儚いモノ

As Gokotai settled back into his routine at the citadel after returning from his training, he spent more time than usual with Aki. He sat in their lap as they worked, or napped propped against them as they read under the kotatsu, or any other number of things. No one was sure if this was for Aki’s benefit—they’d been distraught while Gokotai had been away—or for Gokotai’s. Some of them had read his letters or heard him talk about his experiences while following Uesugi Kenshin. They understood that he might seek extra comfort after what he’d seen.

Around a week after Gokotai had returned home, Aki began to realize that his usual silence was not out of comfort, nor was it him being polite to allow them to focus. Rather, they realized after glancing over at him when he thought they weren’t looking, he was thinking very deeply about something. He was troubled, and it seemed to have to do with Aki themself. Unsure how to broach the subject, Aki left it, planning on bringing the situation up once they had a plan of action.

However, later that afternoon, Gokotai preempted them. He, Aki, and Kogarasumaru sat around the kotatsu in Aki’s room, sharing tea and an afternoon snack. Gokotai stared into his tea far more than he drank from it, prompting Kogarasumaru to verbally prod him. “Little one, your tea is going to go cold soon.”

Gokotai smiled nervously but did not apologize, which both Aki and Kogarasumaru had expected him to do. Aki was surprised to see his innate anxiety disappear now of all times. However, when he took a deep breath and spoke, they realized he had much more significant things he was worrying about in the moment.

“Aruji-sama,” he began, voice wavering, “You’re going to die someday.” He stated it plainly, without any question. It was a fact, one that he’d apparently been considering the weight of for many days.

Aki startled at the blunt statement. Their stomach knotted as dozens of horrible memories welled up from a wound barely healed no matter how much time had passed.

Kogarasumaru placed a reassuring hand on their leg underneath the kotatsu, giving them a kind, concerned glance. He watched them closely for any sign that he should take over, perhaps divert the conversation.

Instead, though, Aki replied, trying to keep their tone even. “Yes, I will. All humans do, eventually.”

Gokotai’s gaze flicked from his teacup up to Aki’s face. “And you don’t know when it will be,” he continued. He was surprisingly dry-eyed, despite what he was saying.

Aki took a deep, shuddering breath. Kogarasumaru rubbed his thumb slowly against their knee. “That’s right. It probably won’t be for a very long time, though.” They could only hope, anyway. But Gokotai deserved for them to be a little more genuine with what they were saying. They just hoped they were saying the right things. “I’m genuinely worried about it, to be honest with you.” They closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and continued, “Do you know why I became a saniwa, Gokotai?”

“Well,” Gokotai began, and then stopped. His mouth was slightly open, as if he’d meant to answer but second-guessed himself. In fact, he looked confused, suddenly. He clearly thought the question was a non-sequitur. “…B-because you’re good with money…I suppose?”

Kogarasumaru let out a breathy laugh. His hand flew to his mouth and he cleared his throat, trying to pass off his sudden outburst as a coughing fit. The tension in Aki’s brow loosened a little, even if the air still hung heavy in the room. “That’s part of it,” Aki admitted. They tried desperately to hide their amused tone. They took a sip of tea, stealing a moment to collect themself. “Before I became a saniwa, I mostly kept to myself. I didn’t have any permanent job to speak of—I did a little clerical work virtually when I wanted some extra money. It was hard for me to leave the house. I didn’t like interacting with people. Honestly, if I could’ve just disappeared…”

Glancing at Gokotai’s expression, Aki realized they’d never opened up about their past to almost anyone before. Of the swords at the citadel, only Kogarasumaru and, to a degree, Hachisuka would have been familiar with this story. They could feel themself starting to spiral, just slightly, and they didn’t want to upset the tantou any more than they had to, so they decided to barrel through the one last rough patch to get to the point. Aki made eye contact with Kogarasumaru, tilting their head towards Gokotai. Almost imperceptibly, Kogarasumaru nodded. If this got a little too heavy for the tantou, he would diffuse the situation the best a father could.

“My mother died suddenly when I was in my late twenties. We had very little warning; it was really out of nowhere.” Aki took a deep breath. A lump swelled in their throat as they continued. “A few days before she died, we’d had a conversation. It wasn’t a long one, but she talked about how she was worried…that I’d be the way I was forever, and that I’d never really be able to flourish…or something like that.”

Gokotai shifted uncomfortably, looking up at Aki from across the kotatsu with watery eyes.

“When I found out about her, I was worried she’d—“ Aki’s voice broke. They brought their sleeve to their face, hastily wiping their eyes.

Kogarasumaru pushed himself up from his seat and leaned over to take off their glasses. “My dearest, take a moment to compose yourself,” he murmured.

Aki took a deep breath, pausing for a little bit to put their thoughts back on track. “I made a decision a few months afterwards that I would do something important that I cared about. I didn’t quite know what I wanted to do at the time, but I went back to school.” They huffed the barest laugh. “And now I’m here. I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted to prove that I could do all kinds of wonderful things. I could still leave my mark on the world, even if it’s in some small way.”

“Oh,” Gokotai replied, “Ju...just like Tomoegata-sama.” He was right, Aki thought. They’d had a conversation not unlike this with both him and Shizukagata Naginata before. In many ways, Aki related to them, and their lack of a sense of self prior to coming to the citadel.

They nodded in reply. “That’s right. And because you know Tomoegata Naginata, I think you’ll understand my point. I feel better about the idea that compared to you all, I’ve got a pretty short, unpredictable life ahead of me.” Aki looked to the ceiling, misty-eyed. “I’m making all kinds of memories while I’m here. You’ll all remember me when, eventually, I’m gone. There’s no saying what kind of impact I’ll leave, but I’ll still be a part of your story. And that means a lot to me.

“Look at it this way: Uesugi Kenshin met an untimely end, but he still is a part of your history, right?” Aki asked. Gokotai nodded vigorously, his hair bouncing with the motion. “Even if I myself passed on sooner than I would like, I would have already left an impact in your mind as one of your masters. We’ve already made many memories together, after all,” Aki concluded.

Gokotai said nothing. He stared at Aki in silence, his mouth in a small frown. He clearly was thinking through their monologue, trying to piece together what, exactly, their point was, and how he felt about it. The other two shifted about in the meantime, finding the silence heavy but manageable. Aki stretched their shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. Kogarasumaru let out a quiet “Oh dear,” when he realized that he had poured himself the last of the tea. He glanced towards the door, considering going to get more hot water. However, just as he had clearly steeled himself to leave the comfort of the kotatsu, Gokotai spoke up. Kogarasumaru settled right back in, gratefully.

“I-I’m going to do whatever I can to s-support the legacy of this citadel, Aruji-sama!” Gokotai exclaimed, a fire in his eyes that Aki wasn’t sure they’d seen since he’d asked to go on his journey to become stronger in the first place. Kogarasumaru raised his eyebrows in surprise at the outburst.

Aki, meanwhile, couldn’t help but smile. “Please continue to do your best. You’re very good at carrying on the legacy of Uesugi Kenshin, so I have my utmost faith in you.” They pushed themself up from under the kotatsu, perching on their knees to lean across the table. Aki set a hand on Gokotai’s head and ruffled his hair.

As they sat back down, the tantou laughed, easily and lightly, and Aki’s heart swelled with something like pride, and maybe a little relief.

“I will!” Gokotai chirped, a beautiful smile on his face.