Work Text:
do you remember?
thirty something years of history, swept behind us in a flurry of sakura blossoms and rushing rivers. this we leave behind amongst the grasses of two different paths- the heaviness of boots, the sound trailing away, and the lightness of slippers lingering and turning toward the scenery before finally walking on forward. sakura trails behind us until there is nothing left. as if we were never one.
it’s just like you had never smiled at me that first time, like we’ve never struck swords trying to outsmart each other, like we didn’t laugh and cheat to tip the scales in our favour, only to end in draw after draw after draw. like all the tea we spilt and all the chestnuts we ate never existed, like our tree never existed, even though it still stands- the flowers of our youth long gone.
thirty years of sparring between you and i- and i have come out victorious, but at what cost?
we never remembered when wooden swords became metal, when my hair grew longer and your eyes lost their sparkle, when spending every day together became never seeing each other again. now, i clear out your belongings from a place you could hardly call ‘home’ (and i could call nothing home but you) and find the carving of my name into your sword smoothed over, as if someone had rubbed it over and over. how many nights were you thinking of me?
i know you cut yourself making that carving- the image is clear as day, and the blood on my name speaks for itself. i was there, watching your pocket knife cutting patterns into our training swords. it makes me bittersweetly happy, even though the sword is dusted over, the hilt once again left untouched, never to be caressed again. you bled for me before you bled for the world- even though i cannot reach you to reciprocate ever again, i know you’ve always had an inkling. even though you love the world so much, the first blood you had ever shed will forever be mine, etched and weaving between the kanji i trace the dust from even now. so intricate and neat, and so unlike you.
(the matching carving of your title is still intact upon the hilt of mine. i have not dared to mess up the handiwork of a fifteen year old genichiro for thirty years- let him be ignorant, and let him be happy.)
we’ve never needed words, haven’t we? why is it only now, that something we had understood in our days together shines blindingly out to me many seasons after?
if i had shed blood with you, would you have stayed by my side?
(the sound of a knife, cutting into wood. “i love you.”)
(the sound of wooden swords clashing and heavy, panting breaths after going at it round after round. “you’re the only one for me.”)
(the sound of boots turning and growing further. “would you stay by my side, always?”)
(a sword thrust between us. “you’re the only person i want to ever be the death of me.”)
(metal falling to the floor. “if only we could have avoided this. if only you could have loved me forever.”)
(shallow breathing. a hand strokes through hair. “you’ll always be a hero to me, no matter how foolish you are.”)
now, i bury the past under the fallen sakura blossoms. the matching carvings lay next to each other in the bed of flowers from our youth, still stuck in a past when we were fifteen and we loved so much we thought we could be forever. fifteen year old genichiro smiles beneath those flowers, still on our tree, offering a cup of hot tea to a fifteen year old yukichi who coughs and tries to protest, both knowing said complaint was half-hearted. their innocence will go on for many years to come, like the cherry tree that used to be ours- still standing strong many years after its flowers have left.
i will love you as the tree stands. battered and tall, no signs of ever bearing flowers or ever falling to the soil. i love you as the river flows, reckless in its being.
we sit and talk together, just like the old days. unlike yourself, you leave your sake cup untouched.
(“you love me, yukichi!”
“shut up.”)
(“i love you.”)