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Jul 19

Promises (4603 words) by uozlulu Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Kagurabachi (Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rokuhira Kunishige & Shiba Tougo, Azami Soushirou & Shiba Tougo, Rokuhira Chihiro & Shiba Tougo, Shiba Tougo & Soga Chiaki, Azami Soushirou & Rokuhira Kunishige & Shiba Tougo & Soga Chiaki, Rokuhira Kunishige/Soga Chiaki Characters: Shiba Tougo, Azami Soushirou, Rokuhira Chihiro, Rokuhira Kunishige, Soga Chiaki, Soga Akemura | Magatsumi Wielder, Hinao (Kagurabachi) Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Additional Warnings in Author's Note, i blame discord Series: Part 2 of Discord Inspired Collections: Shiba Suffering Sabbatical Summary: spoilers up to chapter 124 no romantic plots or subplots It's the night of Rokuhira's assassination. Shiba is stuck with tough choices and terrible memories.

You can also read the fic below

Warning(s) spoilers up through chapter 124, death, murder, food consumption, scavenging animals, cremation, canonical pregnancy Notes I think a version of this fic has been rattling through my head since I realized that Shiba ran to instead of teleported onto the Rokuhira property in the flashback to Kunishige's death. I very much would rather that Chiaki alive in canon since that would be more interesting, but for the purposes of Shiba suffering, she's dead in this fic. I'm planning to write a Chiaki lives fic from Chiaki's POV when I get the time sooner than later to make up for her always being dead in stuff. Fun fic related animal fact: Japan has no obligate scavengers.

Promises

Fifteen years ago, Shiba turned to Rokuhira as they stood in the clearing where the house and forge sat and made two arcs with his finger. “The barrier will go from that corner to this corner and then cross back over that corner and this corner. We can use the natural spiritual energy of the woods around us to keep it running at all times. No matter where I am, I’ll know instantly if someone tries to breach it and I’ll teleport there,” he gestured to a point outside of the barrier, “immediately.”

Rokuhira sighed and kept Chihiro nestled against him as the newborn slept. “But if it blocks sorcery, you can’t just teleport in.”

“But if I don’t block sorcery, then I could teleport in too late,” Shiba said and walked to a corner of the clearing where a little statuette waited for his spell. “Ideally, the barrier should be bigger, but If we make the barrier too big, then you’ll have to maintain it with your spiritual energy and that might tip someone off.”

A warm breeze fluttered through the trees. Chihiro made faint noises but he was not truly awake. Rokuhira checked on him and then sighed. “I can’t let what happened to Chiaki happen to Chihiro, Shiba. I know the Soga clan is gone, but others will take their place.”

“If anything happens, I’ll take care of it,” Shiba said. “Keeping the barrier small will make it stronger and require more spiritual energy to break it.”

Fifteen years later, Shiba stood in front of one of the tables at Hinao’s café facing the counter. Enten rested at his hip since he had no better place to put it. Azami stood between the counter and the door while Chihiro sat at the counter, his shoulders hunched and a large scar marring the side of his face. Azami tried to heal the wound without scarring, but something about the wound prevented Coin from doing anything more. It was likely a way for the Hishaku to find Chihiro later no matter how he aged.

A few hours ago, the barrier around the Rokuhira property alerted Shiba to a disturbance. He immediately teleported just outside the barrier, but by the time he arrived, the forge had exploded, Rokuhira was dead, Chihiro was shaking in shock, and the Hishaku were gone along with the original six Enchanted Blades.

Shiba opened his mouth and closed it. He should say something but nothing seemed quite right. He should have reinforced the barrier with his own spiritual energy. He should have used two barriers. He should have been faster to react to the disturbance. He should have stayed closer to the property so that the teleportation would be seconds shorter. It was difficult to believe that so much could happen in the time that it took Shiba to teleport from the city the instant that he knew there was a problem, but sorcery made so many impossible things possible.

“I have to get them back,” Chihiro finally spoke for the first time since they left the clearing, his voice hoarse around the edges. He continued to glower at his reflection in the dishes on a shelf across from him.

“Revenge doesn’t solve anything,” Azami said quietly.

