Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Gorou leans his back against the fence near the archery ring and crosses his arms tensely. He watches as the not so new recruits practice their aim with shitty bows and shittier arrows.  The Resistance cannot afford to give decent weapons out to those who can’t wield them effectively yet. They can barely afford to give good weapons to those who can. All they have are low quality, inefficient weapons, frightened fighters and a poor man’s faith.

A particularly nervous man looses an arrow that barely soars 3 feet before sliding unenthusiastically into the dirt. Gritting his teeth, Gorou swallows his frustration. Getting angry won’t help, he knows this, he knows this. No matter how desperate he is or how despairing things are, he knows it would be unproductive to show it. Everyone here can feel the murky frustration, hope slipping further away. 

Instead, Gorou pushes off the wooden fence and strolls up to the poor teary-eyed man, easing a reassuring smile onto his lips.

“I’m sorry, sir! I, well, I usually can do better, I swear! Just – oh dear, I’m-”

“Relax, soldier. It’s alright. I’ll show you how to do it better, okay? This is why we train. Pay attention, this could save one of your comrade’s lives.” Gorou gestures to the flimsy bow, holding out his hand. The man nods, clears his throat and hands his commander the weapon before drying his eyes on the sleeve of his uniform. 

Gorou nods to him, then turns to the other recruits, making sure they are all watching.

As Gorou demonstrates his stance for the hundredth time, explaining the angle of his arm and drawing focus to the position of his feet, he can’t help the feeling of loss that settles in his chest. 

They can’t win like this. 

All he is doing is prolonging his and everyone else’s deaths. This isn’t fighting for freedom, it’s barely living.

Gorou sinks into despair, and despite his smile, he is well aware that everyone else is sinking right by his side. 

The stars are starting to shine by the time Gorou crawls to his tent to prepare his daily reports to Her Excellency. As always, he puts his all into maintaining his bouncy and hopeful appearance while darting across the camp, waving at every person he passes, trying still to fruitlessly boost morale. Gorou hates it. Hates the feeling of every dull look that passes his way, every forced smile and tired thank you that reeks of obligation, it leaves a dark and bitter taste in his mouth. 

Finally reaching his tent, he all but dives for cover and lets out a sorrowful whine. In his meager privacy, given by the thin canvas, Gorou curls up on the floor in an ungraceful heap and allows himself a half hour to succumb to the horrid, horrid drowning, sure to keep his whimpers quiet and tears loose. 

Too many lives lost. Too many lives broken, Visions stolen, families torn apart, children starved. Too much too much. Not enough to save everyone. Gorou can’t save everyone. 

He wishes he could.

He’s not even angry anymore. He wishes he was. Anger was real, it was hot coals in an engine,a drive that burntwhite hot but it was real and felt good. With it fueling him, he could do anything, help anyone, fix everything; even protect people. 

But even the strongest fires can be extinguished. Gorou was left with nothing but the feeling of just barely clinging on and praying for the best, suspending his head just barely above treacherous water. 

He’s just tired . 

He eventually finds himself uncurling from the ground and dragging himself to his desk. Heaving his tired bones onto his wooden chair, he goes about preparing a fresh piece of parchment and a pot of ink. The daily reports for Her Excellency were a great idea at first, and Gorou used to enjoy doing them, showing off the progress and plans that his camp had made. It was easy to report good news when there was a budget to be spent tactfully, new recruits frequently, and talents being discovered, everyone driven and spurred on with passionate hope for a better day. But now, things have plateaued off, stagnated. Every report was starting to feel the same. The troops are slow to learn, the weapons are not optimal, rations are tight. 

Depression drenches the entire camp.

Still, even stagnancy is important information to send off. Letting Her Excellency know what’s not working and what stays the same is still key for her to come up with those clever plans of hers. 

Gorou wonders if she can feel the desperation that clings to the reports when she reads them.

Just as he picks up his pen to dip in ink, a guard bursts through the tent entrance breathlessly. Gorou yelps out a ‘fuck!’ and jumps up to attention, spilling ink over his hands and jamming his tail into his chair.

“General Gorou! Sorry to disturb you, but your presence is requested!” the guard says, her face serious and a little red with exertion. Her eyes flicker down to his hands, and a little smile twists her face. “It’s not so urgent that you don’t have time to clean that up though. My apologies for startling you.”

Gorou huffs a bewildered laugh and reaches to pour water from his drinking pouch into a bowl near his bed that’s pushed up near his desk.

“Thank you, just give me a second.” he says as he submerges his hands, the water turning black. Withdrawing his hands, now terribly stained in messy black splotches, he grumbles and hurriedly salvages whatever clean paper he can from the ink puddle, before turning to the soldier waiting.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He strides out alongside the soldier, trying not to feel ridiculous over the state of his hands, hoping that whatever needs his attention will not be undermined by his ink-ridden hands ruining his presentation.

He stops face to face with Her Excellency, standing a few feet from his tent, looking far too amused for his liking. 

Of course. Of course, this is what’s happening. 

Hiding his hands quickly behind his back, Gorou jerkily bows and manages a flustered “Her Excellency!” Just what he needs, nothing like hot embarrassment to wash down the cold drowning of war. 

At least the camp will get a bit of a laugh, he supposes.

