A/N: A longer chapter update this time, to make up for taking ages to cough this one up

Thank you so so much for the reviews: The Lord of Insomnia, The Sirius of Black Daria, Derpywerpy and Guest-san hehe, I truly appreciate it! I am also trying to improve on my writing so please bear with me, I hope you enjoy this :D

Chapter 4: Inner Demons

The sun had barely peeked out of the horizon when it found the village already abuzz with activity. Nearly everyone was discussing the events that had transpired the night before, with the exception of Ichi Seya, who was laying still on his futon, staring at the wall with his back to the door. He hadn't left his room for two days now. Contrary to what others think, Seya had not been able to catch a wink of sleep all this time. How could he, when every time his eyes slid shut, a scene of carnage greeted him beneath his eyelids?

Mutilated limbs lay strewn detached from their owners, literal streams of blood pooled beneath his feet and heavy smoke and ashes billowed out of houses set ablaze, irritating his eyes and lungs. The tortured cries and groans of dying men, women and children filled his ears from every direction.

He had held the hands of one of his men, an enthusiastic new recruit on his first mission, who was now struggling to keep his eyes open. He sobbed for his mother and Seya could hear sickening gurgles coming from his chest with each shallow breath. Seya had desperately wanted to stay and comfort the young teenager until the end but how could he, when so many more of his men were suffering, dying and needed a hand to hold just as much?

It had taken all of his willpower to not puke his guts out on his shoes. He had a few remaining men standing, and he was still their commander after all. Even as he passed grieving families weeping over bodies of their loved ones, huddled in front of their charred homes, he kept his spine straight all the way back to their village as a final display of fortitude.

Casualties of war. It happens, Seya had told himself.

He felt sick of his own attempts at apathy. All those innocent civilians caught in the middle of their crossfire.

But we are victims too, a voice tried to reason in his head. The Tokugawa shogunate had collapsed and abandoned their clan. They were betrayed and left to fend for themselves without assistance, branded as traitors.

Still, doesn't justify what you've done, another voice reminded him.

From under the covers, Seya could hear a commotion brewing outside but he felt too numb to bring himself to care. He was still not ready to feel. He burrowed deeper into the futon, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

That is until someone passed close enough beside his window for him to hear a woman say, "Is it true that minister Tsukishima ran away?"

With that Seya stiffened and his eyes snapped open.

"I have never pegged him for an irresponsible person. He might be young but I think he values honor above his life."

"What's going to happen to us now? All the other young ministers are dead."

"I heard the retired senior ministers have offered to take his place."

An audible gasp. "Oh my goodness."

A man harrumphed loudly. "Minister Tsukishima is a complete disgrace. The whole extended family should be exiled and stripped out of all title and land."

"Eh, isn't that a bit harsh? I have always thought that he was merely at the wrong place and time. He was only very recently appointed after all."

"But to drag other families into it – it's highly dishonorable," said man argued. Seya heard several faint hums of agreement.

"Oh and I hear Kuroda has also disappeared…?"

"Don't be silly, Kuroda has just returned from the battlefield! He's heavily wounded, I expect him to be on bed rest."

"As a minister and commander-in-chief you should be prepared for seppuku. If you are not then you shouldn't be one. What a coward."

Seya threw the covers off and sat up, head spinning from the sudden motion. The group had walked too far for him to catch snippets of their conversation any longer but he had heard enough. He didn't know what to be surprised at: the fact that Tsukishima had agreed to commit seppuku and then shirked his responsibilities, or the fact that the retired ministers now had to gut themselves.

He exhaled the breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding and jumped to his feet. Steadying himself on the wall with one hand, Seya tried to ignore his trembling legs and the aching wounds. Had his friends really left the clan? He knew that Kuroda would definitely not be on bed rest with the predicament Tsukishima was in.

He found some of the elders in the household sitting with somber faces outside his room and they looked up at him in surprise when he burst out the door. Seya's brown hair was untied and hung loosely around his face, eyes wild, skin swathed in bandages, and his usually serene and gentle expression looked stricken and unnaturally gaunt.

