( fallen leader | @devolusion )
An example, the general said. An example. Even now, Kokomi thinks its cruel, wonders if, hours prior, she would have thought of it as the torture Kujou Sara claims to detest. An example. What would break an army more effectively than the loss of its leader?
She may as well be dead, she supposes. She must be, the way — the way Gorou’s face twists when he finds her, finally, in the shack she’d managed to drag herself to after her captors released her. She must be, the way Gorou’s face goes panicked and horrified, seeing her battered and beaten and bleeding form. She tries a smile, a faint thing that shows the blood in her teeth, and wonders that she remembers him at all, even hazily. Perhaps her ambition was too vague to result in such specific losses. To protect them all, after all, is a wide wish. Though, abruptly, she can’t remember what seemed so worth protecting.
Gorou is by her side in an instant, but it isn’t until her hand raises and presses gently to her own chest — her throat is dry, and she feels too fragile, just this moment, to speak — that he realizes that there place where he Vision once lied now sits empty.
An example. What would break an army more effectively than the loss of its leader? THE GUTTING OF ITS LEADER.
“I...apologize, Gorou,” she says, voice soft, and even now she means it. She may not remember what was worth protecting in the smiles of her people or in the smiles of HIM. But she knows she is sorry. ( from devolusion :) )
HE KNEW HER SCENT. it had been near him on the battlefield, across from him during meager meals & feasts alike, & beside him at both his best & his worst. he was sure they could separate for years and the scent would remain familiar to his nose. it was so familiar, that he froze the moment he caught it, carried on the wind during their search ( what number search, he didn’t know–––– he had long lost count, yet refused to show his weariness at the thought in any capacity ). in an instant, he was turning, a hurried shout of ❝ this way! ❞ called to the troops that had joined him in what was almost a second thought. he would have gone alone had it been needed, he would not risk the scent fading & losing her trail forever. it had only been the thought that she may have still been in the hands of the enemy that had made him call.
EVEN WITH THEM TRAILING BEHIND, he was faster than his soldiers. his natural reflexes combined with the desperation in his gait ensured that he stayed a fair distance in front of them. it was a struggle. the parts of him that wanted to linger to allow them to follow easily & the parts of him that wanted to rush to her excellency’s side & leave them behind were constantly at war.
& THEN, he caught the scent of blood.
HE DIDN’T HAVE TO STOP TO KNOW WHO IT BELONGED TO. her scent was wrapped in it, woven into it, & the thought of what may have caused it pushed him faster. he all but rammed his body into the door to the shack, ignoring the vibrating ache that rumbled through his bones. he thought he was prepared for anything ( he was expecting an enemy, a foe, something to bare his teeth at, something to sink his claws into ), but he wasn’t prepared for what awaited him.
HURT & BLEEDING SHE SAT THERE, & he wouldn’t stop the way his face dropped, his expression twisted, his heartbeat increased to the point he was expecting it to fly out of his chest. there was an emptiness to her eyes that he was almost afraid to name, & it concerned him more than the wounds on her skin & the blood streaking against her teeth. it wasn’t until her hand rose to press against her chest that he could no longer ignore what was right in front of him, & his knees buckled as he leaned towards her, his hands catching & scraping against the ground.
❝ kokomi! ❞
HER NAME TORE FROM HIS THROAT, titles & formalities forgotten in the face of his grief. the moment he took to compose himself was enough time for the others to catch up with him, their cries of ‘your excellency’ & ‘you found her’ awoke a protectiveness that he wasn’t expecting, & he snarled at their attempt to approach.
❝ don’t touch her. ❞
A DAY AGO, he never would have dreamed of growling at his own troops ( & later he would hope that they knew it came form a place of protectiveness & fear, not anger ), but for her safety he would challenge the strongest foe, go against the highest order.
HE REACHED FOR HER SLOWLY, giving her the chance to tell him to stop ( would she? could she? what did she feel? what did she remember? ), but she didn’t. still he made sure to be gentle, to keep her as comfortable as possible as he lifted her into his arms. they couldn’t keep her here, it was no place to heal, no place to deal with the struggle of a sudden lack he had been told came with losing a vision. he could do little else, but he could certainly ensure her comfort.
HER VOICE WAS ALMOST LOUD AMONG HIS STEPS, quieter than usual, & he couldn’t stop the way he watched her, his expression showing his shock at her words.
❝ why are you apologizing? ❞
EVEN IN HIS SURPRISE, he kept his tone gentle–––– her comfort above all else. there was a sense of laughter among his words, though lacking humor. even like this, there was no hiding her nature.
❝ i should be apologizing to you. i’m supposed to look out for you–––– to keep you safe. ❞
& HE HADN’T DONE THAT. she’d paid the price for it. a price just short of her own life. it wouldn’t stay that way. that he vowed.
❝ don’t worry, okay? we’re gonna get you patched up, & then i’m going to get your vision back. ❞
HE WOULD. he swore it. no matter the cost.