“Please, at ease, General.” Kokomi says gently, and Gorou straightens out of his bashful bow. “Forgive me for arriving unannounced, but I’m afraid a situation came up rather quickly.” It’s then that she gestures to a man standing beside her, clutching a bandaged hand to his chest. 

Gorou quickly forgets his embarrassment and frowns. 

The man gazes back at him steadily, crimson eyes fatigued and weary, silver hair ruffled and tied messily up. The stranger holds himself defensively, yet not aggressively. 

Something bad happened, Gorou can smell blood and burning from him, and doesn't need the canine hearing he hears the soldier’s joke about when they dont know he’s listening to hear his rapid breathing from here. 

Gorou shifts his gaze back to Kokomi, and nods. 

“If you would like to take this matter into the privacy of my tent, I can help to provide aid.” Turning to the woman who summoned him, he adds, “Please fetch us some food rations, and uh. Clean water. I would appreciate it.”

She bows quickly and scurries away. Other soldiers take this as a sign to leave as well, going about their previous activities.

With another worried glance at the quiet stranger, Gorou turns on his heel and walks back into his tent, pulling out his chair for either Kokomi or the man to take. Kokomi gently touches the man’s shoulder and guides him to the seat.

“General, this is Kaedehara Kazuha, a samurai that I would like you to take in. Kazuha, this is General Gorou. He will look after you well until we can get you safely out of here.” Her hand has not left Kazuha’s shoulder, gazing at him comfortingly. Kazuha looks back up at Gorou, and gives a small, tired smile.

“Though I wish this encounter were through happier circumstances, it is an honour to meet you, General.”

“Gorou is just fine. The honour is all mine.” Gorou says honestly, a little taken aback at Kazuha’s formal dialogue. “I’m sorry to hear that misfortune has led you to us. What brings you here?”

Kazuha bites his lip and drops his gaze to the floor, and not for the first time, Gorou rues the fact that he seems fundamentally lacking in the ability to more subtly navigate these delicate conversations. His bad habit of bluntness has gotten him quite some trouble in the past, and no doubt will continue into his future too if he isn’t careful to rectify it.

Kokomi clears her throat softly, prompting Gorou to look at her instead. She opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted when the woman from earlier enters the tent, arms piled high with food and water pouches. She bustles in and starts silently divvying up the supplies between the two visitors, both of whom thank her quietly, Kazuha taking a hesitant bite out of an apple. 

The woman starts to leave, discreetly sliding another water pouch onto Gorou’s desk on her way out.

No one speaks for a beat as they are left alone once again. Gorou fidgets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and flicks his tail nervously, unable to come up with anything productive to say to the worn-out Priestess or the downcast samurai.

Kokomi is clever, she knows what to say before anyone else. 

“If it’s quite alright, I will bring you up to speed, General.”

And then, she speaks of the devastation that has befallen Kaedehara Kazuha and his friend.

And Gorou hates every word of it.

The plan is to get Kazuha out of Inazuma. He’s a wanted man, an expensive one at that, and the longer he stays the more danger he brings to himself. Getting him out is no easy feat, but Gorou has connections, and those connections have their own connections, and so Gorou promises to prepare a letter for his friend Thoma (also promising to the keep ink where it belongs with a laugh), requesting contact for the famous Beidou to collect Kazuha and get him as far away as possible.

It’s a lengthy process, and Gorou knows that Beidou is not due back to Inazuma with supplies for several months. But this seems the most logical path to him. Kazuha is skilled and can easily be of use to Beidou and organising an already established means of travel means fewer grey hairs on Gorou rather than finding something completely new. 

And while it’s crucial to get Kazuha out of the country, he is no means a burden to the Resistance during his stay. If it weren’t for the heavy bounty on the samurai’s head, Gorou would be inclined to offer Kazuha a permanent place amongst his ranks. Gorou could really use all the help he could get.

He knows, however, that option will never be available. It’s just too dangerous.

Gorou tells Kokomi of his plan to involve Beidou, and she approves with a pleased yet strained smile. It’s a risk, and Gorou knows this. But that’s how he lives now, every day is one risk after another in the Resistance. But Kazuha pipes up with his approval too, the first thing he said since introducing himself, and they all once again share a silence.

Gorou and Kokomi had found themselves perched atop Gorou’s bed while they discussed strategies and ideas, only pausing to take a sip of water. 

Gorou had noted with relief that Kazuha ate the apple. With what the poor man went through, it would be all too easy for his health to slip by. Gorou promises himself that he won’t allow that to happen. Kazuha is Gorou’s responsibility now.

It was well and truly dark outside by the time they had a full plan nailed out, arrangements were to be made first thing in the morning. The only thing left now was to-

“Kazuha, forgive me, we are all lacking quite a few supplies and facilities, bedding included. I can arrange for your own bedding to be set up tomorrow, however currently… The best I can offer you is my own or the medical tent we have. I’m sorry I can’t offer you much more than this.”

Kazuha considers his bandaged hand for a while, and Gorou notices an empty Vision in his clutches. Gorou feels dizzy with resentment. To have your life snatched away just like that-

“Thank you, but I don’t wish to burden you or anyone else. I am quite happy to sleep on the ground somewhere.”

“Absolutely not.” Gorou and Kokomi both exclaim firmly. Kazuha sits up in surprise, and Gorou lowers his voice into something more appropriate.

