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The first time Yoji dropped by unannounced at Ibuki’s residence, a sword almost ended up against his throat if not for his own quick reflexes, blocking it with his own sheathed blade.
The weight of Ibuki’s blade against Yoji’s made it seem like he was in control of all his faculties, but his hazy stare and the alcohol that reeked from his breath more than gave him away.
“Ibuki-san!” Yoji called out in alarm, feeling the authenticity of his bloodlust. “It’s Yoji!”
Ibuki stared at him blankly for several quiet seconds, his blade still crossed against Yoji’s sword. It’s been many years since they last saw each other. Even so, that amount of time shouldn’t be enough to make one forget another’s face, right? Though, if the pile of wine jars on the veranda was any indication, Yoji wouldn’t be surprised if Ibuki succeeded in drinking everything in his mind away.
Suddenly, Ibuki dropped the sword from his grip, his eyes widening in horror as he finally recognized the person before him.
“Yoji? Why are you—" With his adrenaline down, the tension in his muscles loosened and he swayed unsteadily, almost falling if not for Yoji catching him in time.
“Whoa, should you really be drinking this much?” Yoji firmly grabbed Ibuki by the waist, helping him sit down properly on the veranda and resting his body on the wooden pillar. Then, he picked up the fallen sword from the ground and carefully sheathed it back on Ibuki’s waist. “Why don’t we move inside, yeah? The night’s getting colder.”
“Am I really seeing you?” Ibuki seemed to not hear him, reaching for Yoji’s face and squeezing both his cheeks with one hand. “You’ve become thinner. Why are you here? Weren’t you on a solo journey, finding your purpose, yada, yada, whatever that was.” Ibuki suddenly looked at him with narrow, accusing eyes. “Did Natsuki tell you to check on me? Seiichi?”
“No, I…I had nowhere else to go.”
“Did that old geezer finally kick you out of his dojo?”
“Well, I don’t want him to be the first familiar face I see after a long travel. I knew your place was spacious, so I was hoping…I can sleep over?”
Ibuki’s guard finally seemed to go down, his expression grew tender, showing Yoji a mellow smile.
“You should have said it sooner.” Ibuki took another swig of alcohol from the jar and emptied it to the last drop. Wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he dismissively waved towards the entrance. “You can sleep in Natsuki’s room, he rarely sleeps here anyway. First one to the right.”
“You’re not going to offer me some wine?” Yoji pouted. “What a terrible host you are, Ibuki-san.”
“First you come unannounced, next you want a share of my wine? When did Seiichi teach you his shameless ways?” Ibuki shook his head, “Don’t push it. If he learns I let you drink, he’d find a way to annoy the hell out of me.”
“I’m already twenty-four, you know.” Yoji reached for a jar and took a moderate sip, feeling the heat of the alcohol trail down his throat. “Ugh, strong stuff.” He put the jar back almost immediately. “Changing my mind, I don’t like your wine.”
“You’re still a kid, alright. You and Natsuki, both.” He took the jar Yoji just drank from and hugged it close to his chest. “Go now and rest, I won’t be coming inside any time soon.”
It wasn’t lost on him that among the enchanted blade wielders, Ibuki took the worst of the tragedy at the island. Not only did he isolate himself right after returning the blades, but he also pushed away those that were closest to him. Samura had tried to talk sense with him, but Samura had his own ghosts to face, and thus it never really moved forward.
Yoji alone, who was close enough to everyone to be able to curry a favor or two by pulling a I’m-the-youngest-wielder card, but distant enough that they never fully opened their hearts to him, was able to approach in such brazen manner, taking in a carefree attitude and never touching on sensitive topics. After all, despite fighting in the same war, they couldn’t help but still see him as a kid. It had been frustrating, but it’s helping his case right now.
“I’ll be troubling you then!” With a skip to his step, he entered Ibuki’s residence and headed straight for Natsuki’s room.
The only problem was, Yoji found it hard to sleep in new places. Before the war, the only two places he slept in were the Shirakai dojo and the old estate from where Samura had saved him from. In the camp, there was little sleep to get until victory was ultimately achieved. And throughout his journey so far, it would already be a good rest if he got three hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Ibuki called this Natsuki’s room, and though Yoji had never been in this specific room before, it looked very familiar, as impersonal as every other run-off-the-mill inn he had been staying in the past years. Ibuki and Natsuki used to be so inseparable at camp, and at one point, Yoji even envied the bond between the brothers and wished the same for him and Samura. He thought that Natsuki would be staying here more often, however, the enchanted blades changed everything and the tragedy at the island even more so.
As Yoji ruminated on his thoughts in silence to lull himself to sleep, he heard Ibuki finally come in, his heavy footsteps resounding in the almost empty residence. It had probably been over an hour since Yoji came inside. Did Ibuki continue to drink for the rest of that time?
