The samurai walked upon the stones, and his passing stirred the fallen blossoms to the wind. No matter the care with which he tread, he could not leave the path unchanged in his wake.
When feeling returned it was to the ears before all other things. Rahai heard before he could see, heard before he could move. His body would not obey his command in the long hours of half-wakefulness, but his existence, finally, was proven to be something rather than nothing.
Where was Leareux?
He could have done without any further sensation, but had little choice in the matter. The viera did not know what state he was in, only that every breath was needle sharp in his chest. Time was abstract in this state. He heard someone mention fetching breakfast, and the next thing he knew another voice suggested turning in for the night.
How long had it been?
Further awareness came with an understanding of his surroundings. Soft. Snow? No, no, too warm. A bed. Much too big for a viera of his size, but such things didn’t surprise him here.
Here.
Coerthas, that was where he ought to be.
Someone mentioned the sun being just past its peak.
Where was Leareux? He was the last memory, the last understanding. What came before that?
Wailing.
Fire.
Teeth.
The next time he heard a voice wishing another good morning, Rahai managed to force his eyes open. Inside a building, stones above and around, but the dawn light filtering through the window made everything softer than it ought to be.
The pain was a constant, but not so sharp as it had seemed only moments past to him. There was a familiar dullness to it all. Healing beyond a physical kind, something aetheric. Perhaps there were menders here. Chirurgeons, weren’t they? That’s what they called themselves in Ishgard if he recalled Leareux’s teachings on his homeland.
He could finally move, so he did, pushing himself to be propped against the pillows they’d seen fit to give him. Even pillows were too big, here. It was a sore sort of relief to be able to stretch and feel again, to know more than absolute stillness. The tight wrap of bandaging somewhat restrained his movement, a thing he hadn’t had the awareness to notice until now.
A shadow passed before him. There stood an elezen woman, a silhouette between him and the window, and she placed a hand upon his shoulder, which halted him from any further movement. “That’s quite enough, I should think,” she said. That hand was firm, but her tone was a gentle thing, easing his eyes up to her face.
As his sight adjusted to the brightness behind her, he could see the change in her expression, that glimpse of unease. His eyes did sometimes inspire such looks.
White, piercing, they could be unsettling when they were unexpected. To her credit, she recovered swiftly, and spoke again. “You’ll need a few suns’ more rest before you may leave I fear. It would be unwise to move more than you have.”
“Wh-where — ” Difficult to speak. His throat was dry and it made his chest ache, but he continued. “There was… there was an elezen with me, where is he?”
“The other survivor that was with you is resting over there,” she replied, and her words had the gentle calm about them of one who was trying to be comforting. That tone prickled at the hair on the back of his neck. “We found you both behind the gates. Thank the Fury too, the Dravanian’s must not have spotted you there if you made it to shelter.”
The viera never made it to shelter, not on his own.
White eyes settled on the survivor, but the light was too stark from the window and that bed was across the room. Rahai squinted. It had to be Leareux. Had to be.
Even if every disbelieving thought told him that his mentor had to have made it out of there, his only recognition for the elezen was in having seen him once before. That was the face of the soldier on the bridge, the one he’d dragged to safety. No amount of will could change what he saw with his own eyes.
That was not Leareux. It wasn’t. Leareux wasn’t here, not in this room, and unease turned to dread in the pit of his stomach.
“Where are you keeping the dead? The bodies. I must see them.”
The woman shook her head, concern knitting her brow. “It has been six suns already, most have been buried. I am sorry, truly, but you would not be able to see them even if you were in any state to leave.”
His mentor.
His friend.
The woman lingered, but when Rahai did not speak again, she stepped away. “I’ll bring you a meal, you must eat,” she offered, but did not seem to expect a response from him. It was not the first time she’d seen such a look.
Only when she was gone did he cover his face, and it was the first and last time anyone wept for Leareux Gretienne.
