KINTSUGI ⊳jin sakai x yuna

に (two)

While the mongols are a brute, arguably terrifying force, Jin forgot what it's like to be hunted by his own kind. Even the slightest of sounds make him flinch and glance backwards. And every single damn time, the tip of the arrow still stuck in his left shoulder makes him regret it.

The moon is high in the sky, full and bright. If it weren't for the way his vision blurs and bones ache, he would like to spend it with some sake and good company.

Not like he has much good company left to speak of. Ryuzo, his uncle, everyone from before Komoda beach is either dead, or against him.

Almost everyone, he corrects himself. There's Ishikawa, Masako, and...Yuna.

He would like to spend a night like this with Yuna, just like he did before the Yarikawa siege.

In this very moment, however, sleep sounds the most alluring. Jin is convinced that if he would slip out of the saddle, he would fall asleep on the ground in the very first moment of impact. Even like this, slouched over, right hand placed over his shoulder, left hand holding the reins, his eyes threaten to fall shut.

What stands between him and sleep is nothing but frigid fear. Jin cannot shake off the feeling that every step Kage takes might be their last one.

Sure, he has avoided roads, has wasted his stallion's precious energy on leaving foot tracks that would be particularly misleading to follow.

But what if?, he thinks. What if, by some slim chance, among the few men he left alive and fled from happens to be an expert tracker? What if they've adapted to his ways just like the  Khan had, and are now sneaking behind him, just waiting to strike?

Kage neighs, shakes his head. Jin lets go of his left shoulder and pats the horse's neck. "What's wrong?" he asks, without expecting an answer.

When he glances ahead, Jin understands just how unnecessary his question was.

Mamushi farmstead lies right in front of them. Countless dead, incinerated bodies line the ground, some impaled like fish on a spear.

The air smells like burnt meat and wood.

He remembers the way Yuna had not been able to enter that wretched place. And the way he had made the Mamushi brothers bleed, for her.

He needs to return sometime soon, finish off the remaining mongols, free the slaves. He could tell Yuna about it, maybe she would recognize some of them. Or maybe it could help her to accompany him this time, give her some much needed closure to slit the mongols' throats—

Leaves rustle behind him.

Jin draws his katana, pulling on Kage's reins to make him turn around brusquely. The thumping in his shoulder and thigh makes itself known once again.

"Show yourself!" Jin demands, hiding the wince in his throat expertly.

Nothing moves. Only a golden bird hops on the ground towards him, chirping.

Sighing, Jin sheathes the katana.

This kind of paranoia will be the death of him.

With a flap of its wings, the bird takes flight, towards the forest behind him. Jin follows it with his gaze, expecting it to disappear between the trees. It doesn't.

It finds a branch, as if it wanted to make sure Jin could see, and starts chirping once again.

That gives him an idea. He would be more difficult to follow, would have the cover of trees, and would get away from the farmstead — riding into the forest sounds like a wise choice.

Jin spurs on Kage, lets the horse find his own way between the trees. The bird seems to be headed in the same direction as them.

Sleep creeps to him once more; he feels safe under the thick branches and leaves. Jin braces himself against Kage's neck, blinks slowly. Minutes pass while he loses himself in the soft rocking of the stallion's tired steps.

By the time he threatens to tip out of the saddle, Kage stops in his tracks. The bird starts chirping, causing Jin to look up.

A hot spring.

·𖥸·

After he has checked his surroundings for enemies, Jin seats himself beside the water. Although its warmth is alluring, he doesn't dare enter. It would be impossible to leave it once inside, especially in his state. Digging through his things, Jin finds some rags, which he dips inside the water.

Judging by the way his shoulder hurts, it needs care most urgently, so he starts with it. Carefully, Jin undoes and peels away the kimono from the wound, wincing when he has to readjust the position of his arm to get it off fully.

Whoever shot it was in a hurry. Only the sharp tip is stuck inside, which isn't longer than his thumb.

Gently, Jin runs the rag over the wound, wiping at the crusted blood, and watching new one flow out.

"Come on. You've had worse," he tells himself. Jin dips the rag back into the water, wrings it out, folds it, then puts it in his mouth. It's not much, but it will have to do. And it's certainly better than screaming his lungs out. Attention from enemies is the very last thing he needs.

He finds his tanto, fist tightening around the grip. The tip of the blade rests against his injured shoulder. Groans muffled by the rag, he slowly begins pushing it into the wound. New blood trickles down his arm, his ears start ringing. The wound burns.

Once Jin deems the tanto to have sunk deep enough, he takes a shaky breath.

As carefully as he can, he twists the it. The tip of the arrow isn't moving, and his vision flashes white for a second.

The ringing in his ears is getting progressively worse, he feels like he's about to throw up. His body seems hot and cold at the same time.

Panting, Jin steadies himself once more. Come on, he thinks. You've had worse. This is nothing.

He sighs, blinks, grips the tanto. The very last thing he remembers is twisting the blade once more.