“It’s not ‘revenge,’” Chihiro said, though his fingers curled into fists so tight that his knuckles turned pale as his jaw seemed to grow tenser. “I have to get the Enchanted Blades back. No one should use them. If it ends in something like ‘revenge,’ then fine. I might as well become a demon.”

“You don’t have to do anything immediately,” Azami said. “The Hishaku can’t use the Enchanted Blades as long as the sword bearers are alive and the blades sealed. The Kamunabi are putting the remaining sword bearers into protective custody as we speak. You have time to train and think this through.”

“Ibuki is dead,” Shiba said. “They can use Kuregumo.”

“They have to break the seal first,” Azami said. “That gives us at least three years according to Rokuhira’s calculations.”

“We shouldn’t wait for them to break the seal,” Shiba said. “Once they break the seal, people are going to die.”

“That doesn’t mean Chihiro has to die before that,” Azami said. “He’s fifteen.”

“You were fourteen when you joined the Sorcery Bureau,” Shiba said, “and I was still in elementary school when I joined.”

“Where else were we supposed to go? They were exploiting every orphan and displaced sorcerer that they could,” Azami said. “Name one person working with them that had a stable family or whose orphanage did not give them up immediately once they developed sorcery.”

Shiba could not, but it did not matter. “It’s better to support and supervise this now than for Chihiro to try to do this by himself secretly.”

“Chihiro hasn’t even finished middle school yet,” Azami said. “I promised Chiaki –”

“I could just take the certificate exams for middle and high school someday,” Chihiro said. “I know how to study.”

There was a long pause. Hinao appeared from the backroom and set a mug of hot tea in front of Chihiro. It smelled like citrus and spices, perfect for someone who had not eaten since breakfast.

“Thank you for the drink,” Chihiro said quietly. He picked up the mug and it shook in his hands. He sipped his tea and resumed glowering at his reflection in the dishes. It reminded Shiba too much of Akemura.

Seventeen years ago, Shiba and Akemura helped fake Chiaki’s death and then Shiba spirited her away with Rokuhira so that they could live in peace while Rokuhira finished the Enchanted Blades with Urita’s help. To maintain the illusion of death, Shiba fed prophecies from Chiaki to one of her former handmaidens who pretended to be the next princess. The war raged. The Sorcery Bureau fell. The Kamunabi took its place and Shiba and Azami became agents. One day, not long after Chihiro was born, Rokuhira and Urita had to meet with the Kamunabi about the Enchanted Blades in person to avoid revealing the location of the new forge. Shiba spirited Rokuhira to Tokyo to meet up with Urita and then returned to the property to keep an eye out for threat.

A warm summer breeze rustled through the trees when Shiba returned to the house. There were no birds chirping or signs of animals. Akemura was already there and his sword was out. “I got caught up in a battle that lasted days. The ‘princess’ died while I was away. When I returned, Giyuu-sama,” he said in a tone that showed no respect, “was gone and everyone was whispering that he went after Neesan.” He breathed the air deeply. “I smell blood.” He Wdisappeared into the woods.

Shiba closed his eyes and concentrated on the life forms living and dead around him. He disappeared and reappeared on a small path that led to another clearing where Chiaki and Rokuhira kept their garden. Chiaki laid on her side in the dirt. Chihiro was not with her. Blood oozed from her body and her fingers remained curled. Shiba slowly knelt and took her wrist, finding her skin colder than it should be and no life in her body just as his sorcery indicated. There was a single cut from an expert swordsman to her torso. It looked like Chiaki had tried to hold the wound closed as she died but it was too large and deep for that.

Noise approached from the direction that Chiaki’s body faced away from. Shiba rose and prepared for a confrontation, but it was only Akemura with Chihiro sleeping peacefully in his arms. “I …” Akemura’s voice died in his throat. His gaze fixed on Chiaki and his eyes widened. His grip on Chihiro tightened. Chihiro made a few tiny noises that sounded more like discomfort than sleeping before he began to cry.

Akemura handed Chihiro to Shiba as his eyes darkened and he glared intensely. “I’ll return,” he said in a low voice. He disappeared from view. Shiba tried not to think too much about where Akemura would go and what he would do.

