Makoto had left Tatsuki to Naomiās care for the day, as the woman had been allowed back into the town for the first time since the incident. She still had the child with her, which surprised him a little bit. One would think Nobunaga could at least pretend to care about a child that he had supposedly fathered, but it seemed that this wasnāt really the case, though Mako suspected that he had been enraged that a rival lord had sent domesticated wolves against his territory and harmed what he thought he owned in the process. The fatigue on Naomiās face seemed to confirm his suspicions, but there wasnāt much he could do for her, save to hand her another one of the small glass bottles his mother made up for her. Likely if Nobunaga found out she was intentionally drinking a contraceptive brew, heād not take it well, so she couldnāt grow all the ingredients herself. Heād never told anyone else that he delivered them in six-month supplied every time heād visited over the three years he was gone, because it was a secret of hers to tell, not his.
It was a small thing, but still something he could do for her. At least heād been able to know for sure that she wasnāt deadāheād definitely have told the others if she were. That was enough for the both of them, really. For today, however, it wasnāt her he needed to assistāit was his sister. Heād visited Yuzu several times in the last few days, and though sheād always let him in, she had not responded to his poor attempts at comfort or consolation, and he knew he wouldnāt be able to get through to her. Not while he still grieved as well. When he visited, they shared pain. What she needed now was someone to help alleviate it.
The best suggestion was also the person perhaps least likely to try on his own, so Makoto knew it fell to him to push his friend in the right direction. Both of them needed the visit to happen, Mao no less than Yuzuki. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could at least arrange it.
He found Masurao in the forest. The man had come down from his oni state some time ago, but he still hadnāt come back near the town. Makoto approached cautiously, knowing that his friend could still be treading on a thin line right now. When he reached the clearing he wanted, he dropped down from the last in a sequence of trees, tilting his head slightly to look up at the older hanyou.
āMasurao.ā
Masurao had not been back to the village in the last few days. He had opted to stay away from them, the failure leaking from him was almost suffocating. He had promised himself that nothing would happen to Yuzuki and her father, and he had failed. Her father had died because of his mistake, and now Yuzuki and her family were paying for it. If he hadn't been hesitant, if only he had been paying attention, Hayabusa might still be alive. He might still be alive, and Yuzuki and her family would not be grieving. But... the thing that had caused him to hesitate was the need to protect his family. His entire family. Tatsuki had been injured, on the verge of death, and had he left Hayabusa and Yuzuki, they would both be dead. One life, or two? His sister, or his friends?
It wasn't a decision he could make hastily, but it was one that had needed a quick response. And he had failed to do both. It had cost him dearly because of it. So, he had left the village, choosing to stay away from those he had hurt. He had not stopped by to see Tatsuki, to see if she had even recovered from her injuries. Yujin had found him, and told him that she was okay, but still unable to move. Out of all of them, she had suffered the most injuries, and Masurao couldn't help but take the blame for that too. He should have been able to keep them all safe, and all he did was watch his friend's father die, and his sister almost die. He was useless. He was brought from his thoughts when Makoto arrived, calling out his name.
"I'm not going back, Mako," he spoke, turning to regard the Hanyou over his shoulders. "I... I can't," he continued, turning away from Makoto in the process. How could he go back and face them? They should all hate him for not protecting Hayabusa, for not protecting Yuzuki, Tatsuki, Naomi, any of them. They should despise him for letting Hayabusa die, for... he stopped his trail of thoughts as he slumped his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Mako. I should have done something."
āYes,ā Mako agreed, āyou should have. Just as I should have reached the scene faster, just as Yujin should perhaps have gotten serious sooner. Just as Tatsuki herself should have stuck closer to other people fighting, to avoid the predicament in the first place.ā He tilted his head to one side, leaning his back on a tree trunk and folding his arms into his sleeves. His swords were a familiar, comfortable weight crossed over the small of his back, somehow a counterbalance to the unfamiliar, uncomfortable weight resting in his chest. He blinked slowly, and inhaled, filtering through the various scents of the forestāpine, juniper, dead leaves.
āāOn a battlefield, there is no such thing as perfection. Something can always go better. What we must do is learn from our mistakes, and endeavor not to repeat them.ā" The way he said the words, he was quoting someone, and it was not difficult to guess whom. āThat was one of the first things Hayabusa taught me, when I was only a child. Sometimes, there is no avoiding a bad outcomeāwe are not gods. We cannot stay a death when it is truly meant to come. We can only make choices. I could have chosen differentlyāto come to the aid of my teacher instead of Tatsuki, and then he would be alive regardless of anything you chose.ā Of course, then Tatsuki would be dead, and that was the outcome he had been most intent on preventing. He had known that there was a chance any of the others might die if he chose not to help them. There was a chance for them to die if he did help them. That was how battle worked.
