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Jin sighed, shallowly. That had been close… far too close.
There had been so many of them. Worse, they’d seen him and blown the war horn, summoning reinforcements out of nowhere. There had been too many. But he couldn’t give up. They’d had prisoners. He couldn’t let them die. He didn’t. Jin had saved them all.
He’d taken one of the Mongol’s hissing bombs to the chest to protect the frightened old farmer who’d been cowering on the ground, too terrified to run. Jin’s armor had stopped the worst of it. The impact sent him staggering. His chest burned from being winded. Afterwards he’d been slow, staggering with effort to breathe and keep fighting.
But Jin was samurai. He was a Sakai. He was the lightning in the storm.
Jin defeated the Mongol encampment, to the last man. He stood tall, as a lord should, and guided the peasants to the nearest unoccupied town. That just so happened to be Komatsu, ensconced within walls and safely fortified.
His muscles ached and he could feel the fine tremors from his head to his toes. It took all his resolve to stay standing still, with calm open body language, exuding confidence. He was a samurai lord after all. He couldn’t rest. He had to provide comforting words to frightened farmers and children. He had to escort them to Komatsu.
Jin lagged behind the small group, to guard the rear from any patrols sent after them. In this large of a group their tracks would be easy to follow.
These people needed a deterrent.
They needed The Ghost.
Riding high on the wave of adrenaline and responsibility—if I don’t do it who will—Jin made his way behind the group of refugees to their temporary Izuhara home.
Jin heard the falcon’s screech first. It swooped overhead, nearly scalping him before circling over his small group. They’d been, unsurprisingly, followed and found. Jin turned, having never left high alert, with an arrow already nocked to his bowstring. His heart was racing, but the world stilled for a moment when he loosed his shot.
The Mongol falconer fell off his horse.
Jin’s quiver shifted on his shoulder and he missed grabbing the next arrow.
He missed the few fleeting seconds to take down the next rider at range.
He missed, having to fire his next shot too soon because they were upon him.
A blow to his shoulder armor, one that would have taken his neck had the ties been loose, knocked him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet before they could finish the job. Smoke bombs and kunai bought him precious distance and time. The battle was brief. Thankfully the refugees had kept running while Jin killed the last of the raiding party.
His pursuers dispatched, Jin skulked into town… like a ghost.
He was tired.
Inexplicably tired.
It had been a long day. He should rest. It would be best to avoid people. Avoid enduring their banal pleasantries in his current state. To maintain the mythos of The Ghost.
“Jin!”
So much for that plan.
“Taka,” Jin greeted.
In an instant Taka was on him, like a mother hen. “You’re bleeding! My lord—”
“I’m fine.” Jin gathered his resolve around himself like armor.
“You’re injured,” Taka insisted, “Come with me… the forge—”
“No… I’m The Ghost.” Jin stood tall, but it was taking more effort than usual to affect his aloof samurai lord persona.
“The Ghost is bleeding.” Taka said with a bit of steel in his voice. It was unusual for him, and silenced Jin’s protestations.
Jin looked down. His armor was covered in red. He didn’t own any red armor. Red… blood? But… it wasn’t his… right? His body ached, but that was normal post-combat fatigue. Right? Jin looked at his hands, red and wet where they’d touched blood, and shaking. He was shaking and felt faint. It was just like Iki Island all over again. Jin, a quaking coward, as father chastised him for being squeamish. He was being weak and his conduct unbefitting a samurai. This was normal. He should be used to this. It was nothing. Right?!
“Lord Sakai…” Taka put a hand to Jin’s chest. Whether to stop him or steady him, or perhaps just for undeserved comfort, Jin didn’t know. Taka pressed harder, stopping Jin from brushing off his hand. That calloused palm dug in to where armor and silks were singed from the blast.
Jin choked on a scream and dropped to his knees.
“My lord! You’re hurt. We are going to the forge. Where there’s healers.” Taka insisted. His tone was firm and confident, a complete contrast to the man Jin had met in Azamo Bay.
Jin was quietly impressed that Taka could handle himself with such authority.
But he had to stay strong.
“No! I can’t…” Jin choked on his words. “They can’t see The Ghost injured.” Jin was struggling to stand. When had standing gotten this difficult? Jin wrenched himself to the side to get a foot under himself. Then groaned as his leg and side screamed in pain.
“My lord…” Taka crouched down next to him. His hands hovered, trying to find where he could touch that wouldn’t cause Jin pain.
Jin was weak. He bowed. It probably wasn’t noticeable with how low to the ground he already was, but aches and all he would still make an effort. “Taka… please.” Jin’s voice and body were stiff, but he let himself he helped up.
