed cure better than this hunter who knows nothing of tender touches and communicates through pain and suffering? Maybe if he handed Jingyuan over, not only is the cat able to sleep whenever he wants in the large room belonging to him, avoid paperwork like he always wanted, and do nothing? Isn’t that better? Blade clenches his teeth, and slightly moves his arms forward.
But, his hands only tighten around the cat. The greatest betrayal.
As much as he hates himself, he doesn’t hate Jingyuan. Ever since they’re in the High Cloud Quintet, the brat had been annoying at times but never to the point where Blade would openly be angry with him, if anything it’s the fondness showing through his seemingly harsh words, scrutinizing if seen through untrained eyes, that fail to truly capture the true meaning behind each vowel. Blade knows it’s futile, the black-haired man can barely survive on his own with the Mara pulsing in his brain relentlessly like a storm never passing, but if Jingyuan was willing to take him in like a stray cat, all battered and scuffed up; then what kind of man would he be to ditch the General now?
If Jingyuan could do it, Blade supposes he can do it too.
“I’m keeping him. He’s going with me.” Words he never thought would sound so convicted slip through his teeth, tongue moving faster than the speed of his thoughts. Fuxuan looks back at the cat, and then back at him; seemingly satisfied with the answer, as she nods and hands him a booklet of what he assumes is a guide on how to take care of a pet. The front pages of it looked like it’s been carefully crafted, some words decorated with gold, and the paper quality felt expensive under his fingers, did Jingyuan have this in his office the whole time? Blade accepts the book without another word, and turns to leave without a goodbye.
The cover stares back at him, reflecting the light of the sun as the clouds finally disperse and shed a few rays through the cracks of the windows: “How to care for your pet for dummies (Xianzhou native’s edition) .”
The hunter sighs, a long week is ahead of him.