“Look, no one is currently ill or injured, the infirmary bed will be okay for you to take for tonight. Please take it.” 

Kazuha relaxes slightly in the chair, once again looking down at the floor.

“…If you insist.”

What does it take for one to heal from something like this? Being thrown from witnessing your friend’s murder to a secret camp where tomorrow is not guaranteed, this must be new and, absolutely terrifying at best, and downright unrecoverable at worst. 

What more will this war take from people? What more horrors must they all be confronted with? 

Gorou wants to kill the Shogun.

After overseeing Kazuha being set up in his temporary bedroom, Kokomi takes her leave. The only soldiers out now are those on watch, everyone else retired for the night. Gorou can hear snores and heavy breathing even in the confines of the medical tent. He scratches at his ear and turns to Kazuha, who busies himself in fiddling with the thin blankets. The man looks dead on his feet, looking ready to pass out any minute now.

“You should get some rest. We usually are up at dawn for training recruits or scouting, however please don’t feel the need to join us until you’re ready.” He says, and Kazuha remains quiet, acknowledging the words spoken with a tiny nod.

Gorou takes a step back toward the tent entrance, unsure how to comfort a grieving stranger. How much space should he give? Does he need to be closer?

“You know where my tent is, Kazuha, if you need anything at all, please come find me. If I’m not there during the day, I’ll be at the training ring or… or somewhere, okay? Nothing is too small of a problem for me to fix.” 

He pauses, watching Kazuha take a deep breath in as tears brew beneath his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking up through his messy hair. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gorou hesitates for a second, before reaching out and placing a firm, ink splotched hand on the man’s shoulder, and aims for what he hopes a comforting squeeze. 

“I’m gonna make sure you get through this, alright? That’s kinda my whole deal here. Tryna fix things.” Is he rambling? He might be rambling. Like that’s going to help anyone. 

He kinda wishes he could just hug the guy, that’s what Gorou would want if he were in this position. Physical reassurance always helps ground him. Makes him feel less lonely.

Gorou doesn’t hug Kazuha. Instead, he tries to speak again. 

“I’m gonna help you out of this.”

Gorou leaves the tent to the sounds of Kazuha’s quiet sobs, too soft for anyone with human ears to detect.

But Gorou hears them, even when he lies in his own bed. He hears them.

It takes less than a day for Gorou to decide he absolutely respects Kazuha. Being a leader of a resistance group against a murderous god during a war is no way a good place to make friends, and Gorou is a responsible enough man to know when to prioritise work over leisure, but he can’t help but want to get to know the strange stowaway hiding in his camp.

Kazuha had shuffled out of his tent during Gorou’s sword demonstration to the newbies, while the more experienced worked on their archery. 

The demonstration catches Kazuha’s interest, and strolls over, clutching a cooked lavender melon and his deceased friend’s Vision. Gorou guesses the latter won’t be easily parted with.

Gorou turns his attention back to the newbies, he continues his explanation of sword fighting techniques as Kazuha perches atop the logged fence. 

Gorou can admit that swordsmanship is not his preferred fighting style, and therefore not his best, but he knows enough to teach others how to defend themselves in a fight. 

As he gets them working on practice moves with each other, Gorou can’t help but feel agitated. People are fast learners, and he has every confidence that they will be skilled enough for their purposes soon, but not soon enough. If Gorou could spend all day teaching them to defend themselves, he would. But he is a busy man. He can’t stay in one spot for too long, with so many duties to fulfil.

Gorou gently slaps his face and forces himself to focus. The day has only just begun. He needn’t fret over things that haven’t passed yet. 

Still, it’s only early morning and Gorou can’t help but already feel stretched too thin. He normally always has a busy schedule, but with the arrival of a wanted man, Gorou has a lot more pressing matters to attend to. He can’t abandon his troops yet, needed them to be productive in learning, but he needs to get that letter to Thoma sent off ASAP. The camp's rations are depleting too fast as it is as well, and the supply wagon that he requested is also due to the agreed meeting spot soon. Then there’s the matter of organising new, better weapons, taking in more recruits, obtaining bedding for Kazuha, oh and he needs to request-

“If I may interrupt,” Kazuha speaks up then, tossing the lavender melon over his shoulder. “I may not be as gifted in the art of archery, however I have trained extensively in the art of swordsmanship, if I can be of any assistance to you in training these new recruits of yours, I would be most happy to oblige.”

Gorou is taken aback.

“But shouldn’t you be recovering? Kazuha, yesterday you…”

“I am a restless soul, and would much prefer to help than sit around waiting while you fight for our freedom.”

“You say words really nicely.” Gorou says bluntly, immediately cringing after. “L-look. I really appreciate the help but…”

Gorou looks at Kazuha properly. Sees how he stands, the way his hair is now neatly tied up, his clothes sitting right and ready. Kazuha looks ready. To fight, to help, to live.

Gorou hasn’t seen that kind of desire in a while. He hasn’t felt it himself for even longer.

Kazuha wants to fight for more than just tomorrow. Maybe it’s for his late friend. Maybe it’s not. 

Regardless, that is something Gorou doesn’t want to take away from anyone. Who knows, maybe this is how one might cope with grief. Sitting around getting caught up in lonely thoughts isn’t the most effective use of time, so maybe keeping Kazuha busy will be of more benefit than a hindrance to his mourning.

