[temehika] let daylight dry your tears

Mugen’s lifeless body, clad entirely in armour, crashed onto the floor with a clatter. The metal puppet collapsed in a way that would be impossible with a human body inside, its stiff limbs twisting in painful angles. When his helmet slid off, the face underneath was unrecognisable to Hikari; he knew not whether it was the purple flame’s influence, or if this was his brother underneath all along. 

 

For a moment, everything was quiet. Despite the blade in his hand and the blood at his feet, there were no chilling whispers heard in his own voice, no jeering chuckle as he struggled to remain in control of his own body. 

 

It felt like the first time in years since he felt such a deafening silence. 

 

He looked upon what remained of Mugen, a husk stripped of all its humanity. He thought of his shadow’s last words, a haunting reminder of his presence even amidst his absence. Hikari had grown to anticipate his words, repeating them to himself now: isn’t this what you wanted all along? Didn’t you enjoy adorning your blade with his blood?

 

With his shadow no longer in sight, it only made him feel ridiculous that he was imagining it on his own. He had to kill Mugen. There was no other way. 

 

A creak cut through the silence as the heavy doors opened further, revealing a familiar silhouette.

 

“Prince Hikari?”

 

“Kazan…” 

 

The Eagle of Ku had entered the throne room. It was rare to see Kazan venture into the heart of the battlefield, especially with no visible weapon on his person. Hikari still thought it flattering that he had faith that he would best Mugen. Then again, it felt like he only constituted a small part of Kazan’s unwavering faith in his own strategies. 

 

As if affirming his thoughts, Kazan smiled in the same subtly triumphant way he did when he placed his winning piece on a shogi board. “So you’ve done it. Well done, my prince.” 

 

Kazan was different from him. Just as he never felt joy after every victory over Ritsu on the training grounds, he felt nothing from this moment. He recognized that Mugen’s downfall was the first step in his dream, but he was never one to view things as a meticulous plan to be played out one by one. A necessary murder was a murder nonetheless.

 

Hikari shook his head. “Do you think it was the right thing to do?” 

 

“It was what you chose to do. Surely you must know by now that the victor determines what is right or wrong, not the other way around. Everyone who fights for your cause believes in your right.” 

 

He was correct, of course. Hikari had spent enough time with Mugen during their childhood to know that his brother sincerely believed in the tyranny he perpetuated as king. But it was only then, when Mugen lay dead at his feet, that Hikari felt even a sliver of the weight of that position. Suddenly, he felt the physical burden of countless lives on his shoulders, his ankles weighed down by all the lives he had ended. 

 

“Your expression doesn’t befit a banished prince who has finally reclaimed his homeland. You stand at the pinnacle of Ku now, you know.” 

 

“Forgive me, Kazan. I just feel… a little tired,” Hikari buried the understatement under his breath, as if fooling the tactician meant fooling himself. As if on instinct, as if he had wanted to do so all along, he leaned into Kazan’s chest, expecting to feel some kind of relief when his own two feet weren’t the only thing keeping him upright.

 

It didn’t come. Kazan had grabbed his shoulders, an unreadable expression flashing through his eyes. It was different from the sorrow Hikari detected in him sometimes, but something told him they stemmed from the same source that he was not privy to. In a moment, Kazan looked the same as he always did. 

 

“...Everyone’s waiting for you to declare our victory. The fighting won’t end until you declare it to, my prince.” 

 

Hikari shifted his focus; his friends were still risking their lives for his sake. “...Of course.”

 

He was distinctly aware that no other footsteps followed his own as he left the throne room.

 

-

 

Hikari could not know who had landed the final blow; the combined assault of the eight travellers had finally proven to be enough to fell the corrupt god. Its remains scattered in the same purple embers that brought it to the world: the sight that marked the departure of another dear friend. 

 

The voices of his companions soon turned joyous: Partitio’s cries of victory, Agnea’s relieved laughter, Ochette’s celebratory cheers. The skies above them were beginning to brighten, indicating an end to the suffocating darkness of the night. Hikari sheathed his blade and, as if the absence of his weapon drained his body of all its adrenaline from the earlier fight, his legs suddenly gave out. 

 

“Ah —do be careful. There are only so many unconscious patients Castti and I can afford to treat, you know?” 

 

Temenos had broken his fall rather awkwardly, one of his hands preoccupied with his own weapon. Realising this, he mumbled “Let me just…” and dropped his staff, clattering against the tiles of the stone platform. With both his hands free, he helped Hikari back on his feet, but stopped just short of letting go of his shoulders. 

 

“Are you alright?” His eyes turned soft with a concern that was rare, but not unseen in the cleric. 

 

Hikari blinked. He didn’t know how to describe that he had fully expected to fall flat onto the ground once his body had given up on him. Or perhaps he would have halted his own fall with his own reflexes; he always did have a better sense for these things. A part of him wanted to collapse on the ground, as if it would be the only thing that could comfort him after such an arduous—both physically and emotionally—fight. 

 

The cloth of Temenos’ cloak had been a lot more comforting. 

 

“I’m fine,” he said, before he could articulate any kind of real response. “What about the others?” 

 

“Castti is tending to Osvald at the moment, though his exhaustion seems to be a simple matter of mana depletion. The rest of them are… surprisingly well, given the situation. That leaves only you.”

 

Hikari glanced around and saw Ochette and Agnea peering over the edge of the platform, no doubt looking for the newly dawning sun. “I… simply lost my bearings for a moment. I’m fine,” he repeated. 

