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"It's been a while, huh?" Tecchou murmurs, crouching down on the ground with a quiet groan. His body isn't the same anymore: too much time has passed, too many wounds have healed. Cold wind brushes through his hair, messing it up and reminding Tecchou of how long it has become—the longest part falls down the middle of his back, making him wear a low pony tail almost all the time. Some of the strands are turning grey, but Tecchou isn't sure if it's happening due to aging or having a bit too much stress in his now relatively calm life.
His amber eyes have lost their spark a long time ago, but something still softens in them when his gaze darts over the graves of people who once were closest to him. Tecchou never really tells his fellow Hunting Dogs about his past—only Jouno knows the details, but he had become an exception long before Tecchou even realised it. Now that all four of them are retired and Fukuchi is lying dead under ground, Tecchou no longer needs to explain where he goes every time this day of the year comes. His past has always been something precious to him despite the horrors it holds.
His fingers tighten around the white chrysanthemums on his lap. Tecchou has been visiting these graves since he was just a teenager, and he'll never forgive himself for forgetting when the first time he came here was. He doesn't say anything, simply grounding himself with the sounds of nature: wind is wandering around the trees, playing with the leaves, while some birds are flying around, communicating about something in their language. Tecchou's glad it's not raining today, but the weather still could be better. The sky is covered with grey clouds and the sun is nowhere to be seen, but he knows it's somewhere there. Perhaps, if it was warmer, Tecchou wouldn't feel this devastated.
He swallows, before carefully placing a small bouquet of the flowers on the first grave. His eyes watch the chrysanthemums decorate the dirty ground and he thinks he should've cleaned it before coming here. Even without an ongoing war, his life's been busy. Normal people will never know what it feels like when a soldier, who's been fighting for his whole life, has to adjust to a new reality. There is no need in fighting anymore, his place is taken by younger soldiers, full of will to protect people and chase justice. Tecchou never lost his will and if he could, he would've stayed on the battlefield until he died. It was Jouno who made him accept that his time has come and now he can rest and finally learn how to be a human and not just a weapon.
But how can Tecchou explain to him that it's not just about the battle between peaceful life and old habits? He still remembers the promise he made 29 years ago when one of his comrades was dying right in front of him. "I'll never stop fighting for justice. I promise," Tecchou said, wiping away tears because soldiers weren't supposed to cry. That man was only 24 when he was killed by the enemy forces. His name was Hazumu. The man was 8 years older than Tecchou and was the first person to teach Tecchou how to survive in the world of war: he taught him how to fight properly, how to run faster, how to hold his sword which was too big for him. So when Tecchou was 16 and had to wipe away dirt from Hazumu's face while he was bleeding to death, he didn't have another choice but to promise to dedicate his heart to fighting.
Thus, retiring felt wrong. He was supposed to take his last breath while protecting people, and not while lying on a comfortable bed, surrounded by eerily calm silence, which he still can't get used to. It's hard for Tecchou to understand how Jouno managed to escape the world of blood and violence so easily and accept the new reality. Maybe their goals never actually matched after all, maybe Jouno wanted everything to finally end so he could also relax and get rid of the burden of being a soldier.
"I apologise for breaking my promise, Hazumu," Tecchou finally whispers, staring at the black-and-white picture on the gravestone. He doesn't reach out to touch the photo or brush the stone with his cold fingers. Tecchou puts the rest of the flowers away and shifts on the ground, kneeling now, and bows until his forehead almost touches the dirt. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly, licking his lips. It's been less than a year since he retired—roughly 10 months—but the last time he was here, he was sure he wouldn't abandon his goals.
He doesn't know how long he stays like this, but when he straightens up and looks at the gravestone again, he can't really see it clearly. Tecchou frowns and reaches out with his hand to wipe away whatever he got in his eyes, but freezes when he finds tears that weren't supposed to be there. He inhales sharply and blinks a few times, trying to hide his vulnerability from the eyes of those who can't see him anymore. Tecchou doesn't want to seem weak in front of the person who taught him how to be strong.