"Where's Tsukishima? Where's Kuroda?" he demanded in a raspy voice.

There was a brief moment of silence as they glanced at each other with guilty looks on their faces before speaking up.

"Seya, we don't know, nobody has seen them – "

"Why didn't anyone tell me ANYTHING?!" he bellowed, harshly cutting them off. He limped towards his slippers before going out the front door and slamming it shut, the wooden frames rattling in its wake.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was a bright sunny day outside and Tsukishima was sitting in his porch, still dressed in his white yukata, inking the washi paper with a few short careful brushstrokes. Draining his sake cup, he read through his composition with a rather stoic appearance, however Kuroda did not miss how the slim fingers gripping the brush are slightly trembling. Seemingly satisfied, he placed the brush and the sake cup on the tatami mat beside him, set the paper down for the ink to dry, and picked up the wooden platform he had been using as a table, before slipping it under his knees.

The Kaishakunin standing behind him wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it silently from its scabbard. As he raised it above his head, Kuroda could see the metal blade glinting in the sunlight. Kuroda's stomach churned and he could feel the bile rise up his throat; he clenched his sweaty hands.

Meanwhile on the floor Tsukishima undid his yukata quietly, eyes closed, revealing smooth pale skin that Kuroda had just kissed and caressed just a few hours before. He could even still see some of the bruises he had left along the expanse of those collarbones, that chest; purple blossoms blooming on creamy skin. It all seemed so surreal.

A quivering hand slowly stretched out towards the knife lying on the mat, and as soon as those fingers grasped the handle, the Kaishakunin swung his blade down without warning in one swift motion. Tsukishima fell face first on to the floor.

Except everything went wrong. Tsukishima started screaming and writhing on the ground, blood spurting out of his neck onto the straw colored mat. Apparently it had not been a clean cut. Kuroda watched in horror as the Kaishakunin brought down his sword again and again, frantically trying to end his suffering, yet Tsukishima continued to struggle in pain, his hands gripping tightly around his neck. Blood splattered the walls and the white fabric pooled around his waist was quickly drenched in red.

Kuroda felt warm flecks of blood hit his face before he finally found his voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" he yelled and tried to leap to his feet but his body remained strangely frozen in place, as though he had been petrified and can only watch the gruesome scene unfold before him. No matter how many times Tsukishima was struck he remained conscious; blood gushed out of the laceration in steady streams, and tear tracks glistened on his contorted blood-speckled face.

The room was gradually dripping in a horrifying amount of blood, yet Kuroda couldn't take his eyes away from Tsukishima's shuddering form. His heart was beating a mile a minute and feeding to the incessant pounding in his head. His best friend was choking quietly by now, green eyes wide open reflecting the blue sky above and clinging on to the last vestiges of life.

The sunlight shimmered on long silky auburn strands splayed on the porch and Kuroda just sat there and watched, as a crimson rivulet slowly trickled to where he was sitting, staining the edges of his robes a deep scarlet.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Kuroda awoke with a start, weeping, as he mourned Tsukishima's passing, and the tears mingled with the sweat on his neck. Nevertheless soon enough, memories of the previous night caught up to him in a rush and he rapidly realized that all of that crazy stuff was just a horrible and extremely realistic dream. Taking in deep shuddering breaths, he felt relief sweep over him inwaves - it was just a dream.

Kuroda stretched his tight limbs, feeling the joints pop and ran a quick assessment of his body. The ground felt hard underneath his back, his throat was as dry as sandpaper and his wounds were still throbbing and stinging away. The small cavern had gotten rather dark and judging from the warm quality of light he could see outside, the sun had begun to set. He turned sideways to check on Tsukishima, and a feeling of indescribable panic bubbled over him when Kuroda realized that he was all alone - the space beside him was empty. He shot to his feet and hobbled outside, looking around frantically. Tsukishima wouldn't have left him, would he?

