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No matter how many times Shiba sees it, it never gets easier for him.
In recent months, Chihiro has learned to wield the katana like an expert swordsman, and his quick mastery of Enten is nothing short of genius. In different circumstances, Shiba will feel nothing but pride seeing how much Chihiro has grown in this aspect, but the only thing he feels now in the pit of his guts is guilt. Guilt over the bodies Chihiro himself must cut, over his own inability to steer the boy away from this path, over him failing Kunishige the moment he supported Chihiro on this mission, over the fact that all he can do is walk with him along this river of blood.
Guilt that with each body that falls by Chihiro’s blade, it seems to get easier for Chihiro.
“You seem unusually quiet, Shiba-san.”
“Hm?” Shiba blinks, turning his face from the view of the late-night city lights through the window, to Chihiro in his sleepwear who has just gotten out of the shower. They arrived at their hotel here in Tokyo over an hour ago and he let Chihiro clean himself up first so he can rest earlier. Shiba offers him a carefree smile. “I just thought you would prefer it to be quiet.”
“That didn’t stop you from talking before.” Chihiro walks over and joins him by the windowsill, sitting opposite a mildly offended Shiba. “Is there anything bothering you?”
Shiba snorts, the irony of the situation tickling a messed-up part of his brain. An eighteen-year-old worrying about a thirty-nine-year-old? It seems quite silly, but it is also very characteristic of Chihiro.
“I should be asking you that question.” Shiba reaches for Chihiro’s left hand then, the dominant hand he uses to wield the blade. To kill. “There were more people than we were expecting back there. Are you seriously okay?”
Chihiro’s hand is steady on his, rough and warm. Just over a year ago, this same hand was trembling and cold after taking its very first kill. And yet, as Shiba looks up and stares at Chihiro’s eyes now, the gaze remains the same – determined and resolute.
“They deserved to be cut down.” Simple and straight to the point. If Chihiro deems them undeserving to wield the blade, then they must die.
If it is up to Shiba, he’ll take on the task of finishing the enemies as needed. What’s killing to him? He is a war veteran, after all. A long trail of corpses follows his shadow. But to honor Chihiro’s dedication to his cause, he let Chihiro handle most of the enemies as long as Shiba thought they were reasonable opponents. In this way, aside from training his sword skills with real targets, he will also get used to the sensation of taking lives. On this road seeking revenge and justice, staining his hand is inevitable.
The only thing Shiba can offer afterward is his own form of comfort.
“Come here.” Shiba tugs on Chihiro’s hand, beckoning him closer.
Chihiro moves at once, standing from his spot to sit right on top of Shiba’s lap, his arms circling Shiba’s shoulders, burying his head on the crook of Shiba’s neck. Shiba returns the gesture, wrapping both his arms tightly around Chihiro’s waist, nose pressed against his collar, basking in the fresh scent of soap in his body. They stay entangled in silence, a pair of tormented souls above a bustling city.
It hasn’t been long since they got together, but they have known each other for Chihiro’s entire life. At this point, there are things that need not be said. In the absence of words, the rhythm of their heartbeats drumming against each other’s filled in for the conversations people would normally share. And that’s enough.
“You’re not starting to regret this, are you, Shiba-san?” Chihiro asks, his warm breath tickling the skin on Shiba’s neck, sending down shivers all over.
He pulls away for a moment, staring at Chihiro’s face, tracing the scar that serves as a reminder for them of the tragedy three years ago. He had watched this face for over eighteen years, and with the promise he made, he’s committed to waking up to this for even much longer.
Regret what? Leading him down this bloody path? Succumbing to his desires and indulging Chihiro’s feelings? Chihiro will have to be more specific.
But perhaps it doesn’t matter, even if it never becomes easier, Shiba’s answer remains the same.
“I’m not going anywhere, Chihiro.”