 

“Are you certain? True, I see no fatal wounds in need of urgent treatment on you, but… that man. The two of you were close, were you not?” 

 

Oh. He understood why Temenos had come to his aid first; why he was close enough to break his fall in the first place. Kazan always did seem to intrigue Temenos, and Hikari had thought sincerely about introducing the two one day, once Ku had recovered from the war.

 

He supposed that day would no longer come. 

 

“...I may have been mistaken about that. I could not anticipate any of his actions, even long before today. When even what little I knew of him turned out to be a lie, can I truly call myself his friend?” 

 

Temenos said nothing, but the look in his eyes had changed. They were sharper, more focused. It was how he looked at his interrogatees, probing every word with a magnifying glass. It almost felt embarrassing to be listened to with such an intensity. Despite that, it compelled him to speak, unceasingly so, a confession he had reburied so many times he didn’t know he could uncover it.

 

“I…I couldn’t do the right thing. I could have saved him—pulled him away from the flames, prevented any of this from happening. I thought about Ritsu, who I had unknowingly pushed away until he was no longer someone I could reach my hand towards. And Rai Mei, whose precious family was threatened merely out of the consequences of my existence.

 

“When I looked upon Kazan one last time, I didn’t see a man I recognised—even moreso than Ritsu, and even Mugen… I was appalled at my inability to make any kind of impact on his life. Even if I had grabbed his hand then, could I truly have saved him from the flames that followed? Is there truly… nothing I could have done?

 

“I have always been afraid of regretting my actions, or questioning what I must do. I feared it revealed an underlying darkness inside me… that I had no choice but to march forward, reaching for the light in the distance. But… I’ve lost so much, and that light is no closer than it has ever been. I cannot stop, and yet… I fear what I must become to continue walking.” 

 

He looked desperately at Temenos, as if he could somehow deduce the perfect answer for him like he always did, during his investigations. But Temenos only looked back at him, and slowly pulled him into an embrace, resting his hand on the back of Hikari’s head as he held him closer. It certainly was comforting, resting his head on the scruff of Temenos’ hood. 

 

“...It must have been hard,” Temenos murmured. 

 

It wasn’t the response Hikari wanted to hear. But its simple utterance had struck so deep inside him that he felt tears swelling up and pouring out, rolling hot streaks down his face. 

 

Crying hadn’t brought his mother back, just as revenge couldn’t bring back Ritsu’s father. At some point amidst the war he was thrusted into, he had decided neither would be necessary on his road for peace. He cried no tears for his fallen comrades, choosing to forge ahead like they would have bade him do. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten how to cry for himself in the process. 

 

And now, he cried and cried, as if all the years of restraining them had finally broken the reservoir. Temenos stroked his hair slowly, which only coaxed more tears from him. Hikari could barely remember the last time someone had been so intimate with him, only the last time he had wanted it from someone else. 

 

Temenos allowed him to pull away on his own, wiping away the remainder of his tears with his hands. “My apologies, Temenos. And… thank you.”

 

“I don’t believe I did much to warrant such gratitude. I was merely tending to my flock,” Temenos smiled. “Though if I may provide a more substantial answer…it is perfectly normal to doubt one’s decisions once the consequences are plain to see. What’s important is that you respond to those consequences in turn. And you must remember that you aren’t alone, Hikari.”

 

He offered Hikari his hand, and the two of them rose back on their feet. Their eyes drifted to the expanse ahead as one, a blinding light creeping through the pillars. 

 

“And look,” said Temenos, “soon the dawn will be upon us. As it always has.”

 

“...Indeed. The dawn has come.” Hikari breathed, holding Temenos’ hand ever so tighter.

 

“Hikari!” Castti had called out to him, and was by his side in a moment. She looked him over frantically, and sighed in relief when she found no visible threats to his life. “Thank goodness you’re alright. But I’ll still need to have a closer look at you later.” 

 

“Are the two of you back at last? I thought the sun was going to be high in the sky by the time you were done,” Throné smiled knowingly at them, crossing her arms. 

 

“ Done ? What do you…” Hikari started, noticing his other comrades gathering around them.

 

“Well, there was no way we were going to disturb you two while you were like that ,” Agnea chimed in, a subtle blush on her face.

 

“Yeah, and I don’t see why not!” Ochette exclaimed. “Hugs are better with more people!”

 

“Er… we were just talking. Well, I suppose I did most of the talking, but…” Hikari muttered. “I’m not sure why that happened.”

 

“I’m very good at what I do, you know.” Temenos chuckled, “but all I gave you was a light push.”

 

Partitio soon followed, his voice as hearty as ever. “Heck, the rest of us might not be interrogators, but we’d happily lend you an ear anytime!”

 

“One would think an occupation like that would hinder a conversation like that. But I suppose you found a way to make it work.” Osvald nodded.

 

“I’ll have you know, I prefer the term Inquisitor ,” sighed Temenos. “But it takes more than occupational experience to be a good friend.”

 

With that, he smiled towards Hikari, and Hikari smiled back. 

 

Ochette’s patience seemed to have finally run out as she tackled the two into a hug before promptly knocking them back onto the ground. Then Partitio joined the pile, followed by a giggling Agnea who had dragged a more reluctant Throné with her. Osvald merely crouched on the edge before he was inevitably pulled in as well. It was warm, it was suffocating and it probably left Hikari with more broken bones than before, as Castti warned them before graciously offering him a hug of her own. 

 

But that would be for another day.