āAnd he chose, too. To die to save his daughter. Donāt you think she feels even more guilty about that than you do? Donāt you think that she asks herself, over and over, what might have happened if sheād just noticed that wolf a little faster, moved out of the way? We all made mistakes, Mao. And we will make more. Weāre just lucky enough to be alive to try and make up for them.ā His lips pursed into a fine line, and he shook his head faintly.
āIf you wish youād done something, donāt repeat the mistake. Do something now. I canāt reach herābut I think you might be able to.ā
Masurao glanced away from Makoto, flinching lightly at his words. They stung, in ways that Masurao wasn't sure they were supposed to, but he couldn't help but feel the truth behind them. Still, it did not stop the guilt from swelling further in him. He could have done something differently, they all could have, but the outcome would have still been the same. Someone would have died, regardless. If it had been him, would the others be this mournful? He knew his family would, but at least Yuzuki and the others would still have their father, their friend, their mentor. He shook slightly, the shivers of indecisive measures coursing through his veins.
He should have done something different. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. Yuzuki's father was dead, there was no getting him back. He shifted to fully turn Makoto, his frown deepening when he spoke of Yuzuki. She probably was doing the same thing he was doing, and that was something he didn't want her to do. He didn't want her to blame herself for her father's death, because that blame was his. She should be blaming him for not being faster, smarter, stronger to protect them all. And he wasn't. He had let her down. She should be blaming him, not herself. He sighed softly, lowering his shoulders in defeat.
"Nothing I do or say will help her. I'll only make it worse for her," he began, refusing to look at Makoto. He should be mad at him too, for not being all those things he should have been. "But if you believe I can reach her, I'll try. She deserves that," he whispered softly. But what would he say to her? What could he say to her? "Just... don't expect it to work."
Makotoās stance softened slightly, and he resisted the urge to sigh. He knew that Mao was going to beat himself up over this for a while, and just as he didnāt think he was the right person to help Yuzu see the light of day again, he didnāt think he was truly the right person to convince Masurao that he had stewed in his guilt for long enough. He suspected that was something they could only do for each other. But perhaps pushing them to it would be good enough for now.
āI expect nothing from nobody,ā he replied, a very tiny twitch to his lip indicating the beginnings of a melancholy smile. āSometimes, I am pleasantly surprised.ā But his words had run out, and their purpose had been served, so with a last nod, he departed the clearing, leaving his fellow hanyou to gather his own courage.
It was a small thing, but still something he could do for her. At least heād been able to know for sure that she wasnāt deadāheād definitely have told the others if she were. That was enough for the both of them, really. For today, however, it wasnāt her he needed to assistāit was his sister. Heād visited Yuzu several times in the last few days, and though sheād always let him in, she had not responded to his poor attempts at comfort or consolation, and he knew he wouldnāt be able to get through to her. Not while he still grieved as well. When he visited, they shared pain. What she needed now was someone to help alleviate it.
The best suggestion was also the person perhaps least likely to try on his own, so Makoto knew it fell to him to push his friend in the right direction. Both of them needed the visit to happen, Mao no less than Yuzuki. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could at least arrange it.
He found Masurao in the forest. The man had come down from his oni state some time ago, but he still hadnāt come back near the town. Makoto approached cautiously, knowing that his friend could still be treading on a thin line right now. When he reached the clearing he wanted, he dropped down from the last in a sequence of trees, tilting his head slightly to look up at the older hanyou.
āMasurao.ā
Masurao had not been back to the village in the last few days. He had opted to stay away from them, the failure leaking from him was almost suffocating. He had promised himself that nothing would happen to Yuzuki and her father, and he had failed. Her father had died because of his mistake, and now Yuzuki and her family were paying for it. If he hadn't been hesitant, if only he had been paying attention, Hayabusa might still be alive. He might still be alive, and Yuzuki and her family would not be grieving. But... the thing that had caused him to hesitate was the need to protect his family. His entire family. Tatsuki had been injured, on the verge of death, and had he left Hayabusa and Yuzuki, they would both be dead. One life, or two? His sister, or his friends?