"Tsukishima! Tsukishima! Tsukishima!" Kuroda called out hurriedly, crashing through the undergrowth at no specific direction like a madman. All he could hear in response were the chirping of cicadas and leaves rustling in the breeze overhead.

"TSUKISHIMAAA!" he hollered again, spinning around on the spot.

"What?" A quiet voice suddenly answered from behind him.

Kuroda spun around so fast he almost fell. "Tsukishima?" He looked around wildly.

He spotted the brunette in question leaning against a tree, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching Shino drink water from a bowl that came out of nowhere. His robes were smudged with dirt at the hems and he had a tired angry look on his face.

"You forgot to leave water for Shino," said Tsukishima quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the horse.

"Oh right."

Kuroda bit his lip and slowly made his way over to the other man, dried leaves crunching noisily under his feet. Tsukishima had stayed. There's a chance that things might not be so bad, right?

Nevertheless he could sense the obvious tension radiating off the motionless figure in front of him and soon enough, the smaller man exhaled sharply through his nose, before turning his head to face him, locking their eyes together.

"What have you done?"

His tone was accusatory and restrained with quiet anger. Kuroda stopped in his tracks and opened his mouth as if to say something; a million things ran through his mind, however he found himself rather speechless. He closed his mouth shut, his teeth clacking together.

"Did you think about my mother at all?" Tsukishima asked again, betrayal etched on his face.

The raven head looked down to his feet, fists curled loosely on his sides and remained silent, not trusting himself to speak. He had always prided himself as a level-headed man driven by logic and reason, especially as a military commander and a science enthusiast. He understood where Tsukishima was coming from; this decision he had made to kidnap his friend had defied all rational thinking. But still…

"I'm sorry. I'll go in your stead," he finally said. "You can take Shino and I'll run back now, I should be able to meet someone along the way who can offer me a ride." Kuroda looked into Tsukishima's bewildered green eyes and cautioned, "Just promise me you'll stay clear off the big cities and lay low, I'll handle the rest back home."

Tsukishima gaped at him. "Are you stupid? You're going to take responsibility? Do you think your death will be enough to appease them, especially after all this?" he gestured wildly.

"I'll fix it on my own," Kuroda insisted.

"No you idiot! Just let me go back there by myself and I'll take care of this. This is an order, and I'm taking Shino." Tsukishima glared at him, mouth set in a firm line, intent on having the last word. As angry as he was at Kuroda, he only wished for the man to remain alive and safe.

They stared at each other for a brief moment before Kuroda made his way over, closing the distance between them. He gingerly reached out to take Tsukishima's hands and gripped it tightly with his larger ones. The latter's hands twitched once and his eyes widened but otherwise he stood his ground, eyeing the other warily.

"Wh- what do you want?"

"If you insist on going back, I won't fight you. But please allow me one last thing," Kuroda replied softly, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply before opening them again. "Let me go back with you."

His grey orbs burned with such intense sincerity Tsukishima felt his breath hitch in his throat. "There is no reason for me to stay alive if you're gone. Even the clan is no more and Tokugawa has fallen. I have no family left except for you, Tsukishima," Kuroda continued with a low voice.

Their proximity had brought forth unbidden memories of the kiss they had shared the previous night to the front of Tsukishima's mind, and despite the seriousness of the situation he felt his cheeks heat up. They were standing so close together that Tsukishima could detect Kuroda's scent and body heat on his skin, and a fierce shiver ran down his spine. He tried to wring his hands out of the man's grasp - but to no avail.

"You're being absurd, this is completely unnecessary," he protested, perhaps louder than necessary, hoping that it would drown out the forceful thumping of his heart. "You have your whole life ahead of you. Do you get that this is about you dying for no reason at all?" Tsukishima admonished, glowering up at him and at the same time trying to push the man further away – being too close to Kuroda was sending his nerves into overdrive.

