#gorou oneshot

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

Gorou x gn!reader- Day 9

Summary- Cuddles and stories on the couch with your puppy general

T/W- scars, mentions of battle

Flufftober 2024

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"You're such a cute puppy Gorou."

"I am not a puppy!" He complained, as his tail was wagging with his head in your lap.

"Sure your not."

He could only huff at your persistence at calling him a puppy. Despite the conversation, he was quiet enjoying you running his hands through his hair and rubbing his back. Your hands traced gently over the scars that lined his back. Almost like constalations.

"How'd you get this one?" You ran your hands over the rather larger scar.

"The big one?" You nodded, still fixed on hiw it ran across most of his back. "Well, it was in a battle. My first battle as a general. I turned my back for a second, a mistake and was slashed across the back."

You winced at the thought of that, you started to feel protective over the man. As your hand reached up into his hair again, you looked down and saw that his eyes were staring to drop. A few minutes later he was realising little snores.

[constellarations]

blood is red, but so is my heart

gorou soulmate au!! secret santa gift for @haliya-mori , i apologize in advance for the lack of quality... ;;

pairing: gorou x gn!reader

warnings: gore, violence (war), implied death, archon story spoilers? (the resistance), mc has a cryo vision, mentions of blood

notes: eifjiejfiejrigjeifjs

soulmate au: when you make eye contact with your soulmate, your vision bursts with color.

“I-It’s cold…”

“I know.” Gorou’s ears flick, gritting his fanged teeth. But we must keep going. For our freedom. For Her Excellency. His troops are trailing behind him, they trust him, they trust me.

But I do not trust myself. The general looks back, they are shivering, his people are shivering. The world is dull, and the air reeks of carnage. This is war. The war between mortality and immortality, between humans and eternity. I will breach the barrier. He growls. I will breach it, until it no longer exists.

Why must his soldiers suffer the wrath of an archon? The wind carries the scent of rain, and Gorou immediately turns out. His comrades are first — always. No matter what.

“Seek shelter! There is a storm incoming!” Two storms. One made of rain and thunder, the other made of weapons and people.

They scramble. Gorou knows each and every one of their names, their hometowns — if it was not in the Sangonomiya territory. He knows, and he carries their will, their future.

“General Gorou!” One of them, Teppei, exclaims. He is new, it is obvious in his fear-stricken eyes and shaky handling of his spear. “Shall we build a fire?”

The general’s — colored eyes, flicker over to the clouds. They smell earthy, freshly, dangerously.

“Only build a small fire, but put it out after you get warmed up.” He feels his tail swishing slowly. “If it burns for too long, the enemy will be able to see the smoke.”

“Yes, sir!” Teppei salutes, before running back. Gorou sighs, overlooking his men before sitting down, lacing his fingers together as he hunches over.

The grass is… nothing. Gorou has heard that it’s a color called “green”, but he has never seen such a hue. His world is dull. Why would there be vibrancy in war, anyway? The blood of his fallen comrades is the same color as water, he cannot tell the difference, even though he should, he should.

Where are you? He has long given up on looking for his soulmate, at least, after the war started. He doesn’t remember life before the war, he doesn’t want to. Peace will never come for a warrior, only silence. The yells of his soldiers, the clanging of metal, it all resounds in his dreams. An endless timpani drum, a gong to reality.

I want to see color. Gorou has heard from his lucky men that his eyes are a brilliant shade of blue. What is blue? He brushes his hand over the grass. It is nothing, his hand is nothing. He is nothing in the midst of a cyclone.

I want to see you. He wonders what his soulmate is like. Are they nice? They better be — Gorou wouldn’t be able to stand someone who is mean to his men. His ears subconsciously flick, and the hairs on his neck and tail rise.

The storm is here. He feels it. The thunder of the Earth is here, and the thunder of the Shogun is yet to come. I’m sure they’ll attack during the rain. He stands up. That’s just how Kujou Sara is.

“Do not lower your guard!” He announces, hands on his hips. His… ‘blue’ eyes flicker over to the campfire that has been lit. “Warm yourselves up. We have a war to fight!”

—

“Are you sure this is it?” Asks [Name], who is, playing Tic-Tac-Toe by themselves on the beach’s sand. This is totally anticlimactic! They glance up. Where’s the battling? The excitement?

“I assure you, this is where the map marks.” Their companion, Kaedehara Kazuha, is too used to their antics to say anything. “Stay vigilant, [Name]. We do not know when they will strike.”

“Okay.” [Name] stood up, stretching their arms.

Kazuha took a deep breath. This was the part where [Name] would sa—

“Soo… where’s the battle?”

He closed his eyes, mentally applauding himself. “Soon. This is where the resistance and the Shogun’s army will meet up. We are just here in advance. You should not rush the rotation of the Earth, [Name].”

[Name] sat back down again, continuing their one-man game of Tic-Tac-Toe.

Kazuha, too, has never seen color before. If he did, his haikus would be filled with the descriptions of colors for decades. [Name] shivers. I’m glad he hasn’t, honestly.

