KINTSUGI ⊳jin sakai x yuna

さん (three)

His hands are bound behind his back, he feels powerless. No matter how much he tugs at it, the rope around his wrists is unmoved.

"Kill him, and you can go."

Jin recognizes that voice. Khotun Khan.

A cold tremor runs down his back, he looks up, trying to spot the khan, but is met with a much more familiar sight.

Taka stands in front of him, a katana in both hands, the slightest of tremors going through his arms. It's visible in the way the blade sways back and forth when he steps towards Jin.

Run, Jin wants to tell him, but his lips don't move. His body refuses to cooperate. When he's not more then a meter away, Taka's fearful expression becomes filled with rage. Without making a sound, he thrusts the blade forward.

Jin can't scream. He just watches the blade sink into his own torso, between his chest and stomach. The pain burns, it feels so immense that it somehow turns numb.

He doesn't know why, but he can still breathe.

Taka lets go of the sword. His hands are shaking.

"This, Lord Sakai, is how much you mean to them now." The khan says, stepping forward. He sets his hand on top of Taka's head, almost like a father that wants to console his son. Then with the sound of bones cracking, Taka's body drops to the ground. Only his head remains in the Khan's hand.

"How much more does it take," the Khan asks, stepping forward, "until you understand that fighting fire with fire only leaves more ashes behind?"

He holds Taka's head in front of him, so close that Jin can feel the blood dripping out of it on his own skin.

And then he drops it. The second it meets the ground, Taka's face becomes unrecognizable, yet turns into something much more familiar. Lord Shimura's head lays at his feet.

"Their blood is on your hands."

A hand grabs a hold of his right shoulder, and suddenly, he can move.

Heaving, Jin bolts up, immediately regretting it. His head is spinning, his throat feels like sandpaper.

In front of him is another sight that has him sure he's dreaming.

Bathed in the pink, early morning light, some untamed strands of hair framing her face, she looks unusually sad.

"Yuna...?"

She's kneeling beside the improvised bed of rags he lays on. Her hand hovers above his uninjured shoulder, held back by his grip on her forearm. Upon realizing just how tightly his fist is wound around her arm, he lets go. Guilt settles in his stomach when he notices the red marks his fingers have left on her skin.

He can feel his wounds burn. The slash on his thigh and the injury on his shoulder especially.

"Yes." She confirms, moving to sit beside him cross-leggedly. "I really thought you weren't going to wake up this time." A poignant pause follows, Jin doesn't know what to say. Words are difficult to get a hold of when his head is ringing. "How are you feeling?" Yuna asks.

How is he feeling? He'll be damned if he knows.

His emotions are hard to identify, but it feels like every sentiment he dreads is weighing down on him. He doesn't want to lie, but doesn't think his state is worth explaining. Not now. He doesn't think he has enough energy to put it all into words.

"I'm alive." He states the truth plainly. His voice sounds raspy, somehow just as dry as his throat feels. Yuna looks at him with an amused, somehow relieved glint in her eyes. She rises to her feet. "Do you have water?" Jin asks, though he quickly notices that his question was unnecessary.