The breeze rustled the trees again. Chihiro continued to cry. Chiaki’s blood pool continued to grow. A numbness settled into Shiba’s chest and spread throughout his body. He slowly moved towards a stump nearby and sat on its edge. He cradled Chihiro carefully in one arm and pulled his personal cellphone out of his pocket. He flipped it open and pushed 2 before hitting dial. It rang and rang while Chihiro continued to cry. The call went to messages. Shiba ended the call and tried again. This time Azami answered.

“I’m in the middle of –” Azami whispered and then stopped. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” Shiba said, keeping his wording deliberate vague. “Come here when you can. It’s…bad.” Bad felt like an understatement, but it was the fastest way to say it.

“Give me an hour,” Azami said. “I’ll find a way to bring him too.”

“Okay,” Shiba said. He had no choice. He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. His Kamunabi phone rang in his other pocket, but he ignored it. A kite appeared looking for carrion and he chased it away. Chihiro kept crying. He was dry. He might be hungry. He might just want one of his parents. It was hard to know. Shiba did not want to leave Chiaki’s body for anyone to steal and use for experimentation or puppetry. The sun moved through the sky. Shiba chased other animals away. It felt like an eternity until Chihiro quieted and another eternity until Rokuhira and Azami arrived. Rokuhira stopped when he saw Chiaki and his eyes widened. He did not move until Chihiro started to cry again.

Fifteen years later, Shiba looked away from Chihiro’s reflection in the dishes on the far wall. Azami put his hands in his pockets. Chihiro sipped more tea as his eyebrows drew together even more so than they already were. “We have to go back for my dad,” he said quietly. “He can’t just…stay there. I don’t want people experimenting on him.”

“The Hishaku might be there,” Shiba said. “We don’t know what they want with you yet.”

“I can take care of the pyre,” Azami said very quietly. “I’ve done it before. You should stay here, Chihiro.”

“Shiba-san should go too,” Chihiro said in almost a whisper. “Those sorcerers…” his voice trailed. His jaw became so tight that his teeth ground audibly. “I don’t want them to kill you too, Azami-san.”

Shiba opened his mouth and closed it. He was not sure if it was a good idea or a bad idea to leave Chihiro here with only Hinao. Shiba and Azami kept the Kamunabi unaware of Chihiro from the time Chiaki first told them that she was pregnant and so far, and there was no evidence that they failed. The Hishaku marked Chihiro, but that implied that they probably would look for him later instead of immediately. Shiba might be able to go without incident.

“You can stay in the back while they’re gone,” Hinao offered. “There’s also a radio upstairs. The guest room has a drawing of a chicken on it.”

Chihiro slipped off the stool slowly and picked up the mug and saucer. He followed Hinao, his glower still ever-present.

“You don’t have to go, Shiba,” Azami said quietly once Chihiro and Hino were out of earshot.

“Do you want to do it alone?” Shiba asked just as quietly.

Azami did not look away. The clock ticked nearby. Hinao offered Chihiro things that were easy to on an empty stomach in the backroom. Vehicles passed by on the street. A siren wailed in the far, far distance. “No,” Azami finally said, so quietly that Shiba almost did not hear him.

Shiba teleported them both to the courtyard on the Rokuhira property. Burnt orange light illuminated the edges of dark blue clouds as the sun finished setting. A warm breeze blew across their faces. Everything smelled of charcoal, fire, blood, and death. Kites roosted nearby. Glowing eyes stared at Shiba and Azami a long moment before tanuki fled from Rokuhira’s corpse. He no longer had a face. Shiba was not sure if that made things easier or more difficult.

As Shiba and Azami worked to assemble a pyre out of the debris from the forge and house, Shiba’s mind traveled back to fifteen years ago. Rokuhira carried Chiaki to a bench near the edge of the property that had a view of the western sky in winter. He took Chihiro from Shiba as Chihiro continued to fuss. “We’ll build the pyre here,” he said in a thin voice. “I’ll be back once Chihiro settles.” He took Chihiro in the direction of the house.

