driftfleet | Mingle Post for Solace

[Don't sell yourself short, kid.]

Does anyone else here use paper and music like you do?

No . . . not that I know of.

Then you have much to offer the Fleet with your unique skills, don't you think?

Some of us have no powers, so what you can do is quite amazing.

[He stands and winces, trying to hide it behind his long hair as it drapes over his shoulder.]

Many people would pay to hear a story from you, I think. I know I would.

I don't think I can tell this story just yet.

[ It was a little too intense and close to home. Noticing the wince, his expression flickers. ]

You got hurt.

[He moves to sit next to Kubo, leaning back against the bench.]

Only a little. [He killed far more than his fair share, but that isn't a story he needs to tell the boy. He lets out a measured breath as he looks up at the "sky" above the park.]

But perhaps you can tell a story from my world instead. The story of the angry pig, or the rabbits in the moon.

[ His one eye narrows slightly. ]

There aren't any rabbits in the moon. There's nothing good up there in the Moon.

[There's a story there and now he's curious.]

Why do you say that?

Because I faced the Moon King in combat. I've seen what the Heavens is like through their eyes.

[ Even now, there's an abstract fear of the dark, of the bright gaze the moon might give. ]

[In combat? His eyes widen slightly at that revelation. He hadn't thought Kubo was a fighter for some reason.

And yet there is something else hiding in his eye, something Okita can't place. "Their" eyes, not "his" - there had been more than one opponent.]

It must have been terrible for you.

...But you won, yes? You defeated the king?

Something like that.

[ He brushes some of his hair away from his eyepatch. ]

Victory is not that simple.

[In his mind, there is only the dead and the living, the defeated and the victorious, but he also knows the toll death takes. He's killed more people than he cares to remember. He's never lost a fight, but he can't call himself a victor either.

Cautiously, he reaches out and puts a hand on Kubo's shoulder.]

No, it isn't. I'm sorry you had to fight, Kubo-kun.

[ He just shakes his head. Kubo hardly regrets it. Pride has no meaning in the act either. Everything that led up to that moment, that end . . . was just the way it is. ]

[After a moment, he pulls his hand back and rests against the bench again, studying the sky. He was never very good at giving solace. He never understood why people thought he was. Maybe it was because he said what he wished people had said to him.

He's quiet for a bit and then takes a short breath.]

The people here need your stories, Kubo-kun. Whether they are your real story or make believe, or whether you just bring their stories to life with your power and your paper... [His breath catches and he closes his eyes, clenching his jaw.] You'll be just fine here.

But you're not . . . are you?

[ Meeting him in person is different. And Kubo had an eye for noticing the humanity in others. He can see beyond most. He's witnessed too much at this stage of his life to be otherwise. ]

[He sighs and leans over toward Kubo a little. He knows he's caught, but the easiest lie to tell is the half-truth.]

Can you keep a secret?

I've kept plenty.

[ But he moves closer anyway. ]

[He glances briefly around to check who else is within earshot, and then lightly touches his side just above his obi.]

I apparently cracked a few ribs, so I'm supposed to be on bedrest. But it was so boring, I had to escape. You won't tell anyone, will you?

[It's not the whole truth, but he can't tell anyone the whole truth. To do so would to admit that he would die within the year, maybe two of he were lucky. He can't do that, especially not to a boy who needs to believe people can stay with him.]

[ Kubo frowns. ]

I get it but that seems like a bad idea, Soujirou. What if they come and attack again?

I'll go back once the evening comes. I just couldn't sit in that empty room anymore.

[He had barely recovered from the Ikedaya before coming here and back then, he'd had Saizou to keep him company and Hijikata constantly hovering somewhere nearby. Here, he had no one. The silence was deafening inside the recovery room.

Okita smiles plaintively.]

Just until the evening, okay?

And if they come back... [His voice hardens slightly.] I'll protect you.

You should have said something. I would have come!

And you shouldn't say things like that.

[ His voice breaks. ]

I don't want to see anymore people die.

[His lie has hurt Kubo, but it's better to lie now and let him be angry over not being told about a room, than to have let him see why Okita was in an empty room and break his heart. He'd refused to let anyone in while he was coughing. The smell of the blood clung to him, even after repeated showers, even now.

He smiles apologetically and smooths Kubo's hair back.]

I won't die in a battle, you don't have to worry.

[Was that how he lost his parents? Was it right in front of him?]

But please don't ask me not to protect you. I am a samurai and it is my duty.

[ His mother used to do that. Kubo used to do it as well, smoothing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear when she was barely conscious. That gesture fractures his barely-held together facade.

But at the last remark, his expression hardens and he slips off the bench, holding his bachi in his hand. ]

I'm not weak and I don't need anyone to protect me.

[ Kubo pulls out his shamisen, swiping the bachi sharply across the strings. The leaves around them quiver and flutter before swirling around him like a tornado before he tugs the strings again and they stop in mid-air before dropping like dead weights. ]

I don't want anyone to protect me anymore.

[He jolts his hand back when Kubo leaves and the leaves swirl around him in a facsimile of his fury. His hand hovers for a moment and then he rests it in his lap.

So they died protecting him then. That anger comes from a place of pain, something he's seen before in Tetsu and Tatsunosuke; and in himself. He watches Kubo for a moment, and then nods his understanding.]

Protecting you is not about you being weak. I didn't mean to imply that. [He just knows that some people have to do the things everyone else finds unsavory - like killing, assassinations, and such. He has no problem doing that. His hands are so far stained, he can't care about that anymore.]

....Also, it's likely they did not regret losing their lives for you, even if you regret them doing it.

I know that!

[ But anger is fleeting because Kubo knew better. He knew what his parents gave up, what they fought for, just to be with him. Every moment of their lives was given to his life, his continued existence on this planet. His eye, the mirror to his soul meant that much to them.

The strings he looped together into a band still hangs loosely around his wrist. His mother's strand of hair, Kubo's and his father's bowstring. Weaved together. Complete.

His shoulders sag and he squeezes his single eye shut. ]

The story's ended. It's over. And it was a happy ending but my heart still hurts.

[It has to have been recent - very recent. The pain is still very raw and Okita can see how he's trying to convince himself that things are finished and done, while his heart is still trying to mend.]

Maybe it isn't over yet.

[He lets out a soft breath and turns his head, coughing to clear his throat.]

One chapter has finished, a large and terrible chapter, but your story is far from over, I think.

[He doesn't move to reassure Kubo this time, just waits and watches.]

It can't be a happy ending yet if you are in such pain, can it?

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