It wasn't a decision he could make hastily, but it was one that had needed a quick response. And he had failed to do both. It had cost him dearly because of it. So, he had left the village, choosing to stay away from those he had hurt. He had not stopped by to see Tatsuki, to see if she had even recovered from her injuries. Yujin had found him, and told him that she was okay, but still unable to move. Out of all of them, she had suffered the most injuries, and Masurao couldn't help but take the blame for that too. He should have been able to keep them all safe, and all he did was watch his friend's father die, and his sister almost die. He was useless. He was brought from his thoughts when Makoto arrived, calling out his name.
"I'm not going back, Mako," he spoke, turning to regard the Hanyou over his shoulders. "I... I can't," he continued, turning away from Makoto in the process. How could he go back and face them? They should all hate him for not protecting Hayabusa, for not protecting Yuzuki, Tatsuki, Naomi, any of them. They should despise him for letting Hayabusa die, for... he stopped his trail of thoughts as he slumped his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Mako. I should have done something."
āYes,ā Mako agreed, āyou should have. Just as I should have reached the scene faster, just as Yujin should perhaps have gotten serious sooner. Just as Tatsuki herself should have stuck closer to other people fighting, to avoid the predicament in the first place.ā He tilted his head to one side, leaning his back on a tree trunk and folding his arms into his sleeves. His swords were a familiar, comfortable weight crossed over the small of his back, somehow a counterbalance to the unfamiliar, uncomfortable weight resting in his chest. He blinked slowly, and inhaled, filtering through the various scents of the forestāpine, juniper, dead leaves.
āāOn a battlefield, there is no such thing as perfection. Something can always go better. What we must do is learn from our mistakes, and endeavor not to repeat them.ā" The way he said the words, he was quoting someone, and it was not difficult to guess whom. āThat was one of the first things Hayabusa taught me, when I was only a child. Sometimes, there is no avoiding a bad outcomeāwe are not gods. We cannot stay a death when it is truly meant to come. We can only make choices. I could have chosen differentlyāto come to the aid of my teacher instead of Tatsuki, and then he would be alive regardless of anything you chose.ā Of course, then Tatsuki would be dead, and that was the outcome he had been most intent on preventing. He had known that there was a chance any of the others might die if he chose not to help them. There was a chance for them to die if he did help them. That was how battle worked.
āAnd he chose, too. To die to save his daughter. Donāt you think she feels even more guilty about that than you do? Donāt you think that she asks herself, over and over, what might have happened if sheād just noticed that wolf a little faster, moved out of the way? We all made mistakes, Mao. And we will make more. Weāre just lucky enough to be alive to try and make up for them.ā His lips pursed into a fine line, and he shook his head faintly.
āIf you wish youād done something, donāt repeat the mistake. Do something now. I canāt reach herābut I think you might be able to.ā
Masurao glanced away from Makoto, flinching lightly at his words. They stung, in ways that Masurao wasn't sure they were supposed to, but he couldn't help but feel the truth behind them. Still, it did not stop the guilt from swelling further in him. He could have done something differently, they all could have, but the outcome would have still been the same. Someone would have died, regardless. If it had been him, would the others be this mournful? He knew his family would, but at least Yuzuki and the others would still have their father, their friend, their mentor. He shook slightly, the shivers of indecisive measures coursing through his veins.
He should have done something different. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. Yuzuki's father was dead, there was no getting him back. He shifted to fully turn Makoto, his frown deepening when he spoke of Yuzuki. She probably was doing the same thing he was doing, and that was something he didn't want her to do. He didn't want her to blame herself for her father's death, because that blame was his. She should be blaming him for not being faster, smarter, stronger to protect them all. And he wasn't. He had let her down. She should be blaming him, not herself. He sighed softly, lowering his shoulders in defeat.
"Nothing I do or say will help her. I'll only make it worse for her," he began, refusing to look at Makoto. He should be mad at him too, for not being all those things he should have been. "But if you believe I can reach her, I'll try. She deserves that," he whispered softly. But what would he say to her? What could he say to her? "Just... don't expect it to work."
Makotoās stance softened slightly, and he resisted the urge to sigh. He knew that Mao was going to beat himself up over this for a while, and just as he didnāt think he was the right person to help Yuzu see the light of day again, he didnāt think he was truly the right person to convince Masurao that he had stewed in his guilt for long enough. He suspected that was something they could only do for each other. But perhaps pushing them to it would be good enough for now.
āI expect nothing from nobody,ā he replied, a very tiny twitch to his lip indicating the beginnings of a melancholy smile. āSometimes, I am pleasantly surprised.ā But his words had run out, and their purpose had been served, so with a last nod, he departed the clearing, leaving his fellow hanyou to gather his own courage.