The raven head's brows creased in disbelief and a short breathless laugh escaped his lips. "Yeah of course I'm aware of that, I know how serious this is. Do you think I would've brought you here if I didn't understand the implications? If I wasn't prepared to die with you – to die for you?"

At those words Tsukishima felt the blush deepen and spread across his face, the pounding in his chest becoming almost unbearable as he clenched his fists nervously, unable to tear his gaze away from those familiar eyes.

"But what about Seya– oof! "

The clammy palms holding him suddenly jerked him forward, pulling his chest flat against Kuroda's. An intense flush had decorated the older man's cheeks and he leaned forward, capturing Tsukishima's mouth in a tender kiss. It was chaste and short-lived, but Kuroda's lips felt searing hot against his and it left behind a pleasant tingle, like a buzz of electricity. Kuroda kept a firm grip on his wrists, keeping him close, and Tsukishima wondered if the man could feel the blood pulsing erratically in his veins underneath those calloused fingertips. The brunette suppressed a shudder and looked away; the yukata he was wearing suddenly felt too warm and constricting.

"Tsukishima, I had a dream earlier that you went ahead with the seppuku and died this morning," Kuroda began hoarsely, finally releasing their hands and running his fingers through the dark unkempt hair. He shut his eyes and buried his face in his hands before continuing, his voice muffled, "I know that it's just a dream, but honestly it felt so real."

Lifting his head back up, there was an uncharacteristically open expression displayed across his features that reminded Tsukishima of a much younger Kuroda. "I felt so crushed, and… and really, it's like a big part of me died along," he muttered, looking away, the tips of his ears turning red. Warmth spread across Tsukishima's own face and neck, and he felt frozen into place, unable to look away. He still found it strange to see Kuroda so bashful and… gentle.

Kuroda rubbed his palm on his forehead, the flush on his face still apparent. "Any shred of doubt I had disappeared in an instant, and I knew that I'd made the right decision. And if you leave this world Tsukishima, l will follow you," he vowed. Brushing the hair out of Tsukishima's eyes, Kuroda added wryly, "Plus if you're worried about Seya, that's all the more reason for you to stay alive, don't you think? How would you ever see him again otherwise?"

Tsukishima bit his lip and turned away, at a loss for words. An owl hooted twice in the distance, breaking the momentary hush and Shino snorted softly in response, hooves pawing the ground. It was getting dark and the last rays of sunlight were struggling to reach the forest ground; they would need to start a fire soon. After a long stretch of silence, Tsukishima finally spoke, and it was at a nearly inaudible whisper.

"I don't want you to die."

"I don't want you to die either," Kuroda echoed, without missing a beat. "Funny how you used to always tell me to go and die eh Tsukishima?" he chuckled softly. "And who knows maybe all three of us will be together again, wouldn't that be great? Seya and I missed hanami season this year after all," he added, lips twisted in a wistful smile. He leaned against a tree trunk and slid down to sit at the jutting roots, shutting his eyelids. He was quivering, eyes watering, and his complexion was awfully flushed; Kuroda felt light headed, like he was about to pass out.

Tsukishima took notice and was hovering over him in an instant. "Kuroda? Are you alright?" he questioned, pressing a cool palm against his forehead and neck. His eyes widened, "Kuroda, you're burning up."

"Maybe we can get those chick buns that you like," the taller man mumbled, as Tsukishima hoisted him to his feet and started to guide him slowly back towards the cavern.

"Yeah, let's."

Tears stung Tsukishima's eyes when he thought of how Kuroda had always made sure to stock the confectionery at his place. This man once caught a terrible cold because he waited out in the pouring rain just to get Tsukishima those damn buns – what an idiot, Tsukishima thought, but yet so, so endearing.

It wasn't until a while later after Kuroda was tightly cocooned in blankets and a small fire crackled outside the cave that Tsukishima broke down and wept, for his mother, and the home he left behind. Knowing her pride and honor, he knew that she would be gone by daybreak, never to witness another sunrise again.