“Okay… okay, yeah sure. Actually, I would appreciate that a lot. Thank you, Kazuha, that would help me a lot.”

And then, Kazuha smiles, so gentle and sweet that it’s hard to believe this man could ever take up a sword to harm someone. Gorou feels a little speechless. Kazuha is far stronger than he has any right to be. He’s still kind, despite everything.

Gorou feels an overwhelming wave of respect wash over him. Just like last night, he reaches out and squeezes Kazuha’s shoulder. 

“Remember, if you need me for anything, I will be in my tent or somewhere. Nothing is too small.”

Unlike last night, Kazuha reaches out and squeezes Gorou’s shoulder in return. 

“Thank you.”

By the end of the week, Gorou feels like he’s accomplished more than he had in a month before. More than that, Gorou feels good. 

With the help of Kazuha training new soldiers, Gorou’s spare time just tripled. He managed to get more requests sent off, gathered more supplies, obtained more intel, and received letters back. He has now established a permanent intel base in a little teashop in the city and received more access to weaponry and food rations with regular contact.

Gorou feels good, and it’s all thanks to Kazuha. 

And it’s not only the help provided that makes him feel good. The two just clicked, Kazuha’s flowery words mixing oddly with Gorou’s blunt ones, but they work. Kazuha laughs at Gorou’s frenzied clumsiness, smiled softly at every awed compliment Gorou uttered, touched his shoulder gently at every reassurance Gorou gave him.

And in turn, Gorou likes how Kazuha fits in seamlessly with the rest of the camp. Everyone quickly warmed up to their new training with him, gentle yet direct teaching instilled iron-wrought confidence in the recruits and Gorou, now that there was someone who could dedicate more time and energy to demonstrations and practice sparring. 

During mealtimes, Kazuha had flocks of Resistance members offering him a seat with them, and however calm and collected the samurai was training, polite small talk was still too much. He was still a grieving man, mourning friends and dreams that just last week were still with him. Gorou watched as Kazuha would sometimes indulge people his presence with grace, only to walk away not five minutes later, opting to sit in Gorou’s tent and go through breathing exercises. Gorou tried to give him space when Kazuha did this, finding the calm breaths grounding him as well as Kazuha. The companionable silence made concentrating easier, and Gorou used this time to catch up letters and reports sent to him, sorting them into priority piles for Kokomi.

More often than not, Kazuha was sad, and when time allowed him, he would wander off for walks. He would always inform Gorou before he left, clutching the dead Vision in his still healing hand, and Gorou would watch as Kazuha turned and walked away, head bowed and back hunched in his heavy burden.

These walks happened mostly at night. It made Gorou nervous, and he could never fully relax until he saw Kazuha slip back into his tent with a watery smile. It took much restraint to not follow him out, to make sure he stayed safe and undetected by the Shogun army. But it was important to let Kazuha have space, and he was more than capable of handling himself long enough for help to arrive should the need arise. 

There was never a need for Gorou to worry. Kazuha returned after approximately an hour with a tear stained face, shuffling into the tent with a watery, reassuring smile, slipping into the bedding he was given on the second day. The third day had Kazuha asking Gorou to move into his tent, not enjoying being alone but not comfortable enough to share with other recruits. 

Gorou obliged. 

It had led to many late night conversations, hushed sincere words lit by a dim candle by Gorou’s bed.  

This is where they found themselves now, Gorou starfished on his back across his own bedding, Kazuha sitting crossed legged atop the blankets. 

As Gorou gazes at the canvas ceiling, he asks “Are you nervous to leave Inazuma? Like, despite the whole ‘wanted man’ and bounty thing. Have you ever left here before?”

Kazuha hums, fiddling with a brown leaf.

“I can’t say I am nervous at the prospect of travelling away from here. I… I like being on the move, never settling down in one place for too long. There is something quite enjoyable about letting whims take you wherever you so desire. So, there is a part of me that looks forward to exploring something completely outside of Inazuma.”

Gorou nods, but doesn’t say anything. He feels quite the opposite. He likes stability and consistency, knowing what to expect and how to adjust accordingly. Trying to imagine having no ties to a particular place, no set point to call home, it makes him feel nervous. He likes familiarity. 

“However,” Kazuha continues. “I’m not fond of the circumstances which are forcing me to go. I don’t like that. And I don’t like what I am leaving behind. Not when-”

Kazuha stops and bites his lip, eyes glossing over in memory of which has plagued him since he got here. Gorou can tell. He sees the way the pain still sears, wounds still raw and unclean. Gorou can imagine all too easily how it must hurt to flee away from the one thing you wanted to protect. Kazuha’s friend is just one of many that they all failed to protect.

Gorou sits up and rocks forward, leaning probably too close to Kazuha, trying to catch his eye.

“It’s okay. I get it. I’m sorry for asking.” he watches as Kazuha swallows and nods slightly, meeting Gorou’s stare. Gorou backs off a bit, lying back down and folds his arms behind his head. 

“What about you?” Kazuha, going back to fiddle with the leaf. Gorou looks back at him questionly. “Have you travelled much?” 

Gorou huffs out a small laugh. “Nah, I’m a bit of a homebody. Well, maybe not so much recently, but I like having the security of staying in one place. I like familiarity.” He pauses for a beat, then adds, “Although, after this awful war is done and dusted, and we are all free again, I don’t think I would be opposed to a bit of a getaway. Should the opportunity present itself.” He knows how unrealistic that idea is. It would be foolish to ignore it.

