KINTSUGI ⊳jin sakai x yuna

じゅうに (twelve)

"We got very lucky," Yuna says with an air of finality when Jin drops the frozen carcass beside the campfire.

And it's true. The payoff for killing that small group of mongols has been high so far: they found a half-eaten boar buried in the snow behind the house, and a pot of clean water.

"We did. Do you still have some Genmaicha tea blend?" He asks while he crouches beside the dead boar and unsheathes his tanto.

Just one look at it is enough to render him useless and make an unpleasant feeling arise in his gut.

He remembers the leaves, the blood, the lack of hesitation when he thrusted the blade forward. And he remembers the tears in his uncle's eyes, right as they exchanged their final words.

Jin clings to ration like it's the only thing that matters, tells himself that it's just his weapon. His own weapon, and nothing more.

But it is so much more. It's a reminder of the weight that rests upon his shoulders, and of his punishment; it's a reminder of his uncle.

Of what he had to do.

His stomach feels heavy with dread, and his lungs seem to tighten when he draws in a breath.

He promised his uncle that he would be remembered. How can he do that if he looms in the shadows and kills from behind? It's not his place to tell the people and the men above him who is honorable and who isn't. Not anymore. Honor a system he abandoned the moment he put poison in the mongols' milk.

And yet, he never felt as dishonorable then as he feels now.

Was even his final promise to Shimura a lie?

"I only have some left. It should be enough for the two of us tonight, but...let's hope we make it to Jogaku by tomorrow."

At the sound of her voice, he snaps out of his thoughts, blinking as he regains his composure.

"Want me to help you cut it up?" She nods at the boar, he shakes his head no. His expression must have changed, Yuna looks at him with a raised brow. "What's wrong, is the meat rotten?"

"No." He pauses. "Sorry, I was just..." Jin sighs, decides it be best if he kept silent instead, and gets to work. The meat is half frozen, much more rigid than normal, but the fine Sakai blade makes quick work of it regardless.

"Thinking?" Yuna completes his sentence, and he looks up at her with an expression of half-surprise.

"Yes." He answers quietly, and she gives him a sympathetic smile. Yuna takes the meat he has cut up into pieces and impales them with sticks she has sharpened with her knife.

Against his warm hands, the frozen blood of the carcass melts.

He wonders if Yuna knows about his uncle's death. She must have figured at least something out, that's certain, but it dawns on him that he hadn't had the courage to tell her anything.

Maybe she heard back when she'd gone to Ichi's inn? How quickly do news spread among commoners?

Even if she hadn't heard then, it's inevitable that she will. When they reach Jogaku, the others will most likely already have heard — maybe not the fact that he killed his uncle, but that his uncle is dead. The rest won't be that difficult to piece together.

Still, her finding out like that feels undoubtedly wrong. She has done so much for him, even before the Khan had died.

She has confided in him, with her past, time after time, and Jin knows that if he chooses to say something, it will be treated with just as much reverence as he treated her.