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“Why are you here?”
This question filled in the air between them from the moment he noticed Dororo. The ninja hesitated, usually he went by unnoticed (or was deliberately ignored), so he spied on everyone without much remorse. Now he was sitting in front of the corporal in his usual seiza position,
looking at his scarred face with glassy eyes.
“It seems to me that you’re worried about something, de gozaru.”
He hadn’t sufficiently read the mood and Dororo really didn’t understand what was wrong. But when the habitually angry shape of Giroro’s eyes were now so tired and beaten, he couldn't just turn a blind eye like he always did.
“Is that your reason to follow me? His voice growled in reply, eyes flashing darkly. Dororo nearly regrets reaching out, feeling taken aback by such a sharp remark to his expression of concern. And yet, another emotion flickered in Giroro’s eyes and the corner of one of them twitched. In spite of his prior sourness, he decidedly invited the blue Keronian into his tent. And he seemed calmer now. Hiding his confusion behind his anger, Giroro looked at the ninja, who closed his bright eyes and gave him a slightly guilty bow in turn. The overhead light of the lantern gently flickered, illuminating the Keronian opposite of him. Giroro looked away.
There was an oppressive silence in the tent. Dororo didn’t apologize out loud, either considering himself right in this situation or thinking that his good faith was enough. Giroro was pressing him with his fixed gaze. Cold and empty–to match the train killer he was.
I might have been afraid of him…If I hadn’t known him since childhood. If I hadn’t seen him tear up many times over the years over inconsequential things.
Giroro held his firearm in his hand with a rag, intending to polish it, but in the presence of the ninja he simply could not start. And that’s when Dororo was certain he was right - something was definitely concerning him.
“Did you need something from me?” Giroro began, unable to stand the silence.
“Let me hug you, de gozaru.”
“Eh?” Giroro raised his head, opening his fanged mouth. The lance corporal was a little shy, but he didn’t waver from his proposal. Giroro unconsciously set the gun down, wondering which person he hugged last. Neko, maybe (or Natsumi, but it can’t be called anything more than mockery), but he had quickly let her go, embarrassed by it.
The assassin observed his expression for the most minute of changes, not missing anything. Anticipating the exact answer from Giroro, his arms are already wrapped around the red Keronian. The hug is light and unobtrusive, it wrapped him up like cotton and Dororo smelled different. Not fetid like headquarters with its odors of rubber, metal, gunpowder, plastic, the dampness of the swamp - but gentle and fresh, with pine needles, berries and wildflowers. The burning memory of lights from headquarters immediately stopped strobing in his mind’s eye. Arguments of annoying voices faded away. And he began to hear something else - a stream, birds and wind. His heart skipped a beat.
Giroro now looked like a frightened beast to the Keronian who hugged him. The fabric from Dororo's headgear completely covered part of his face, and he rested his cheek against Giroro's head. Dororo's hands are above his waist, careful not to touch the belt buckle (Giroro might have assumed that this was a maneuver to remove the belt from him, after all). These hands did not squeeze his hands. They didn’t hold him back; rather, they protected him and calmed him down. Giroro’s heart pumped with renewed vigor, which caused him to tremble.
When he felt the trembling, Dororo gently stroked his shoulders without subtext.
“Everything is okay, Giroro-dono, this is normal.” Giroro’s facial features scrunched up and his eyes were distant, “to feel weak, to want protection from the outside, to be afraid and cry–it’s normal, de gozaru.” Dororo listed things that were so basic, but not accessible to Giroro, at which he gritted his fangs. His heart was still beating loudly, pounding in his ears, and Dororo felt every beat in his own body. There was no need to negotiate. Giroro bit his lip and inhaled sharply in an effort to choke in the rolling hysteria. He realized who he wanted to stay the night with. At least for this night.
Taking a deep breath and trying to muffle a sob, he calms down, eyes veiled from rolling tears and staring into the lantern. Heavy hands fell onto the ninja's back, pressing Dororo close to himself—full of uncertainty and trembling, letting him fall into him.
“Thank you,” He said so quietly, barely audible at this point, (the platoon would never have heard it, even if I said it directly into their ears) and Dororo, closing his eyes, nodded subtly.