Gorou ignores it.

Kazuha hums in acknowledgment, and is silent for a long while. For so long, that Gorou nearly nods off to sleep. He is disturbed when Kazuha speaks again, almost a whisper. 

“When this awful war is over, and we have our freedom again, perhaps we should go somewhere. I can take you to some nice places I find when I leave soon.”

Gorou hates the way he feels himself perk up with excitement then crash down into bitterness at the reminder of him leaving. However, he chooses to focus on the excitement. He makes himself focus on that.

“I would really like that.”

And he means it.

It’s another week from that night that Thoma gives Gorou a letter from Beidou. 

With his ears stuffed under a farmer's hat and his tail tucked into his baggy civilian pants, Gorou successfully arrived at the teashop without causing suspicion. He’s thankful, not being in any kind of mood to be away from his camp longer than necessary. 

The arrival of Beidou’s letter saddens his mood considerably. 

Thoma and Gorou sit in the private booth of the teashop, the long dining table between them. Taroumaru sleeps by Gorou’s side, the dog’s chin resting on Gorou’s crossed leg. With one hand resting in the napping dog’s fur, Gorou holds the letter in the other and scans the words over and over, trying to remain neutral, trying to remove personal feelings out of it. 

He’s really going to miss Kazuha. 

He sighs and places the letter gently in front of him. “Thank you Thoma. I will prepare a letter to be sent back after I have discussed things with Kazuha and Her Excellency. We’ve got some organisting to do, but I think this should be a relatively quick process.”

Thoma looks at him and smiles warmly. “Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from you ‘no-nonsense’ lot.”

“Hah! I have my fair share of nonsense, I’ll have you know.”

“Hmm? So it would seem. Your disguise is absolutely ridiculous. How well can you hear right now?”

“Well enough to hear your bullshit,” Gorou smirks. “I’m gonna kick your ass one of these days, and then you’ll be sorry.”

“Talk to me when your tail isn’t tied to your leg with a fishing line and then I’ll consider the challenge.”

“Bite me.”

Thoma throws his head back and laughs freely. It’s been a while since Gorou has heard genuine joy, and can’t help but laugh as well. It feels nice, the taste of fleeting freedom. He feels like a kite that has caught a draft, soaring off the ground and above the height of trees. It’s not enough, but he’s higher enough to not feel like he’s drowning. 

“Would you stay for another cup of tea? I know you’re busy, but you look so run down, I’d hate to see you leave without a bit more colour in your face, hm?”

Reaching for the letter, he folds it and slides it in his coat’s pocket, shaking his head.

“Thank you for the offer, but I must get going, lots to get done. I’m sorry. Maybe next time.”

Thoma nods, understanding.

Pleasantly, he says, “Maybe next time you can bring this Kazuha with you for tea as well.”

It makes Gorou come crashing back down into the earth, his sticks and rods jolting with impact. It’s a hollow offer, both he and Thoma know it.

“Maybe,” Gorou replies.

A hollow promise to match.

The letter from Beidou smells like sea salt, and it makes Gorou’s nose itch. The contents in the letter makes his head swim.

It’s only been two weeks since meeting Kazuha. But that was enough. Enough for Gorou to get attached, to feel good, to get everything under control, to want to live instead of survive.

 Two weeks of having steady company, a calm motivation fighting with him, a friend. A friend that too easily grew into the space in Gorou’s tent, a constant presence that slot in so nicely into his life similar to how his bow fits perfectly in his hand. Of shared meals and shared stories, of pain and laughter and compliments and fears.

This is ridiculous. It’s only been two weeks. 

It’s not fair.

Gorou keeps his selfish grievance to himself. That night, in their tent, he lets Kazuha read over the letter while Gorou writes his own to Kokomi. A summary of Beidou’s plans and what they need to get Kazuha ready.

Beidou’s schedule will be leading her fleet to Inazuma a lot earlier than planned. She will be arriving within the month, docking at Watatsumi Island to deliver foreign goods.

Beidou wrote that she would be more than happy to take Kazuha onboard. That she is looking forward to having an extra pair of skilled hands to help out on deck, and she looks forward to meeting him. 

It’s all good news, the best possible outcome.

It makes Gorou’s nose hurt. He looks over at Kazuha, watching him read as he sits cross legged on Gorou’s bed. It must be more comfortable than his own. 

Kazuha nods to himself as he reads, finishing up with a content smile.

“I am looking forward to meeting Beidou in person, she has my eternal gratitude.” He looks up to meet Gorou’s stare, letting his smile drift into something more affectionate. “I cannot begin to thank her or you enough for helping me. It’s not the easiest of circumstances to find a solution for, but you made it work. Thank you.”

Gorou huffs a laugh. “That’s what I’m here for y’know? I told you from the start that I’m gonna help you. It’s kinda the whole deal here.” Gorou turns back to his parchment with a half finished report before he gets too invested in this conversation. 

He hears Kazuha cluck his tongue in disapproval regardless.

“Gorou... Is something wrong?” 

Gorou grits his teeth, frustrated that he’s been caught out already. Turning back to face his friend, Gorou tries to look confused.

“No. Why do you ask? Are you okay?”

