Chapter Text
Rain battered the side of Kazetsuyu Castle, so named for the rain and wind it had weathered for generations. The castle rose with layered walls and sloping angular roofs to be visible from the cliff side that overlooked the ocean below. In summer it was beautiful. But September brought storms.
Tsukishima Kei could not see the waves as they rose up, white crested to beat against the cliff below his balcony. Seeing anything required it to be within inches of his own nose, and as such, he had little use for the view.
He sat in the midst of it regardless, the feel of the wind and the cool whisper of mist against his skin pleasant. It was with a mixture of spite and guilt that he had resorted to finding himself tucked away on the third floor of the castle. Several servants had passed him, he had guessed from the soft patter of footsteps, but none had dared reprimand the young lord for leaving his studies on the floor below.
A headache was brewing as surely as the storm. Too much time spent squinting over tiny written characters had him wrapped in dark clouds of frustration as heavy as the thunder that punctuated his thoughts. Only a few weeks left. Then he would be thirteen. A man, in his own right. Or he would be—if he could see to aim a bow, or wield a blade. If calligraphy did not blur as he worked his way down a page and if he could ride any horse without a servant to hold the lead, worse than a child. Some man I am.
The half-blind, second-son Tsukishima. This was why his mother had enlisted sharp minded tutors. Why he was so often confined to lamp light and study. Forbidden the more active lifestyle that sure sight would have offered him. When his best assent was his mind, to be of worth he had become brilliant.
Kei reveled in this, at least. The games of strategy, battle tactics, and memorization were a welcome alleviation from his blurry boredom. While his father and brother ventured out to hunting, or to patrols, he remained with his favorite tutor—Takeda Sensei—to play shoji or ponder riddles.
It was Takeda Sensei from whom he hid now. Scrawny, long legs hanging over the side of the balcony. Yukata hoisted up to he could better feel the empty air and drops of rain.
He was waiting.
The gate to Kazetsuyu Castle was somewhere below. He thought he could make out the glow of fires guttering in the rain, squinting to make out the orange light. The gate was large enough that he would be able to see some sort of difference when the doors swung open. He would see movement when his brother and father returned on large blobs that were horses.
They will return. The fight is not so bad as to think they would not. Foreign ships on the coast. The Lordship Tsukishima was responsible for large swaths of that shoreline, lighthouses proudly marking the danger of a rocky shore and docks well maintained for trade. Trade that could not happen with the raids. Raids that father will stop.
They were sure to return. Tsukishima had allies. Two samurai clan names were sworn to them—one from that coastline, Umiwara. And another whom Kei had only met the head of, the Yamaguchi clan who settled at the mouth of a mountain pass to the north.
Both Umiwara and Yamaguchi had sent men when Kei’s father had called for arms. The pirates have no hope for victory. Kei felt confident in this, even as he squinted down at the gates and waited with his heart tight in his chest. Akiteru will come home.
The wind shifted. The rain battered at Kei’s bare legs. It was colder now, towards the end of the season. The rains due to give way to the crisp bite of autumn in the coming weeks. Someone would scold him if he caught a cold but he did not move until the sun dropped below the horizon and his already futile attempt of watching the gate at this distance was made void.
The fires glowed. The only sign of distance his useless eyes could find. Irritable, Kei stood. He made his way through the castle, avoiding main corridors to be better assured he may remain out of his mother’s sight. For surely she would drag him off to the baths and dinner and all matter of tasks he had been avoiding these past hours.
By the time he made his way down the correct number of steps he realized he needn’t have worried. No one was paying attention to him—not when he realized the commotion in the courtyard.
I missed it. Kei realized in outrage. The gates must have opened in the dim hours before night. A serving girl rushed past him, a blur of gray cloth and the smell of woodsmoke. He caught her shoulder. “How long since my father’s return?”
“Young lord!” She startled at his touch and bowed. Her face was a blur, one more stranger in this house. “Half past the evening bell, sir. Not long.”
Kei grit his teeth and waved a hand. She scuttled away. Looking at the courtyard he did not think his father was still there. But it was his brother he searched for, and Akiteru was known to linger with the horses and his men after a ride.
The stables were a bustle of activity. Servants and soldiers alike noticed him as he walked through it all, moving from his way with obligatory deference that Kei had always disliked. I have not proven myself to you. But he was still the lord’s secluded son, that alone placed respect and responsibility upon him.
Kei walked upright, head held high. He did not let himself squint, to be seen struggling was unacceptable. The marginal improvement it made on his vision was not worth being noticed with such weakness. Unlike his brother who lived and worked with these men, who considered them friends as best a lord heir can—Kei was a mystery. His poor vision was a secret closely kept, and as such he too was something of a secret.
He heard the rumors. His fair skin, his golden hair, the amber of his eyes—people called him blessed. That the name Tsukishima had been touched by the moon god Tsukiyomi himself. That Kei himself showed the signs of that blessing in a way his brother, with darker eyes and duller hair, did not.
Absurd. In all of his study, Kei had never once found proof for the belief in gods. If anything I’m cursed. Doomed to live blindly feeling his way towards answers, as he did now.
“Here boy, drink this. It’s over now. It’s alright.” Kei recognized that voice. One of Akiteru’s personal guard.
Kei made his way towards it, unable to see who the man was speaking to or why. “Shimida.”
“Young lord.” Shimida straightened to face him.
Kei was glad for the lantern hanging nearby, the light cast helping in just how much of the man he could make out. Even so, Shimida’s face was an unreadable blur. But his voice held something darker.
Something went wrong. Kei tensed. “Have you seen my brother? I’ve walked the stalls and have yet to come across him.”
Shimida was years his senior. Older even than Akiteru, but he bowed deeply. Head held low in the respect that came with bad news.