Taka hoisted him to his feet and carefully, avoiding wounds and bleeding injuries, half dragged Jin to an empty house. It was nearby, still on the outskirts of town, and abandoned. It was, in a word, perfect. Taka rested against the wall for a moment with Jin, having struggled to haul an adult man in full armor around. “We don’t have to go to the forge my lord, but… please… let someone help you?”
Taka one handedly opened the shoji door and let them both in. Jet let himself be led, and let Taka sit him down on the edge of the wood floor, facing the lowered dirt floored hearth area. Jin watched him start a fire with brisk efficiency. Taka briefly disappeared with a pot and came back with it full of water. He had several rolled bandages tucked under his other arm. Jin barely remembered him being gone, he must have fallen asleep while Taka helped him.
“You’re doing a good job of it already,” Jin mulled. He felt numb, shivering in the cold air of the abandoned home. The fire burned brightly, but it hadn’t been going long enough to push away the cold.
“My lord,” Taka demurred, bowing his head. He turned to face Jin from where he was crouched, busy laying out a spare goza mat and setting bandage rolls on top of a clean kimono he’d pulled down from a hanger, “I—Jin!”
Jin hummed. Why was Taka upset? He was tired, and it was safe here. He could rest.
“Jin, you’re bleeding!” Taka was on top of him.
Oh… when had he laid down? The post combat exhilaration was wearing thin… finally… but he didn’t feel any pain. He was shaking. He couldn’t move his arms to push Taka away, couldn’t form the words to say he was fine. He couldn’t control his body. He was too weak.
Jin cried.
He wasn’t sure it if was from the self-loathing of his own intrinsic failings or the immense pain of Taka shoving cloth into his chest— wait, how could he do that? —and binding it tightly enough Jin could scarcely breathe. Taka then cut and pulled the rest of Jin’s armor off. Jin wanted to protest the destruction and waste but…
What was he thinking again?
“Gods,” Taka gasped, “the burns.”
Jin woke. Warm and achy. Breathing hurt, but it wasn’t the sharp pain of cut flesh or tugging sutures, it was the dull compressive pain of bandages restricting his breathing.
Jin rolled his head; his neck lolling pulled at his shoulder, and his shoulders were stiff. He could see the ceiling above him, well enough to count the knots in the wood of the second story floor beams. Taka was above him, sitting and staring down. Jin registered the soothing feeling of something… someone… Taka, petting his hair.
“You’re awake,” Taka said, softly. All authority and sternness gone. The light coming through the shoji doors was golden. Whether it was with dawn or dusk’s light Jin didn’t know. It covered Taka with a warm glow. A soft outline. A Gaussian blur.
“What? What happened?” Jin rasped. His voice was so dry.
A cup appeared in Taka’s hands.
How? Jin didn’t really care.
Taka helped Jin up, leaning him back against the wall at the head of his bedroll and pulling the blankets up to cover Jin once more.
When had they moved to a bed? Had Jin fallen back asleep?
The cup was at Jin’s lips. Taka held it there for him, steady and patient. Jin drank. It was tea… cold tea, but tea nonetheless.
“Taka.” Jin tried to grab Taka before he left. He missed and swiped at the air again, snagging the cloth at the back of Taka’s obi. It held taunt for just a second before slipping free and fluttering down. Jin saw it, moving slowly towards the floor. Jin followed.
Taka turned, looking with surprise at Jin slumped back down on the bedroll. “Lord Sakai?”
Lord Sakai… Jin swore he’d been Jin before he lost consciousness. How odd, that he wanted to be Jin again.
Was it?
They were alone. Taka was kind. It would be nice to be just Jin again.
“Jin,” Jin croaked. His throat was still parched.
Taka walked away and came back with another cup, this time carrying the whole pot with him. “Here Jin. Drink this.”
One pot of tea and a companionable silence later, Jin didn’t want him to leave.
“You did well…” he said, “with the bandages.”
Taka blushed and ducked his head. “I… I brought the healer,” he admitted. “He won’t tell though, so don’t worry. The Ghost is invincible.” Taka smiled softly. Everything about him was soft now: his hands against Jin’s supporting the cup, the fabric of his kimono where it brushed Jin’s wrist, his tousled hair where it flopped over his soft white headband. Time and recovery from the tortures of Azamo Bay had done him well. Taka was eating well, and enough, within the fortified walls of Komatsu. His muscles had grown, his waist was filling out, his cheeks were just starting to round.
Jin wanted to bring him to the Sakai estate for the fall harvest festivals and Ostukimi. He wanted to feed him full of dango and taro and roasted chestnuts under the stars while they watched the moon. He wanted to sit with Taka, under the red maple, and read him poetry while the moon crept across the sky, reflected in the still lake below. He wanted to watch Taka enjoying himself, and to put his hands on Taka’s bearded jaw, and to lean closer… close enough to…
Jin paused.
