Chiyo watched the child eat, his movement graceful, and every flick of his finger finessed like he had been practicing it all his life. He was very different compared to when they first met. Hurried and inelegant, he ate like a vagrant, but now, the way he moves, one would think Kazuki has the bearing of a prince. Such a big transformation — if she wasn't there, she would think the child was switched, for etiquette and elegance cannot be taught for one night.
"Do you like to eat more?" She asked. "You need to replenish your energy."
The little boy slightly shook his head. Reaching the table napkin, he wiped his mouth with it.
"Thank you for the food." Kazuki said.
Chiyo nodded silently, her brows drew together — still in disbelief. For a child to change overnight, was she really duped like what her husband insisted? She shook her head. The physician had already told her that it was possible to have a drastic change.
A trauma — the possibility of change can happen because of it. That's why he also called her his sister.
"He hit his head hard on the stone. It was no simple injury, though it healed very fast, we cannot invalidate that he still has it." The physician explained to her. "He might also be thinking that you were his sister. He is still in shock and can't accept reality."
But what about his poise?
Shaking her head, Chiyo decided not to think about it anymore and just focused on the present.
"Let's talk." She started, deep and serious brown eyes looked at her attentively. "So... The thing is we are busy these days, and I can't look after you everyday. I know someone of your race. He will take you to his clan. I think it is better for you to learn the ways of your race since you're still a child."
Chiyo was relieved to see the child obediently nodding his head.
"We'll go later. I'll let you rest for a while."
In a dimly lit room, two figures sat on a wooden chair, lacquered and polished, it bore the weight of their nonchalance. Elbows resting on the arms of the chair, as if the world were a mere inconvenience, Kazuki waited in silence, on the other hand, his companion, sat lazily. Her gaze, half-lidded and languid, swept her gaze at the door that just creaked open. From the entrance, a buffed muscular tanuki guy emerged. His cropped brown hair sticking out in rebellious angle like he had just been into a brawl,— a real mess.
"Welcome home." Chiyo greeted, her lips tugged upward — a cunning smile.
Gohan stopped from his track, eyes turning into a slit as he swept his gaze around his own house. Everything is still the same, except for the two that do not belong to the place. They were of the same expressions, like two peas in a pod, both wearing a nonchalant face as if the world bore them.
"How did you get in?" He asked, checking the lock for any damage. He was not surprised anymore for this kind of behavior is expected from her.
Chiyo shrugged her shoulder. "Through the door, of course."
"Does the commander know you're here?" Gohan placed his hand on his chin, wondering how Chiyo was able to go in even though the lock was untouched.
"He's the one who suggested I come here, but you're not home."
"So you invited yourself in."
"So I waited... Inside."
"You mean you break-in."
"Nope. It is not a break-in if nothing's broken and missing."
Gohan could only shake his head helplessly. It he were to argue with her then it will take all day, then they wouldn't be able to talk about anything useful at all.
"You win." He said, finally surrendering. He slid on a stool, arms resting on the table. "I'm guessing you want me to raise the child since you brought him here."
"Uh-huh." Chiyo agreed, she tapped her finger on the table. A habit she got when getting someone's attention. "You know I am not fit to take care of a child, especially a tanuki. You have different ways and teachings for your own kind."
"Well, I guess that's true." Hairs standing up, Gohan was surprised to see the little tanuki boy glare at him with unknown anger. "But, why do I seem so repulsive in the eyes of this little boy?"
He used to meet him with his sister. He gave them food and sometimes copper, but how come Kazuki changed his attitude towards him. He hasn't done anything to him at all. And he's even willing to take him to their village to be taken care of by the elders.
"Are you sure you have the same child, this one's a bit different."
"I don't want to go with an idiot!" Heads turned faster than the wind, Chiyo almost broke her neck.She was not expecting that, Kazuki has been nothing but obedient this morning.