A door creaked open, then a faucet ran for a few seconds. After a while, Yoji heard something liquid dripping in another pool of liquid…was that…? He must have forgotten he had a visitor and did not close the bathroom door. Finally, the sound of water flushing came and another run of the faucet, and then Ibuki’s footsteps sounded once more walking towards the next room. Not long after, Yoji heard snores.
“Ah, I wish I could fall asleep so easily like that.” He thought to himself. Should he sneak out and try some of Ibuki’s alcohol? That seemed to help.
To Yoji’s surprise, the snores that came from Ibuki’s room worked like a lullaby. Just by listening to those engine-like sounds, he felt his eyes become heavier, his own breath calming to its weirdly rhythmic timing.
But just as Yoji was about to enter a dream where he stood before a vast expanse of water, a familiar yell dragged him back to the conscious world, startling him awake. And the yelling didn’t stop. From Ibuki’s room, Yoji heard a name he didn’t think he’d hear again so soon –
“Akemura! Stop this!”
Yoji rushed in panic, running barefoot to the next room, and when he opened the door, he saw Ibuki thrashing around on his bed, his eyes still closed, face contorted in an agonized frown.
“You’re killing everyone…please…”
“Ibuki-san!” He ran to the bed and grabbed Ibuki’s shoulders, shaking hard. “Ibuki-san! Wake up! You’re at home! You’re not in the island anymore!”
Ibuki groaned in pain, but it seemed like he had finally been shaken off from his nightmare. Slowly, Ibuki opened his eyes, staring back at him with a wide, crazed look, his breathing ragged.
“…Yoji?”
Yoji nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “It’s me.”
Still in a daze, Ibuki looked around him.
“You’re home.” Yoji added, helping to ground Ibuki to reality.
“I’m home.” Ibuki blankly repeated like a mantra. After a while, he finally propped his elbows up and sat up on the bed, the falling blanket revealing just how sweat plastered his body was. He wiped the tears that streaked the side of his face with the back of his hand, exhaling slowly, as if this was a whole routine he already got used to. “I’m home.”
“Do you…want to talk about it?” Yoji offered, his voice low and full of concern.
Ibuki immediately shook his head.
“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.” Ibuki showed him what seemed to be an attempt for a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”
Yoji bit on his lower lip, feeling helpless. During the war, Ibuki had been nothing short of caring and thoughtful, treating him like how he treated Natsuki. Where Samura was strict and distant, Ibuki made up for it by being even more doting than the rest. Samura had reprimanded Ibuki about it so many times, but Ibuki never took those scoldings seriously. And once Samura was once again out of sight, he’d be back spoiling Yoji with extra food rations, showing off cool tricks with Kuregumo, or just simply spending time with him and Natsuki. There was nothing more Yoji wanted than to return even a little of that care to Ibuki.
“I still dream of it, too.” Yoji shared, staring down at his hands. “The island. That day we crossed the sea to subdue…him. But no matter how many times I dream about it, I never cross the sea again. It’s not that I don’t want to save those people, but I know it’s a dream. I know nothing will change even if I swam those waters with all my might.”
“But you keep dreaming of it.” Ibuki pointed out. “Just like how it’s…he’s my recurring nightmare.”
The name he screamed for remained unspoken between the two of them, the gravity of the crime that which he committed, the crime they couldn’t stop, hung over their heads like an axe that could fall anytime. And the government chose to keep that axe up, held by lies and a brittle hope that no similar tragedy would occur again. They told them this would allow them to live in peace, but the moment they stepped off that island, they were already dead men walking.
“We carry the ghosts of that island in our own ways.” Yoji looked up at him with a forlorn expression. “But what I wanted to say is that you don’t have to be alone. I understand if you don’t want to drag Natsuki into this, but you also have me. I’m not just some kid. We fought together, side by side. That trust you showed me, it doesn’t have to stop there.”
Ibuki’s eyes held so much anguish that it pained Yoji just holding his gaze. At the back of his mind, he wondered if Samura’s eyes would hold the same pain if he hadn’t blinded himself so many years ago. But Yoji remained steadfast, willing for his eyes to communicate everything else that needed to convince Ibuki to share his burden.
Finally, the tension in Ibuki’s shoulders dissipated, and his eyelids fluttered as he looked down and reached for Yoji’s arm, wrapping a hand around his wrist.
“Can you stay here? Even just for tonight.”
Yoji didn’t need to be asked twice. He climbed into bed next to Ibuki just as Ibuki scooted over to make space for him. Ibuki reached for the blanket and covered them both, resting his hand by Yoji’s waist and pulling him close as they laid down. Yoji was warm. Ibuki had almost forgotten what another human body felt like, how another person’s heartbeat would feel against his skin. How it reminded him that he himself was alive. Yoji returned the embrace. It was comforting.
“I might have the same nightmare again.” Ibuki said as he started to doze off, oddly feeling safe in going back to that dream now that he had somebody next to him. “It never goes away.”
“So be it.” Yoji said reassuringly, his voice reverberating against Ibuki’s chest, like a calm pat to his heart. “You’re not alone now.”
Ibuki fell asleep.
The nightmare did not return that night.