The two wanderers were content with not being able to see color. The world was still beautiful, even if it was simply black and white (that’s what Beidou described it as. Lucky captain met her soulmate in Liyue).

“Bummer.” [Name] grins, sparing a glance towards the man before ushering him over to where they sat in the sand.

“Wanna play Tic-Tac-Toe with me?”

—

The sound of the soggy sand was not very pleasing.

Gorou ran quickly through the barraging thunder, his men following suit. This is where Kazuha should be. His ears twist and turn to their greatest lengths, trying to distinguish something beyond the rain. His vision… his eyes, are of no use to him. They see, but cannot pick up each individual color. Everything is a shape, there is no beauty.

This war is essential. Every battle, every inch of land, it will be accounted for in the factor towards victory or defeat. Her Excellency has a section prepared for this. He opens a small notebook mid-run. Passage 52: Beach Terrain.

Keep a supply of fresh water near. Do not cross the river to meet your enemy, wait for half of their army to get across before launching an attack. Gorou hastily shields the pages with his hand. Water fills every crevice of the world. He manages to squeeze in the last line before closing the book.

The difference between life and death is between freshwater and saltwater sources. Gorou averts his eyes from the ocean. Great. Gorou remembers much of Her Excellency’s writings, but they all seem to leave his mind when in the midst of a battle.

Kazuha. He continues his search, there are people in the distance. It’s the Shogun’s army.

“Prepare to fight!” He yells, his throat no longer hurts, he is running on adrenaline while he is running with his feet. Where is he? Where is the other person he said he’d bring? Every vision counts, every man does too. They all matter to him, anyway.

The world is dull. Gorou takes out his bow, flaring his nose slightly. I must prepare for the scent of blood. He raises his weapon as some of his men charge forward. One eye closes, and he hones in on the distant figures.

This is war. The general subconsciously bares his teeth. They are sharp, but he cannot bite. Today, I might die.

—

“They have arrived. Prepare your will and your weapon.” Kazuha stands up, unsheathing his sword. [Name] follows, albeit, too lax for the wanderer’s liking.

“Are you going to take out your spear?”

[Name] grins. “Yep.”

Kazuha’s irises flicker to the vision on their neck. It has a cryo emblem screwed onto it, far below the transparent exterior. It’s supposed to be blue. He wonders what color his own vision was.

“Goodbye, Kazuha,” they say, seriously. They are serious — he is, too. This is life or death, one of them may not be returning to this same shore. This Tic-Tac-Toe shore.

“Goodbye, [Name]. See you soon,” he adds. He adds the ‘see you soon’ part in order to reassure his own mind. ‘I will be back’ he tells himself—but will he? He hopes so. This life is far too gorgeous to stop living.

“Of course.” [Name] does a two-fingered salute. They’re smiling, but it doesn’t reach their eyes. The samurai contemplates whether or not he’ll ever be able to see its color.

—

There are cries, and yells, and screams. Gorou knows these sounds, he’s far too attuned to them for his liking. This is for freedom. He repeats over and over, freedom, freedom. His muscle-memory does everything for him. Arrows are fired, his vision charges. We will win. It is not false hope. It is the truth.

Wisps of wind brush through his ears. Kazuha? There’s also something cold. He hopes that the source is on the resistance’s side, and not the Shogun’s. The smell of blood is back, but he cannot see it. It’s water. It’s water. Blood is not red, like the elderly couples say, blood is nothing.

Everything goes by so slowly yet so quickly. His men writhe in agony, but so do the Shogun’s. Stay alive. Stay alive, he chants to no archon. There is no archon left for him. Stay alive so you too can see color! He notices that boy — Teppei, on the ground. He’s clutching his side, but he’s still putting up a fight with his spear high in the air.

He’s a warrior. They all are. Not anybody can fight in a war, not anybody can keep doing it after one battle. These men are all exceptional. He glances over and notices a stranger. They wield a spear and seem to be freezing some of the Shogunate soldiers. You, who are you?

As if they could sense his stare, they looked back up at him.

Everything exploded. Nothing became everything, his world was no longer dull. The general stumbled back, eyes wide — were they blue?! He darted around anxiously, bow still firing as he aimlessly stared at his enemies.

They wore … uniforms. The uniforms were something — they were no longer nothing. What color was this? He glances up at the sky. He’s heard the sky was blue, but right now, he hopes that blue is not the color of those clouds. They are dull and dark.

The clouds were the color his world was, before he saw them. Who are they? He glances back, they’re gone. Of course. He grits his teeth. This is war.

Stay alive — you! His tail swishes back and forth, his ears flickering back and forth uncontrollably. A growl escapes his throat, and his canines finally bite. It reeks. The Shogunate soldiers are retreating, they do not have Kujou Sara with them today. He curls his fingers. That is probably why they are running.

“General Gorou!” A familiar voice yells. They are all familiar, for they are all his men. The general is too lost in his thoughts, examining each and every one of his soldiers with the widest smile imaginable. His canines are showing, his tail wagging. This is embarrassing. But it is them, these are his troops.