He wipes his tears away, but his cheeks remain wet and his shoulders slump. He looks away just for a second, before returning his gaze to the picture of Hazumu. "I wish you were there to tell me not to cry when I have nothing to cry about," Tecchou murmurs, his voice suddenly softens. He holds himself back but fails and allows himself a sad smile. "I'll always be grateful to you, Hazumu. I'm sorry I haven't become the soldier I promised I'd be. And I wish you could also experience what it feels like to have a normal life," he pauses, looking to the side with a sorrowful chuckle, "can't believe I'm older than you now."
His gaze finds the remaining white chrysanthemums, and he carefully picks them up again. "I shall talk with others now," Tecchou murmurs, not daring to look at Hazumu's face, "Goodbye, my friend." He slowly gets up, wiping the remnants of his tears with his free hand, and takes a few steps forward, stopping in front of another gravestone. Danshin, his first best friend.
This time, when Tecchou smiles, he doesn't think twice. He crouches down and reaches out to briefly trace the picture of the young boy. He was 18 when he died. It was a brutal death, but it never seemed to be able to wipe away a smile from Danshin's face. Tecchou remembers him being the sunlight of the squad. He still doesn't know how he managed to be both a playful and joyful child and one of the most resilient soldiers.
"Hey, buddy," Tecchou says quietly, eyes tracing the features of his smiley face. "I'm not gonna cry in front of you. Don't even ask," he chuckles and pulls his hand away, resting it on his lap. He carefully places another bouquet of flowers on the grave and doesn't say anything for a few moments, wandering in the memories of their friendship. He still wonders how they even became friends: Tecchou has always been reserved, too focused on others and justice, too quiet and calm. Danshin was the opposite: he talked a lot, didn't find it difficult to make friends, was the one to make the most noise in the room. Yet, somehow he became someone who made Tecchou laugh even during awful moments.
"I have grey hair now, can you imagine?" Tecchou murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing the petals of the flowers. It's so wrong that he has to bring them for people, who were supposed to survive just like he did. Tecchou often questions his destiny. Why was he the one to be on the winning side during the war? Why did he turn out to become a Hunting Dog? Why does he live and they don't?
His mother would probably say that everything's God's plan. She was always a religious person, and Tecchou used to agree with her beliefs when he was a child, but seeing so many deaths made him change his mind. He was 12 when he felt that terrible feeling of disappointment. His mother prayed for him and his comrades, she said God would never let good people die. But he did, and that was what made Tecchou regret that he even believed in him. If God had been there, Tecchou wouldn't have to visit his comrades' graves. They were good people, some of the best he knew. But they died, and thus God died for Tecchou.
"I still miss you, Danshin," Tecchou sighs softly, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before meeting the now forever happy eyes of his best friend again. "But I've found a new best friend. My husband. It's been so long since he appeared in my life… And just like it was with you, I don't know how I let him in. But he's truly the one for me," Tecchou chuckles and thinks that if Jouno heard him right now, he would huff and mutter that he was being too sappy. The sad smile is still on his lips, but it's tinged with so much gratitude he still holds for his first best friend that Tecchou almost wants to cry. He wishes he could hang out with him again.
"Nah, I won't cry again…" Tecchou whispers more to himself than to anyone else and blinks a few times, not letting the tears fall down his cheeks. He isn't afraid to look weak in front of Danshin—he saw him cry a lot of times. Tecchou just doesn't want to upset him with his tears and grief. Danshin brought so much fun and joy in his life when they were supposed to be miserable and afraid, that it'd be so disrespectful to brush off his efforts to make Tecchou happy and show his sadness after so much time. "Thank you for being my sun back then," he murmurs, ignoring the way his voice wavers, "you can rest now."
Tecchou forces himself to stand up, holding the last bouquet of white chrysanthemums in his slightly trembling hand. The next grave is his first commander. The person he will respect till the day he dies. Tecchou stares at the gravestone for a few moments and then kneels in front of it, quietly placing the remaining bouquet on the ground. "Commander," Tecchou greets him calmly, almost as if he's still on the battlefield under his leadership. His name was Kuniyoushi, but Tecchou doesn't think he has ever addressed him this way: for him, it was always either 'Commander' or 'Sir'. He doesn't really know what to say this time. Last time Tecchou was here, he could tell him about his achievements or about the war. What can he share with him now? That he's retired at the age of 45, while his commander died in war at 66?