Gridania, busy as ever, proved lucrative for a wandering samurai. Leareux took jobs when he found them, guarding caravans and talking folk into paying their debts, seldom having need of a blade for either. In matters of people, he found violence to be a last resort, and of the least benefit to the parties involved.
Leaving the market at dusk, a flash of grey caught his eyes as a child passed by him, and something about the movement seemed off. Had he just bumped into that display of fruits? This tiny viera didn’t otherwise move clumsily, but Leareux could have sworn he’d just witnessed some sleight of hand.
So the samurai turned to follow. This boy seemed ordinary, perhaps in his early teens, and he had a stick carved into a sharp point hanging off his belt. A belt he’d fashioned from leather scraps, it looked like. What a shabby little swordsman.
Minutes passed, and again he spotted the child in what was a fairly elegant theft. The viera turned his back to a merchant’s stall when two adults passed by, and with hands behind his back, the child plucked a bit of dried meat from the display without anyone being the wiser.
Leareux couldn’t help but be a little impressed.
For the third theft, the child had stopped near a bread stand, and his reach was met by a slap on his wrist with the flat edge of a katana.
“Tch!” The viera whirled to stare down this would-be defender of the law with naught but defiance in his eyes. Big, moon-bright eyes. The elezen was somewhat taken aback by them, but only for a moment.
Leareux couldn’t help something of a smile, an amused one. “Scurrying about and thieving, little rat?”
“You can’t call a viera a rat, that’s rude.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be a thieving rat then.”
The child stood up a little straighter, but this only served to highlight just how diminutive he was even at his full height. Now that Leareux had a better look, this one did appear rather skinny.
Rahai crossed his arms, and stepped forward in spite of being faced with a drawn weapon. When he spoke, he kept his voice low. “Listen, I only take what I need. What kind of sword is that anyway, a butter sword?”
The elezen laughed. “A katana, as it happens. But verily it would slice a thief’s hand as readily as butter.”
The child was not swayed. No, if anything he looked even more indignant. “Then go find someone who deserves that. I’m not a thief, I’m just hungry.”
A group of merchants passed, and Leareux was forced to step aside to be out of the way. Nodding toward them, he turned his attention back to the viera, only to find he’d vanished. Not much slipped past the elezen’s attention like that. So of course, he was compelled to follow.
Rahai likely thought himself safe when he made it out of the city and back to the old shack he’d picked for a home. Well, not the shack itself, the ant-chewed wood was falling to pieces, but the cellar behind it was in great condition. Animals couldn’t get in either, what with how heavy the doors were. Rahai could barely get in himself.
Rounding the corner, he was already pulling out a stolen bit of bread to eat when he nearly walked face first into the elezen from the market, and this time it outright scared the child. He was left to take a few steps back, wide-eyed and ready to run if he needed to. But the elezen only crouched and pointed over his shoulder at the cellar door.
“You live there?”
The viera did not answer. What was this man, some sort of guard? He’d evaded them this long, he wasn’t about to give up any information.
But the elezen shook his head. “I did not believe you, not at first. Children steal for their own entertainment at times, and I thought to warn you away. However.” Leareux stroked his beard, regarding Rahai with a look the viera had never been given before. Acknowledgement, that was certainly new.
Rahai stuffed the bread back in his pocket, and he crossed his arms. The viera’s eyebrows furrowed, irritation and uncertainty keeping him on edge. “Just don’t tell the guards, please. I haven’t gotten caught yet.”
“No, no, I’ll not tell a soul.” The elezen still looked thoughtful. Finally he stood up. “You are clever, little rat. Too clever to live like this. Have you ever wanted to learn how to fight?”
The viera looked down, lips pressed into a line. “Yeah,” he eventually admitted, though he needn’t say a word for Leareux to know this already, given the makeshift weapon at his side.
“Would you fancy learning how to make coin for yourself? Not having to steal to eat?”
“That’s a stupid question, sir.”