Shiba and Azami scavenged hardwood from the forest and created a fortification around Chiaki, adding old, dead leaves as fodder. Rokuhira returned with Chihiro wrapped up against his chest asleep and helped build the pyre. By the time, the sun reached the horizon, Akemura returned and helped finish the pyre. No one asked where he went or what he did.

It was well into the night when they finally lit the pyre. Shiba stood between Azami and Rokuhira. Chihiro continued to sleep. Akemura glowered at the flames from Rokuhira’s other side. They took turns tending to the fire well into daylight. They spread the ashes in different locations and fed them to the wind so it would make it difficult to create a puppet from the earth.

Fifteen years later, Shiba lit the pyre holding Rokuhira’s corpse at strategic places with his lighter. Soon, the flames overtook the structure and the body. An orange hue reflected against the trees and ruins around them. Animals called out to each other in the valley, intent on rounding up their young and leaving. The kites left their roost.

“I’m sorry,” Shiba said quietly, but Rokuhira of course could not answer.

A heaviness seemed to build in the air. Shiba and Azami fed the pyre at strategic intervals and did not speak. Crackling and popping echoed around them. Azami stoked the flames again and then stepped back. “I don’t want Chihiro to die,” he said after a while. “What was the point of everything that we’ve done since Irishima if we give him Enten and let him chase down the Hishaku? We can do that ourselves. We don’t have to involve him.”

“Chihiro might be like Akemura,” Shiba said. “He didn’t pick up a sword until he was fourteen and four years later –”

“– he murdered the entire Soga clan and all of the Mikaboshi,” Azami finished.

“– he became a skilled swordsman,” Shiba finished.

“Akemura had a proper instructor,” Azami said. “Who’s going to teach Chihiro? You? Samura-san? Urita-sensei?”

“Samura-san showed him some basics years ago,” Shiba said. “If we give Chihiro some time to get used to the sword, he’ll learn by doing like he’s learned anything else. If he gets in over his head, I can intervene.”

“And if he’s using Enten to drown everyone who’s ever wronged him in four years do we throw him in the pit with Akemura?” Azami asked.

“Chihiro wouldn’t –” Shiba began.

“And Akemura wouldn’t until he did. I want to believe that Chihiro wouldn’t, but –” Azami stopped and glanced at Rokuhira’s corpse as if deciding whatever he was about to say was too disrespectful to the dead. He ran a hand through his hair in such a way that did not expose his right eye. “Why did Rokuhira even make Enten?”

Shiba did not immediately answer as his mind drifted back to the last time that he brought Azami to the Rokuhira home over a month ago. It was the end of the spring school term and everything was hot as hell. While Azami and Chihiro reviewed tests at the kitchen table, Shiba and Rokuhira settled outside on the back porch.

“Did Chihiro tell you about the new project?” Rokuhira asked.

“The goldfish?” Shiba asked. “The bowl looks kind of small for the three of them.”

“Yeah, I promised I’d get a tank the next time I go out,” Rokuhira said. He sighed. “I’ve been thinking about how Chihiro is fifteen and he still hasn’t shown any signs of sorcery. I don’t know if that means Kurotsuchi will show up eventually or if that means he has none. So, we’re making a sword.”

“It might just meant that my barrier works a little too well,” Shiba said. “Maybe his sorcery isn’t physiological like yours so it wouldn’t be unaffected by the barrier. How can anyone discover their sorcery if it’s constantly suppressed?”

“Even Azami noticed it when he took Chihiro to Kyoto for a few days this winter,” Rokuhira said. “I just don’t want to leave Chihiro defenseless.”

At the time, Shiba did not think it was a strange sentiment, but over a month later, he had to wonder why Rokuhira said it like that. “Maybe Rokuhira knew that he was going to die,” Shiba said in barely a whisper as he continued to watch the fire consume Rokuhira’s corpse.

“Then he should have told us so we could prevent it,” Azami murmured.

The pyre crackled and snapped. The waning moon slowly rose into the sky. Shiba and Azami continued to feed the pyre strategically. Sweat rolled down Shiba’s face and back. There was no relief from the heat of the fire or the humidity of the night. Rokuhira no longer looked human but continued to burn.