Kazuha’s thin eyebrows knit into a stern look. “You’ve barely held a conversation outside of work with anyone since you got back.”

“The letter… It smells like the ocean. And beer. It’s giving me a headache.” It's not a lie.

Kazuha’s mouth falls open in gentle surprise, before holding the letter up to his nose and inhaling deeply. Gorou tries not to laugh as Kazuha’s eyes widen comically before blinking rapidly.

“Oh, it really does! Now that's an interesting concept… And you could smell it even while over there?” 

Unable to contain it, Gorou laughs loudly at Kazuha’s shocked face. The guy is too much, there’s something so genuinely innocent about him, despite everything. The simple things amaze him, he still finds happiness in those simple things. It makes Gorou appreciate them more. 

“I’m sorry, you’re just too much sometimes, it’s great. Yeah, I can still smell it while it’s over there.” Gorou reaches up and taps the side of his nose. “It’s the canine in me, I presume.”

Kazuha stares at him in awe. It makes Gorou’s face heat up, unable to keep himself from fidgeting under such a gaze. Always making him nervous, how can one man undo him so easily, he will never know.

“That is incredible. Also valuable to know. I shall ensure when I write letters to you while aboard, I will sit the papers next to some perfume or some fruit perhaps. Perhaps we could even make it a game of sorts? You guess what meal I am having, even what country I am in based on the aroma? Perhaps some different flowers or plants while I - hey are you okay?”

Gorou is a grown adult. A leader of a rebellion against an unjust powerful god and her expansive army. Gorou has seen so much blood and death and despair than anyone should have in their lifetime. He is responsible for more lives than he knows, both present and future, on his way to paving a better life for his people.

None of those things stop him from being sentimental, it doesn’t stop him from crying out of relief, out of love. It doesn’t stop him from staggering out of his chair and throwing his arms around the smaller man’s shoulders, burying him in a hug that has them falling backwards onto the bed.

It doesn’t stop him from melting when Kazuha squeezes back, stop him from whispering a ‘I’m going to miss you’ into the little space between them. 

It doesn’t stop him from wanting to stay like this forever.

It’s not fair.

He’s only known him for two weeks.

The month leading up to Kazuha’s departure goes by quickly. Of course it does, Gorou isn’t surprised. He knew it would. 

Obviously Kazuha leaving is going to wound Gorou on a personal level, but he quickly realises his absence is going to leave practical problems as well. Relying on Kazuha to train soldiers had been a great relief to Gorou and his time, but pretty soon Gorou is either going to have to go back to training them or to make other arrangements. 

It’s not a decision he alone can make, and goes about rounding up all the soldiers in training for some sort of half planned meeting the day after receiving Beidou’s sea-ridden letter. 

The weather is behaving today, quite a rare sight to behold, and has everyone in good spirits. Enough for there to be smiles and jokes and a bounce to everyone's steps. 

The relief Gorou feels just watching everyone almost makes him weep again.

Almost.

Instead, he calls for everyone’s attention, standing on his chair that he brought out, and with Kazuha by his side on the ground, Gorou begins to speak. 

“So we have seen a few changes these past two weeks, and we will be seeing more in the months to come. All this is still quite new for a lot of us, and so with inexperience comes learning, and with learning we get knowledge. 

“That’s what I need from you right now. Help me make things run more efficiently, help me make this better for you. I invite you all to share your input about our camp, what you would like to see changed, what works for you, what could be improved on. 

“This isn’t a holiday, and so there’s only a certain amount of power I have to make you comfortable despite my wishes, but I can make this work more effectively for you. We are a unit, a team to fight for our future, and for the future of all people in Inazuma, and to do that, we need to work well.” 

Gorou pauses and looks over his crowd of soldiers. They all murmur and nod with approval at his words. Kazuha gives a pleased hum. 

“Please think it over today, think it over thoroughly, and write me a letter detailing your thoughts. It can be anonymous if you so desire. I will come by and collect your letters tonight and review them, and if you would like the opportunity to speak to me then, I will be more than happy to oblige.” 

With that, he dismisses his team and watches them scatter, feeling rather accomplished.

With a smug smile, Gorou jumps down from his chair to stand in front of Kazuha.

“How was that huh? Everyone looked pretty pleased!”

Kazuha gives him a smirk, rare enough that it makes Gorou flounder, only a little bit. 

“Did you know your tail wags when you’re excited? How endearing.”

Gorou almost chokes, feeling very hot in the face. He’s suddenly too aware of his tail, reaching around to pull it in front of himself nervously.

“It does not. Shut up it doesn’t. I do not.”

“You certainly do. Don’t worry though, I do not think it takes away from your authority. I think it would be nice to see our General being enthusiastic about helping his fellow people.” 

Kazuha’s smirk melts into something more gentle and sincere. With a hesitant hand, he brushes careful fingers against the tawny fur of Gorou’s fur. 

“How honest a man you are, to have a body so expressive in movement, that anyone may know what an honourable soul they crossed paths with.” 

He squeezes his slender hand a bit tighter, before letting go completely and retreating quickly back to the training ring.

Gorou just stands in quiet surprise for a moment, letting his tail fall back to a comfortable position and considers the words just uttered to him.

Kazuha has never been one to shy away from complimenting him, as Gorou has done to him so many times as well. But that… that felt new. That felt different. It’s making Gorou feel flustered and shy and maybe a bit warm.