The elezen laughed. Rahai was still wary, but the stranger’s friendliness was disarming, and he found himself smiling too. Leareux stood up then, and nodded, seemingly more to himself than to the viera. “I would teach you, should you be willing. And someday you may earn enough to pay back what you’ve stolen.”
“What do you get out of it? You’re not going to sell me off, are you?”
Leareux gave him a grin. “Not at all. Should I gain anything from mentoring you, little thief, it’ll be company in our travels.”
Rahai did think on it, but ultimately he was quick to nod. This was the first stranger who hadn’t either ignored him or looked at him with pity. And the elezen wasn’t offering charity either. Rahai hated charity.
It was the last time he saw that shack and the cellar he’d lived in, and he couldn’t be happier to leave, even as he schemed on how to steal all this man’s money in his sleep.
The viera could not know that he would see this elezen as family, someday.
Suns turned to moons, and soon he couldn’t count all the moons that had passed. Ishgard was in a state of disarray following the battle on the Steps, in more than one regard, but prospects looked positive overall. An end to a war that seemed endless had come to the people here, and though Leareux had always spoken on it, Rahai now truly understood. These people had lived so long in conflict, but there was a joy to their faces now that they were free of it.
The samurai hadn’t ended up in any kind of fighting condition, but as he recovered he managed to work here and there. In exchange for labor he was afforded a room at an inn, and he spent his days seeking out projects that needed extra hands. The people here needed to rebuild, in both literal and figurative fashion.
Leaving Ishgard was his priority in the earlier days, but the longer he stayed, the more he grew to appreciate the city. Even as a samurai, he could take a rest from any work with a blade for a while. It would always be there for him, when he should have a need and purpose for it again.
On one annoyingly sunny morning, there came a knock at the door of his inn room, and the viera put on his best not-groggy face as he went to answer. Mornings were a curse, truly.
“Yes?”
There stood an elezen soldier, who blinked a few times as they made eye contact with each other, before clearing her throat. “Yes, good morning. You’re Rahai Renhare, are you not?”
“I am.” Interesting. Not many came calling for him, and he leaned against the doorway. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a delivery from Camp Dragonhead for you.” She stopped, looking away in some manner that seemed almost sheepish. “I mean, not officially. It’s from the guards.”
That had the viera’s interest. She handed over a small box, and he took it with a confused look at her. Confused until he opened it, anyhow. When he opened the lid, immediate recognition came as he laid eyes on the soul crystal, placed with dignity upon a black cloth to keep it safe. Once, it belonged to Leareux.
Even in death, the old man was still insisting on him taking that crystal. He’d all but forgotten it in these past moons. Perhaps Rahai would still bring it back to Kugane, but there was no harm in keeping it safe until that day came.
The elezen cleared her throat again, and she stepped aside to show three more guards behind her, all looking on. “He was a great cook for us, real great, and he was so friendly to us. Whenever we talked about our children, he’d always mention you.”
Rahai stared up at her for that comment, and it was only by squeezing the box tight in his fingers that he managed to avoid betraying any feeling at all. The sentiment was unexpected, and it was terribly kind of her to say.
“And, well, I’m sorry we couldn’t bring everything,” she continued, “but we snuck this out before they could start going through his things. We wanted you to have it before anyone could sell it off.”
“I… I really can’t thank you enough,” he said, and he closed the box and held it close. Like that he stood a while, before he looked up to her and those others she had with her. “Will you be around a while?”
“We planned to stay the night.”
“Then let’s have a round this evening. I’d like to hear more of his time with you, if you’d be so kind.” He paused. “I’ll buy.”
The guards behind her murmured some enthusiastic agreement about this, and the Elezen speaking with him bowed with a smile. “We’d like that.”
When they parted, Rahai was left to look upon the crystal again. Even in all this time, he’d never felt closure until here and now, and he’d never known that even peace could be a painful thing. Leareux’s teachings and memories lie there in that crystal, and as much as it gave Rahai something to hold to, it also had a feeling of finality to it.
But the old man always said that where the river ends, the sea begins. Perhaps this ending would be a beginning, too.