“They have retreated!” His throat still does not hurt. His adrenaline has yet to wear off. “We will stand guard here for a few days before returning to the shrine!”

“Yes, sir!”

—

“[Name].” Kazuha deadpanned for the nth time today. The said individual was busy admiring themselves in the pond, tracing their finger through their cheeks and lips.

“Kazuha.” [Name] stands up. “What color are my eyes?”

He blinks once, then twice. “Surely you are not asking me such a question?”

“But I am?”

“[Name], I have yet to experience color.” He strikes a ghost of a grin. “Surely you haven’t forgotten life for us lowly ones at the bottom?”

“Hey! I did not!” Their accused expression morphs into a strict one. “I’m just so very… colorful.”

They grinned, and Kazuha resisted the urge to turn around and walk away.

“Haha.”

“I know, wasn’t that so funny?”

—

Gorou wove through the crowds of his soldiers. His eyes were so fixated on the blades of grass, and the speckles of rain. I can see blood. He shivers, red was a ferocious color, but it was devastatingly beautiful.

He remembers their face, and the cryo vision on their neck. [Surname] [Name]. His tail is, regrettably, wagging passionately.

“Gorou.” A wisp of the wind tickles his ear. He turns around, and there is Kazuha. He’s calm, and his clothes are red, but it is not devastating. He is the crimson side of peace, the opposite of blood.

“Kazuha! It’s good to see you!”

The general instantly notices that same person from before, [Name]. It’s [Name], it’s them, the person who brought his dull world color. It’s beautiful. They’re beautiful. He examines them closely. He’s lucky.

“Oh, it’s Mr. Soulmate.” They hold their hand out, and Gorou gazes at it in confusion.

“A handshake. You grab my hand and shake it lightly,” they explain, waiting for his own callused hands to meet theirs.

He nods stiffly, holding his own hand out. I’m sweating— AH! I’M SWEATING!

Gorou quickly wipes his hand on his leg before grabbing onto [Name]’s palm. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Gorou!”

—

[Name] is many things. Gorou has only known them for a few days, but he knows that, as fate had planned, they are the one.

War is inevitable. The general doesn’t like war, even though his occupation relies on it. He longs for a day where he can simply reside in the countryside with a fishing rod and sunhat, throwing bait into the ocean instead of his arrows.

“Is there a reason why you’ve joined this war?” Gorou glances over to [Name]. Their eyes are pretty. He muses silently, expectantly waiting for their answer.

“No.” [Name] looks away. Gorou wonders why, but they are speaking faster than he can get his words out.

“I wanted an opportunity to go beyond the restraints of my parents,” [Name] pauses, “they’re back in Liyue.”

“Why?”

[Name] stops moving, and Gorou does, too. He freezes, the subconscious wag of his tail when they’re around — also, stops.

“I’m tired.”

He perks up. “Oh! You’re right, we should head back to cam—”

“No.” There’s a bittersweet smile on [Name]’s face, as if they were reminiscing a memory. “I was… tired. I just…” Their expression is fatal to his heart, and he already regrets asking. Don’t force yourself. His throat hurts, but he didn’t even yell that much today.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’m kind of lame, so—”

“It’s okay.”

Gorou’s eyes widened at his own response. “I mean, wait, it’s not okay to be burnt out— but like, it’s okay to feel that way and—”

[Name] laughs, and for a second, Gorou wonders if this is his future. The war — one day, it too, will be a memory. And then what? Will he live the rest of his days on Sangonomiya Island? As much as he appreciates Her Excellency, the cakes on this island were not as magnificent as back in Inazuma City.

“Gorou,” [Name] says, and he shuts up. For real, this time. His stomach flutters, and even his ears seem to freeze in order to hear what [Name] has to say.

“Yes?” His voice is meek, and he flushes at the sound of it. I sound totally dumb right now! He hopes [Name] won’t make fun of him for it later.

“Thank you. For everything.”

—

“[Name].” Gorou is awfully used to saying their name, he finds himself always having it in the back of his throat. His throat, which is now suffering from the repercussions of his robust commands and booming voice.

“Gorou.” [Name] doesn’t look up — they’re too busy doodling a snowman in the sand. It’s a sandman. He suppresses a grin.

“Once the war is over…” He knows he is speaking boldly, and there’s a higher chance that they may not make it out alive than the chance of the war ending, “would you—”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t even know what I was going to say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” [Name] still doesn’t tear their eyes from their doodle. “We are bound together. By colors.”

The world was dull. It’s dull, it was — it’s no longer dull, it’s beautiful. They, they are beautiful. But wait—

“Gorou.”

[Name] no longer waits for him to respond. They know him well enough, so well, that the flick of his ears and the shake of his tail is enough for them to understand. Reds, oranges, pinks… They are gorgeous. Of course, of course they are. He was also… gorgeous. We are bound together.

“We will be okay.”

He nods, his bashful smile turning into a determined grin. Of course. If not, what are we?

It’s warm. He notices. It’s warm, you’re warm. I’m warm. There are butterflies, and they no longer remain in his stomach alone.

“Yeah.” He curls his fingers, the knuckles of his hand turning white. “We will.”