“I take it he’s returned already?” Kei demanded, feeling strained by the idea he may not have.
“Your brother is within the castle, I can only assume the doctor is with him now.”
“He was hurt?” Kei demanded sharply. “Is that not your job to prevent, and yet you stand here whole.”
“Young lord…” Shimida began.
“It should be you, should it not? Where is your honor?” Kei felt his voice rising. The volume of it bringing a stillness to the men around them.
“My Lord.” Shimida simply bowed his head in acceptance of Kei’s childish blame.
“You weren’t there.” The voice was a stranger. A young man, tone wrought with poorly disguised outrage. “You didn’t see it!”
Kei was shocked. Who would speak to me like that? None of his father’s men.
“Hold your tongue,” Shimida hissed, fear in the words. He moved quickly to the side and Kei had to squint to see the figure beyond.
A man—a boy really—in armor. Kei could see the colors properly in the lantern light, the green and red of the Yamaguchi clan. Samurai are supposed to be polite. Kei frowned. There was far too much red for the pattern.
“Please, young lord. Forgive the boy he speaks with grief alone. Tonight was a victory, under your father’s lead, but we suffered great losses,” Shimida said quickly. He reached back to push the boy’s head down into a bow like his own.
Kei tutted. How many did we lose? He felt sick with horror at it. All of that red. Is it blood? He would have had to get much closer to determine that. He would not. Kei had so little experience with blood. The Yamaguchi boy was right, after all. Kei had not been there. He could not have seen it even if he were.
“Someone take me to my brother,” Kei said finally. Opting to forget the incident. Takes a spine to talk to me like that. The novelty that it had never happened before almost made Kei admire Yamaguchi’s tenacity.
“Ukai!” Shimida called at once. “Escort the young lord.”
Ukai manifested from the blurred middle distance. Bowing exactly enough to be polite. “Young lord.”
Kei followed him out of the stables, glad to leave that half-formed conflict of a confrontation behind. It doesn’t matter. He’ll go back to the mountains within the week. The castle halls were empty, all movement likely happening in the servant passages out of view.
The room Kei was led to was on the first floor. A guard stood outside, though upon seeing Kei he seemed to straighten up. Ukai fell back to hang just behind Kei’s shoulder while Kei addressed the guard. “My brother is within?”
“Resting, now. Young lord.” The guard said.
“I should like to see him.” Kei insisted.
The guard at the door shifted uncomfortably. Kei could not see his face to know if the request had been received poorly. “Shall I find my Lord father instead?” Kei threatened. “I am certain he would not see me barred from my brother’s side.”
“Of course not.” The guard at the door bowed aside, letting Kei pass.
“Do not follow me.” Kei snapped at Ukai when he moved to keep in step behind him. “Lest you think our enemy has followed us into these halls.”
Ukai came up short and stood beside the guard at the door. Kei could not see the look they exchanged upon turning his back to them. His focus drawn entirely by what lay within.
The scent of herbs bitter, the light in the room dim. It was nearly impossible for him to make out the figure on the pallet in the center of the room.
As the door shut behind him, Kei went to his knees. The room was empty, save for the figure laying in the center, that much he knew. No one was there to see his weakness. It was safe for him to feel his way carefully across the tatami until his fingers brushed fabric.
Kei leaned over, bringing his face close so he could actually see his brother. He was met with Akiteru’s eyes—wide open.
Reeling back, Kei huffed. “You’re awake. You could have said.”
Akiteru chucked softly. “And let those outside know it?”
“They tell it a though you were dying.” Kei complained. His hands fell to his lap, twisting fingers together in anxious movement.
“Nothing so severe.” Akiteru said, something wry to his tone. “I will survive it.”
Kei felt buoyed by the relief. He let go of a shuddering breath and leaned close again—a hand span of distance—to actually see the state his brother was in. A bandage wrapped securely round his head, the fabric of his yukata hung loose enough for Kei to see more bandages beyond it.
“You won’t see the issue.” Akiteru said, sympathy in his voice. “Below my blankets.”
“Ah.” Kei straightened up. Sympathy always stung, but he was used to it in his brother by now. Pathetic of me. How he cringed from that softness and craved it all the same.
There was a beat of silence. Kei hesitating to ask before finally doing so, “How bad is it? Truly.”
“I…believe I will have a lot more time on my hands. We should play shoji. It’s been too long since my last victory.”
“Because I always win,” Kei shot back. “What do you mean, more time? For the healing?”
“Yes…the healing.” Akiteru sighed. “Kei, they say I may not walk again.”
“What.” Kei froze.
That was not a simple injury. That was a cataclysmic loss. He cannot walk? Like some sick joke then, that the Tsukishima line—known for such strength—would be reduced to this. A cripple and a blind man.
Kei refused it. “No.”
“As I say,” Akiteru agreed. “I do not intend to let this defeat me.”
Kei rung his hands. “Your legs?”
“Present. I’ve counted the pair of them,” Akiteru said.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“Doctor Hatori believes it is my spine. I cannot bring myself to rise—the pain is immense.” Akiteru let his eyes flutter shut. “Even to lay like this.”
“You will recover,” Kei said stubbornly. “You will walk again, ride again. I am sure of it.”
“As sure as your seeing me do so, from twenty meters off,” Akiteru said bitterly.
Kei hissed. “Don’t.”
“I…apologize, Kei.” Akiteru said softly. “That was undeserved.”
“And cruel,” Kei snapped. “I only wish you well, brother.”
“I know your heart.” Akiteru shifted his arm to place a hand over Kei’s fidgeting ones. “All will be well, I’ll be strong again—in time.”
Kei seized his brother’s hand and held on tight. I can’t do this alone. “Swear it. You fight this.”
“I will, Kei. I swear it.”