He slinks away to read some of Kokomi’s many manuals of potential situations and ways to overcome them, hoping there’s one on how to deal with embarrassing emotions.

Keeping himself busy is no difficult task, so Gorou throws himself into his duties with all of his energy. He easily distracts himself from thinking about unproductive things like pretty words and intimate smiles, and is able to focus on getting his work done. He knows what to prioritise, and he can’t let anything risk all the hard work that he and many others have put into getting this far. 

Gorou knows what is important, he knows what to dedicate time into. 

He knows he will have plenty of time to think about other things too. 

Deciding to take advantage of the nice weather, Gorou sends some troops to go hunting for food, and others to prepare for a trip to Watatsumi Island. 

As Gorou is usually holed up in one spot or another, he usually isn’t as accessible to other members of the camp, but today they also take advantage of his presence of conversation. Comments about other members, compliments to him and his leadership, declarations of dreams of the future, they all utter these things to him, and he soaks it up, it’s what he is here for, but it makes him feel heavy.

To hold so many lives in one’s own hands, to carry the weight of hope and desperation of a society, it’s no small burden.

Gorou alone does not feel the baggage, but it is his to share. He can’t let himself forget that.

It makes him fidgety, and he needs to do more, more, more. Drives him to do more.

And when he runs out of responsibilities to attend to, and words to swap with others, he practices his archery. 

People stop and watch him. He doesn’t mind so much.

Not even when he feels the gaze of someone’s gentle eyes and the way it makes his neck burn. 

By the time evening falls and Gorou prepares to start his rounds of collecting the camp’s letters of suggestions, he’s worked himself out into a sweaty mess and tired muscles. A nice tired, the kind that makes him feel productive and accomplished, the burn in his arms evidence of time well spent.

As he ducks into his tent and gulps down water from his flask, he hears someone else enter. 

“Would you mind some company this evening?” Kazuha says.

Gorou looks at him and wonders if the samurai is just as attached to this friendship as he is.

“Please,” Gorou replies. 

They remain side by side as Gorou visits every person in the camp, his shoulder against Kazuha's a comfortable pressure, a reassuring anchor point, grounds him.

It’s nice. A pleasant warmth. Like he’s always meant to be there in the space next to him.

Gorou knows that he’s going to miss that the most.

The general consensus from that night is the need of a permanent fighting instructor. Someone who’s only job is to provide ongoing service in weapon handling and techniques. While the camp sang praises about both Gorou’s and Kazuha’ skills and teaching abilities, the new recruits all felt not having someone to permanently rely on severely impacted their confidence to be of any use in a real fight. 

Gorou understands. He feels guilty, but he knows it’s useless to feel guilt. That won’t help anyone.

So while he lets himself sit with his guilt, he comes up with a plan to find and employ a trainer.

He has until Kazuha leaves to do so. That’s what Kazuha tells him late that night, reassuring words whispered to the pacing General.

Kazuha had followed Gorou with his eyes, watching as Gorou stepped around in circles in their tent, until deciding he had enough of the restless man’s restlessness, reaching out to grasp Gorou’s hand as he had made to pass again.

“Think things through with a fresh head tomorrow. You did so much today. Let yourself do more tomorrow.” He had said, squeezing his hand around Gorou’s.

Gorou did as Kazuha suggested. 

The next day, Gorou begins writing out a separate report for Kokomi, summarising the feedback he received, and his plan to fill the position of combat trainer. He knows this is something he cannot do on his own, and that he’s far better off letting someone else do the thinking. He’s far better at the doing. That’s just how it is.

As he sets about compiling all of his communications ready to send off, Gorou almost offers the role to Kazuha. It would be a perfect fit. Kazuha is, objectively, skilled enough to hold his own in a battle, knowledgeable enough to teach this skill, and personable enough for people to listen to him. The camp already trusts him, and Kazuha them, and there’s the already established routine they have got going on.

It could work. He could say yes. This could work out.

Gorou stands, ready to go find him, already planning out the conversation in his head, it might be a yes, it might work out-

Just as he goes to walk, Kazuha suddenly rushes in, colliding into the unprepared Gorou with an oomph!

“Gah! What the… Kazuha?”

The shorter man skitters back, clutching at his injured bandages hand, where Gorou can now see blood sealing through the fabric. 

Alarmed, Gorou grabs his shoulders and looks down at him.

“What happened!? Are we under attack? Where-” he stops when he sees the tears spill from Kazuha’s eyes, not looking up at Gorou, but down at his hand. His whole body shakes, vibrating under Gorou’s grip. Gasping breaths, quiet but hitching escape through his clenched jaw.

“I don’t - ugh - I don’t kn-know what happened. I just. I just saw him, I saw him, my hand hurt and I saw To… Tomo. I couldn’t, I couldn’t-! ”

He tries pulling his breaths in deeper, trying to calm himself, pull himself together, but all Gorou can do is not breathe at all, not knowing whether to run out looking for the danger or run out and hide everyone away. Kazuha shakes his head, seemingly knowing what Gorou is thinking. 

“There’s no attack. It’s just. It’s just me. I don’t know how it happened. We… We were just sparring. I was showing them how to grip a sword, and my hand, it just hurt so much, and then, it’s like I was back there. When, when it, when that-”

His words are bitten off with a sob, and Kazuha hunches in on himself, shaking violently and whining.