"He's the same one." She forcefully said as if nothing was heard. "He's just like that because of what happened. Anyways, take him with you and be sure to raise him well."
"I said I don't want to go with an idiot."
Crown prince Ryota — no — Kazuki, had met him before in his first life. He was the same age as Gohan. They had fought battles, shared laughter, and drank together. At that time, amidst the falling cherry blossoms a brotherhood was found. It was when he first met him.
Torn kimono, and chipped Katana — Ryota limped toward a stream. Exhausted and wounded, he hadn't even got a chance to sleep nor rest after being attacked by a group of assassins in Kubi yama, a mountain where mist clung to the gnarled branches. Its very name echoed the crunch of bones underfoot.
"Need help, brother?" Gohan looked up from the stream, his eyes wide with naivety, and water dripping down his chin.
"No need. Mind your own business." Ryota said, rejecting his help because of his pride.
"You're gonna fight with that?" Gohan pointed at his sword, a chipped katana.
Ryota's eyebrows drew together, annoyed, the grip on his sword tightened.
"I said mind your own business." He said through gritted teeth.
A laugh echoed, and the birds took flight, surprised by the loud noise.
"I remember now! Aren't you that spoiled prince?" Unaware of the darkening gaze, Gohan continued his bout. "Whose master did you offend again? Crown prince my foot. It's because you are so troublesome that you are in this state right now."
Frustrated, Ryota drew a breath , the action hurting his chest. He leaned on a nearby tree, black spots are starting to appear on his vision. He admits that he had been too arrogant and spoiled. Born with the bearing of a royalty, a golden privilege. He thought he could do anything in this world.
Only now, that his life is hanging by the thread, did he realize that he has been too immature. He had skipped every morning training, drank alcohol, and found trouble with anyone he finds annoying. The results — a weak body, and a lot of enemies.
Trees rustled, assassins came next, landing on the land perfectly. Ryota paid it no mind, eyes half-lidded, he waited for a blade to end his useless life. However, minutes came and he's still breathing. Looking up, he witnessed the muscular guy fighting the assassins with his bare fist. He landed a punch, his adversary was flung a distance away, blood seeping from his mouth. Gohan fought like a cornered beast, fueled by aggressiveness and rage, his fist his very weapon — a raw power. It was a fighting style learned from his ancestors and passed through generations. Finesse and elegance were not their way, their knuckles hold the weight of their history, each strike telling a story.
Ryota watched in bated breath as Gohan fought the assassins on his own, defeating all of them in an instant.
"You," he started, hands trembling from pain. "I owe you."
Gohan smiled at him, his fist raised in the air like a victor. "Then buy me a drink next time, brother!"
Was all he heard, then unconsciousness followed.
"Oho." As if realization hit, Gohan looked at Chiyo and the child. "By any chance, is he your secret child. Why am I seeing your attitude from him?"
Chiyo scoffed, the gears on her mind instantly rolling to rebut, then her lips curled up into a smile making his hairs stand.
"He's a tanuki. I'll tell the commander that you —" Chiyo pointed at the idiot in front of her "and I, had an affair. Say what?"
Gohan choked from his saliva. As if that would ever happen, the commander is going to skin him alive for sure.
"I-I was just joking." He said, smiling innocently. "Anyways, I can't just take him if he doesn't want to, and look at him throwing daggers at me as if I owe him my life."
"Then who—" Chiyo stood up, her eyes brightening. "We will go now. I know who can take care of him. No thanks for your help."
Chiyo walked out the door, and the boy followed suit. Kazuki is still glaring daggers — a mask to conceal his sadness. Gohan was his first friend, a brother not bound by blood.
Looking back, he saw him already turned around. His back is a picture of a lone figure — a warrior left alone. Kazuki had seen the bottle of sake he had gifted him on their last meeting, untouched and dusty. He wondered — what happened after his death. Did his friend look for him?
Did Gohan weep for his deceased brother?