“I promised Chiaki that Chihiro would go to high school,” Azami said. “I thought I was going to get to keep that promise.”

Shiba poked about the pyre with a stick, encouraging it to continue to burn. He made Chiaki a similar promise fifteen years ago.

It was spring when Shiba arrived at the house and found Chiaki sitting on the back porch with her hair down. She looked even more pregnant than the last time that he saw her when Rokuhira and Chiaki told him about the baby. Rokuhira and Chiaki both seemed nervous, but Chiaki said that she believed that things would work out, which calmed Rokuhira a little.

Chiaki smiled when she saw Shiba appear and invited him to sit with her. “Urita-sensei is here, so Kunishige is very busy, but I’m sure he’ll say hi when he can.”

Shiba settled beside her and stretched his legs out. The breeze was cool but not cold and perfumed by smoke from the forge. Blossoms swayed in the trees. Birds sang to each other.

“I had a dream this morning about the baby,” Chiaki said. “He was maybe a high schooler and he was fighting my brother. I…” her voice trailed and tears threatened. “I don’t want that. I want him to have a normal life, an absolutely devastatingly normal life. I want his biggest problem to be organizing the class project for the school cultural festival, not fighting Akemura.”

“Sometimes the prophecies change,” Shiba said.

“Usually for the worse,” Chiaki said. “The first time I dreamt about Irishima, nothing terrible happened, but the more I dreamt about it, the worse it became.” She put a hand on her abdomen and patted it gently as if to comfort the baby. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but please, help this child when you can, Tougo. He’s going to need it.”

“I will,” Shiba said. “I’m sure we’ll all go to the cultural festival together to embarrass him when the time comes.”

Yet, fifteen years later, Shiba stood beside Azami in front of Rokuhira’s pyre with Enten at his hip, the only two remaining of that “we” that Shiba mentioned back then. There would be no high school cultural festivals or devastatingly normal life. There might still be a fight with Akemura someday. Shiba was not sure how long that they had until that fight happened or what terrible events might occur to lead up to it. Shiba probably should have asked Chiaki more questions about it, but her prophecies always made her miserable.

“I had promises with Chiaki too,” Shiba said. “I want Chihiro to get strong enough to survive what’s to come, so I’ll keep watch over him and intervene if it looks like a life or death situation.”

Azami watched the pyre for a long while. “You said it in front of Rokuhira, so we’re both going to hold you to that.”

The pyre continued to burn. For a moment, the heaviness in the air increased and Shiba could almost feel Rokuhira standing beside him like he did at Chiaki’s pyre. Shiba planned to keep his word anyway. He did not want to stand in front of Chihiro’s pyre someday or for Chihiro to stand at his so soon either.

“I can fix the house and the forge,” Azami said. “I know some people who will be discreet and not ask questions. When Chihiro is ready to return here, he shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“If he wants to return,” Shiba murmured.

“Probably not immediately,” Azami said, “but he should have the option.” He looked up at the moon and then at Shiba. “You should go. I can finish here.”

Rokuhira’s corpse continued to deteriorate. The moon continued to rise higher into the sky. Thin clouds appeared on the horizon, obscuring a few stars. Shiba should stay and help spread the ashes so that no one could collect them, but he should go and make sure that Chihiro was safe. He wanted to see Rokuhira off, but Rokuhira and Chiaki needed him to help Chihiro. He sighed and bid Azami goodbye before disappearing into the night.

Shiba reappeared in the café. The lights were off and the stools turned upside down. There was a faint light in the backroom. Chihiro stood in the open space, swinging a broom in the same way that Samura showed him how to swing a sword years ago. The exercises were simple forms that the Soga clan used to practice. Samura said that the first step to learning the Iai White Purity Style was to understand how to move the sword.

Shiba slid the door shut so that the light would not be evident from the storefront. Chihiro continued to swing the broom, his movements awkward but steady compared to the swordsmen that Shiba used to watch warming up at the Soga compound. Shiba was not sure how to explain to Chihiro that his stance was awkward let alone figure out how Chihiro could improve it, so he let Chihiro practice uninterrupted since there was no point in sleep on a night like this until exhaustion won anyway.

