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Writes sad drabble at 2.30am because the season finale made me too sad and I am permeantly stuck in denial and will never be over it


 

Nagare’s body is so light in his arms.

The Silver King and his clansmen are gone, so Iwa-san shifts his attention to the boy-no, man- cradled in his arms. Everyone is gone now, regardless of whether they are Silver, Red, Blue or Nagare’s clansmen, fleeing the crumbling hideout. Kotosaka should be safe too, having got out in time.

Like 14 years ago, it is just the two of them again.

It hurts to breathe, the wound in his side caused by Munakata stabbing his innards with burning dull pain. Iwa-san can hear his own harsh breathing echoing around the enclosed space. It does not matter. The huge dust clouds and smoke that arise from the concrete smashing down around them warn him it won’t be long now. He decides to kneel down to better hold Nagare securely, Nagare’s head lolling to the side as he does so. His hand easily fastens around Nagare’s waist, as he makes sure Nagare’s feet don’t hit against the ground. So light. There was really no difference to the body he had carried to safety years ago, a lifetime ago.      

“…You’ve grown up well, Nagare.”

Iwa-san reaches a hand out to gently brush Nagare’s bangs away from his left eye. Careful, so as not to wake Nagare. With his other hand, he grasped one pale slim hand, holding it. His own hand, tanner and rougher than Nagare’s from doing chores, easily covers the younger man’s hand. Brushing his hand along Nagare’s knuckles, he entwined their fingers. Nagare’s hand was still warm, or was that merely an illusion?

Nagare was smiling.

Are you having a good dream, Nagare?

…I’m sorry.

Your dream remained a dream in the end.

…But. It was very fun.

It was ironic. Somewhere the gods (no there were none there were no gods) must be laughing. Iwa-san dully mused, as he softly gazed at his child’s face. There was a roaring in his ears, as the sound of explosions came closer and closer. Back then and now, the earth wanted to bury Nagare alone, where no one could see or hear his cries.

It was different now. Iwafune wouldn’t let Nagare be alone. How could he?

Borrowed time. They had been living on it all these years. Ootori Seigo had died with all his beloved clansmen and Hisui Nagare had lost his innocent carefree childhood forever.

And yet.

Iwafune Tenkei had been born from that disaster, to care for Nagare, to help him grow up and dream. Jungle had been a product of that and had been as much Iwa-san’s new clan as Nagare’s.

Munakata Reisi said Nagare was a corpse.

He could not have been more wrong.

Iwafune who had been watching over Nagare for the past 14 years, knew no one else could have been as alive as Nagare.

Iwa-san’s vision blurred at the corners, and he wondered if he was losing conscious. Oh, he realises as he feels wetness on his cheeks. He's crying.

Ah. This was bad. When he saw Nagare again, Nagare would worry and ask Iwa-san in his always polite tone, was something the matter?

But maybe it was best to get it over with now. So when he sees Nagare, Iwa-san can smile and laugh it off genuinely. If Nagare was still upset, he would have to comfort and take care of Nagare as always he did.

Iwa-san hugged Nagare even closer to him, cradling Nagare's body against his own. He bends his head and drops a chaste kiss on Nagare's forehead. Nagare always got confused by that when he was young, Iwa-san thought. Nagare would never know how to react and it would just make the younger Iwa-san laugh and tease the brat even more.

Iwa-san smiled and squeezed Nagare’s hand tighter.

Iwafune Tenkei would never let go of this hand.