He looks so small, so fragile, and Gorou feels frozen. The adrenaline from the panic pushes him to drive on instinct, pulling on Kazuha to bring him into a hug, where Kazuha all but falls into, shuddered and whimpering with fresh fear and fresh grief. 

It comes with a reminder to Gorou. 

Kazuha was never meant to stay here. This is why he has to leave.

He manages to drag Kazuha to his bed, where he pulls the crying man onto his lap and holds him tight, enough so that eventually the sobs dull, and the shaking subsides, and his breathing evens out. It helps calm Gorou down, heart beating too hard and fast from fleeting panic. 

Gorou rubs his hands up and down Kazuha’s back, and then as gently as he can, asks: “May I take a look at your hand?”

His voice catches in his throat awkwardly, but Kazuha nods slowly regardless.

With slow, deliberate hands, Gorou runs his fingers across slightly trembling shoulders, sliding down thin arms to cup at the injured hand. Carefully unwrapping the bloodied bandage, Gorou fights back tears. He’s always been an empathetic crier, easily triggered into a sobbing mess when he was a kid if a friend was hurt or sad, or even when his mother would read him stories of sad characters. He just can’t help it.

He learnt quickly when these tears that didn’t belong to his sadness were appropriate.

Seeing his friend suffer from a flashback triggered by an injury was no such time.

So instead, he focused on keeping a steady pace unwinding the bandage, using all his brain power to think of something helpful to say.

“You’ll need fresh bandages, but before that we should clean your wound up. Depending on the damage, you might need to go to the medical tent. I’ll go with you if you like. Or I can bring someone here, if you don’t feel up to walking yet.”

He pauses for breath, and risks a quick glance at the other man’s face.

Kazuha looks tired, but in the moment, looking down and Gorou’s hands as they work. Gorou doubts he will get a verbal answer. 

That’s okay. Gorou is really good at body language.

It doesn’t take long to see the skin on Kazuha’s hand is burnt, and the source of the bleeding from a blister being rubbed raw enough to cause a welt. It’s not deep enough to need stitches, but serious enough to need cleaning and medical help, and Gorou manages to convince Kazuha to go to the medical tent with him. Fortunately, there’s only one other patient occupying the tent, and Gorou entrusts his friend over to the older doctor that works for the camp. 

As the doctor goes about her business cleaning Kazuha up, Gorou takes the opportunity to step outside.

The weather is still holding up nicely, the sun warm and loving on his skin, like an intimate caress along his arms and face.

It was foolish to think that he was going to convince Kazuha to stay. It was foolish and selfish.

Gorou grumbles, kicking a loose stone around with his foot, until he hears footsteps come up beside him.

A new recruit, a middle aged woman with a motherly face but soldier getup hesitantly approaches, eyes wide. Gorou relaxes his posture and turns to face her properly.

“Sir, I hope this isn’t too out of line of me, but I just wanted to make sure the man, Kazuha, was okay? He rushed off quite suddenly, we were practicing together, and if it was me who did something wrong… I’m sorry.”

Gorou shakes his head and offers a reassuring smile.

“Nonsense, you did nothing of the sort. Unfortunately, our friend had a nasty experience before coming here, sometimes it comes back to him, y‘know? Happens to the best of us. He will be okay. If you wouldn’t mind telling me what happened?”

She obliges, telling how Kazuha had gone to grip his sword and froze, staring down at his hand as if he had been electrocuted, and she tried to speak to him, but he just looked up with the most horrified expression, looking at her without seeing her, before quickly running off to Gorou’s tent.

A classic case of PTSD. Happens to soldiers and ordinary people alike. Just another thing that comes with living under such conditions, Gorou says. He hates how he trivialises such a horrible mess, but he knows the last thing Kazuha would want is for some stranger to know of his trauma. 

So Gorou dismisses the woman quickly, hoping to have her leave and give him space to be alone. 

She does so, and Gorou feels cold despite the sun.

There’s two weeks left before Kazuha’s departure. But Gorou misses him already.

Kazuha tries to bounce back after that incident. He continues the training, keeping up a happy face with those who don’t know any better. Maybe it’s not quite a façade, the gentle gleam in those ruby eyes whenever someone successfully demonstrates their ability with a sword is too real and genuine to be a lie.

But maybe it’s forced. 

It’s definitely forced, because come nighttime when Kazuha sits on Gorou’s bed, fiddling with a leaf, Gorou can see him shedding his happy demeanour like a second skin, leaving him raw and vulnerable to the smallest of sadness in him.

The knowledge makes Gorou ache. It makes him want to wrap around Kazuha, protect him, and keep him all to himself.

So selfish. Gorou knows it is.

But it doesn’t stop the longing. Doesn’t stop the want to reach out and pull him so close that maybe, just maybe, the space between them becomes so undefined that there is no possible way to seperate them.

Gorou misses him already. 

There are nights where it’s too unbearable for both of them: for Gorou’s loneliness and Kazuha’s grief, that they share Gorou’s bed, share each other’s warmth, bringing comfort and reassurance and let’s forget just a bit longer.

It’s not fair, Gorou thinks. Why does it feel like nights were made to go like this.

Kazuha hugs him tighter in his sleep. 

This is how it’s meant to be.