After a while, Chihiro’s movements began to slow. He lowered the broom and his breath seemed to rattle his entire body. His attention turned to Shiba as if he only just realized that he was in the room. “Hinao-san went to bed a while ago.”

“Are you tired?” Shiba asked.

Chihiro did not answer. He put the broom away and then turned to face Shiba, his eyes fixing on Enten. “I should wear Enten. It can help me recover the Blades.”

“Then we should make a deal,” Shiba said. “If you want to walk this path, it will be your responsibility. I can assist with reconnaissance and leads, but any fights you get into will be yours to get out of unless it becomes life and death. If I have to intervene, you will follow my instructions without argument, alright?”

“Alright,” Chihiro said and his gaze was so intense that Shiba could believe he would honor that promise.

A heaviness settled into the room. Shiba removed Enten from his hip and handed it to Chihiro. Chihiro secured the Enchanted Blade to his hip and drew it from its sheath. Sorcery filled the room. Three goldfish swam through the air and then dematerialized as if Enten was always meant for a teenager to wield it like some sort of magical girl in an anime from Shiba’s youth. Chihiro returned Enten to its sheath. It did not appear out of place at his side like it probably should. His lips remained in a frown and he looked away. When his gaze returned to Shiba, Shiba found himself thinking about Akemura’s glower at Chiaki’s pyre again. Shiba tried to push those memories aside again.

“We can look for a place to train in the morning,” Chihiro said, finally conceding to exhaustion.

They headed upstairs where there was a doodle of a chicken on a post-it note waiting for them on the guest room door.

Even after Chihiro fell asleep, Shiba could not sleep as his mind wandered to thirty years ago. Shiba became a ward of the Sorcery Bureau soon after entering elementary school and they sent him to their branch in the Soga clan’s territory. Reluctant to return to the dorms after an errand to the post office, Shiba wandered the streets. Eventually he stopped in front of a store with televisions in the window. Bright colorful images filled the screens until slowly one by one, the televisions’ signals started to warp and turn to static the more that Shiba stared at them.

“They’ll get mad if you break the TVs,” Rokuhira said from a nearby bench. He had a bag beside him and an open chocolate bar in his hand. “TVs aren’t like the radio, they pick up on spiritual energy and it shorts them out.”

“I’m not going to break them,” Shiba said.

“Your spiritual energy will if you can’t control it,” Rokuhira said.

Shiba’s eyes narrowed. He was not sure if he wanted to believe that or not.

Rokuhira broke some of the pieces off his cholate bar. “Want some?”

“Yeah.” Shiba sat beside him. The chocolate was sweet, smooth, and immediately began melting in his mouth.

Suddenly all the televisions stopped making noise simultaneously. Rokuhira shoved the rest of his chocolate bar in his mouth, slid off the bench, grabbed Shiba’s hand, and pulled him away. They were well down the street before the owner emerged from the store looking for signs of the culprit who short-circuited his merchandise. Shiba and Rokuhira did not stop running until they were in sight of the playground.

“And we’re saf –” Rokuhira said then the color drained from his face. “I forgot my bag. My grandma’s going to kill me.”

“This bag?” Shiba asked and held it up for Rokuhira to see. He managed to grab it before they left the bench.

Rokuhira’s face brightened. He took the bag gratefully, but before he could leave for home, voices called out to him. Chiaki and Azami were already playing with a kickball at the playground. Rokuhira invited Shiba to join them. The four of them always made time for each other every day after that for the next several years.

Thirty years later, Shiba sat at the desk in the guest bedroom at the café. The heaviness in the air weighed on his chest. He swallowed and tears came to his eyes. His breath shook his shoulders, but he made no sound. He rested his elbows on the desk, interlocked his fingers, and bowed his head. Rokuhira was dead and Shiba needed a plan. He could not think. He could not sleep. He did not know what would happen in the morning. He needed to figure that out or there would be a pyre for Chihiro sooner than later. Shiba tried to push the heaviness in the air aside and focus. His brain reluctantly complied. There was no other choice.

The End

#shibasuffer #kagurabachi fanfics #fic rec

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