"I wonder if you'd be disappointed, Commander," Tecchou says quietly, tilting his head down to avoid looking at his picture. "Or, perhaps, you'd be happy that I managed to get out of this never-ending war?" He asks, briefly glancing up to meet his gaze. It feels as if the man is still here, watching him with deep, tired, yet somehow warm eyes. He was one of the greatest soldiers Tecchou knew. He was the one to introduce him to Fukuchi. He was the person Tecchou looked up to. And Tecchou didn't even manage to last as a soldiers for as long as he did.
"If I'm ever needed again, I'll join the army. Don't doubt it," Tecchou mutters quietly, finally looking at the old picture. He doesn't say anything else: he could make a promise, he could apologise for retiring, he could come up with an excuse. But he can't allow himself to act like this in front of his commander, even if he's not here anymore. Tecchou didn't lie about joining the army again, though. It's something Jouno and he always argue about. Deep down Tecchou knows that Jouno is right—they're not needed anymore, there are new people who will do their job now. But Tecchou has always been a weapon.
How can he not be one now?
Tecchou bows again and closes his eyes. He doesn't know if he'll come here next year. Maybe it's time to let go of everything that reminds him of war and his previous life. He slowly straightens up and looks at the picture of the commander. His gaze lingers there for a moment before falling on the flowers. White chrysanthemums. He always brings them. They symbolise death, grief, and lamentation, so he never thought about bringing something else. He brought a bottle of sake a few times, though, but that happened only on the anniversary of the death of each of the three. Tecchou finds these flowers even too beautiful for their meaning. It's such a shame that they aren't able to see them, to see their beauty, to see the beauty of the world when there is no constant wars and danger.
He slowly gets up, not shaking off the dirt from his pants. Tecchou looks at Hazumu and Danshin's graves and briefly nods before forcing himself to turn around. He hates the feeling that visiting their graves brings him. His steps are heavy on the ground as he walks towards the exit of the graveyard. When Tecchou spots a familiar figure waiting for him outside, he lets out a small chuckle.
"You came again," he says quietly, not disturbing the sad peace this place holds.
"I did," Jouno answers with a small nod, unfolding his arms. "It's cold here and you didn't bring you jacket again," he scolds, but there's no typical annoyance in his voice. Only now Tecchou notices the coat Jouno is holding in one hand. He quietly reaches out to take it and mumbles a quiet 'thank you' before putting it on.
"Taxi is waiting," Jouno says quietly and tilts his head towards the car. Tecchou looks there and nods, stepping closer to his husband.
"Come on," he murmurs and reaches out to brush a strand of Jouno's hair from his forehead. He doesn't huff like he usually would and instead walks with him towards the car, letting their shoulders brush every now and then. Tecchou doesn't say anything else, allowing for the comfortable silence stretch. Jouno has always come to pick him up since the moment he found out where Tecchou went every year. It's his way of showing that he's here because he knows how lonely Tecchou feels every time he visits these graves.
Tecchou will forever be grateful to him for that. Jouno never really says anything to cheer him up or distract him: he lets him grieve and just stays near, giving Tecchou an opportunity to lean on him.
"I ordered takeout for dinner," Jouno mentions quietly as they walk, "from that place you like."
Tecchou doesn't hold back a small smile. "Thank you." He falls silent again, but something in his heart warms up. Tecchou'd always known that behind that facade, Jouno is a good person. After so many years together he's learnt to read him and understand that his actions speak louder than his words. And that what brings Tecchou the most comfort when he needs it the most.
He glances at the graveyard for the last time before getting into the taxi and greeting the driver. The weather is still gloomy, the sun didn't appear to say goodbye to him. But Tecchou doesn't mind. He just hopes that it'll brighten this place every day after he leaves.