Where had that thought come from? It must be the medicines fogging his mind.
Taka took Jin’s prolonged silence as a cue to continue speaking. “You’ll make a full recovery he said. The burns weren’t too deep. The worst was the cuts… but the bleeding stopped, and with rest you’ll heal.”
Jin groaned. Rest. “But the Khan…”
“Will wait,” Taka insisted, a hint of that previous flame coming back. “Yuna is out there. So’s Masako and the Sensei. And Ryuzo and his Straw Hats should be going after supply lines like you said a while ago. You have time. You need time.”
“Taka…”
“Rest. I’ll get some food. Let me take care of you.” It was a question. Not phrased like one, but a question nonetheless. Taka waited a moment for an answer Jin couldn’t give, then he stood and turned to leave.
Jin didn’t want him to go away. Yes, he wanted food… but he wanted Taka more. He couldn’t stop Taka though, trapped as he was by his own infirmity.
Taka returned in short order, with baskets full of raw food and cooked rations. He helped Jin to sit up once more. And chastised him harshly when Jin tried to assume a proper seiza.
“You’ll pull your stitches!” Taka lightly slapped Jin’s thigh before straightening the yukata over it.
Jin jumped, his muscles seizing in shock, but not at the smack. It was the way Taka’s hand felt on him. Gods he didn’t want Taka to let go. Jin rubbed pensively at the soft fabric wrapped around his thigh.
Taka held a bit of fish up on chopsticks.
Jin leveled a deadpan glare at him. “I can feed myself.”
Doing so pulled at some of the stitches in his arm, and the burns tugged where the raw skin had dried to the bandages— those were going to be hell to change. But Jin managed without too much issue, and without needing assistance. He ate the whole bowl, and he didn’t protest when Taka brought him a second. He wanted to… there were people starving in the survivors’ camps—
“You’re recovering Jin Sakai. Don’t you dare fight me on this.”
Jin dutifully ate.
Jin endured the bandage changes, and almost cried with relief when Taka and the healer didn’t replace the dry crusted bandage with another soaked cloth. They used ointment this time. Taka nodded along to each instruction and order the healer gave on how to care for Jin’s wounds over the coming days.
Once the healer left them alone for a moment Jin spoke up. “Don’t you have to be at your forge Taka?”
“You have your iron hook my lord, everything else can wait.”
Jin didn’t believe that, but he was too tired to argue.
The healer returned with a pot of something that smelled earthy and bitter when the steam wafted towards Jin. Jin took his medicine. Taka watched, and learned from the healer how to brew the concoctions.
Jin shifted, trying and failing to stand. He could crawl if he had to; it hurt but he could. “I can manage Taka. You don’t have to stay.” It hurt to say. He wanted Taka to stay, but he wouldn’t trap him.
“Your health is more important.” Taka insisted, helping Jin to stand without straining his sutured leg and guiding him outside to the latrine.
After another delivered dinner where Jin ate his fill while Taka hovered ready to refill his bowl, Jin was feeling content. The medicines the healer provided that Taka had brewed were working to take away any pain, and that left Jin with a pleasant floating sensation. Taka helped Jin bathe while changing the bandages again. He poked at Jin’s hand, checking for sensation and swelling to make sure nothing was too tight or had slipped since the last check-and-change. The burns truly were the worst, sucking up ointment like dry earth drank in the rain. Taka applied a thick healthy layer of the stuff before re-wrapping the affected skin.
All tending and mending done for the night, Taka stood. He barely left Jin’s side all day, but did sleep a respectful distance away. Now, after days of the same repetitive pattern, Jin couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Taka.”
Taka paused, looking down at Jin, eyes wide with some emotion Jin could barely make out in the flickering firelight.
“Come here.” Jin beckoned with a single wave of his fingers.
Taka followed, obeyed, and knelt at his side.
“Stay with me?” Jin’s voice was strained with the effort of keeping it neutral.
“My lord?” Taka cocked his head to the side, hair flopping over the knotted headband in that charming way it did every time he was curious, or flustered, or shy.
“Here,” Jin clarified. He sat upright; he had the strength for it now, and using his arms barely hurt. Taka didn’t move, mesmerized by this break in their routine, he was in the perfect position. Jin leaned forward. He pressed his lips to Taka’s, kissing him, saying all the things he couldn’t put into words. “Stay right next to me.”
Taka sighed breathlessly when they parted. Then brought shaking fingers to his lips like he couldn’t believe what had just passed between them.
“As you wish.”