The Summit's Silence
The night air clung heavy to Mori's skin as he stepped closer, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots sounding unnaturally loud. Takuro didn't turn. He sat perfectly still at the cliff's edge, knees drawn up slightly, arms resting loosely across them. The moon painted him silver, but his presence was darker than ever.
"Takuro," Mori said softly, his voice breaking the silence.
For a long moment, nothing. The wind tugged at Takuro's hair, carrying with it the faint smell of smoke from the village far below.
Finally, Takuro spoke. "…You should be resting."
Mori hesitated, then sat down a few feet away. The cold rock bit through his clothes. He looked out at the horizon with him, where the mountains rolled endlessly, and shadows seemed to swallow the stars.
"I couldn't," Mori admitted. "Not after everything. And… not while you're up here alone."
---
Takuro's Deflection
Takuro gave a low chuckle, though it lacked any warmth.
"You've always been like that. Can't leave things alone. Always rushing to stand beside people even when you've barely found your own footing."
Mori frowned slightly, but kept his tone calm.
"Maybe. But… isn't that what makes us human? That we stand together even when we're weak?"
Takuro didn't answer. His gaze never left the horizon.
Mori drew in a breath.
"Everyone's worried about you. Saki, Kaida, even Renji. They… they said you haven't spoken to them since the fight."
Takuro's lips curved faintly, though his eyes were unreadable.
"Worried, huh? They should worry about themselves. Half of them almost died."
"That's why," Mori pressed gently. "We can't keep shutting each other out. Not now. Not after… losing Raiden, losing Akio. Not after seeing Emi's grief."
For the first time, Takuro's fingers curled slightly against his knee, knuckles pale.
---
The Cracks Show
"Loss," Takuro murmured. "That word… it follows us everywhere in this cursed world. Doesn't it?"
Mori glanced at him. The shadows under Takuro's eyes looked deeper than before, his face sharper, almost worn.
"You're not wrong," Mori admitted. "But that's why we keep moving. For the people who can't anymore."
"Easy words," Takuro replied, voice low. "But you don't know what it's like… to carry everything alone. To fight battles no one sees. To… rot inside while others call it 'strength.'"
Mori's chest tightened. Is that how he feels?
"You don't have to carry it alone," Mori said firmly. "Not anymore. You have us. You have me."
Takuro's eyes flicked to him then, and for a fleeting moment, something raw passed through them — pain, anger, maybe envy. Then it was gone.
"…You don't understand, Mori," he whispered. "You never have."
---
Mori's Plea
Mori shifted closer, ignoring the sharp bite of the cold stone.
"Then help me understand. Tell me what you're carrying. Tell me why you're up here instead of with us."
Takuro let out a breath that was almost a laugh, though it trembled.
"If I told you… if you knew what I really was, what I've done… would you still look at me the same way?"
"Yes," Mori said without hesitation. His voice rang clear beneath the moon.
Takuro blinked, startled.
"…You didn't even think about it."
"I don't need to," Mori replied, meeting his gaze. "Because I know you. You're the one who's been fighting with us since the start. The one who's stood by me when I couldn't even stand on my own. Whatever you're hiding… it doesn't erase that."
The silence that followed was heavy, almost unbearable. Takuro turned his gaze away sharply, his jaw tight.
---
Takuro's Mask
"…You're too trusting, Mori," Takuro said finally, his tone regaining its usual calm. "That's going to get you killed one day."
"Maybe," Mori admitted, smiling faintly despite the heaviness in his chest. "But I'd rather die trusting than live shutting everyone out."
Takuro stared at him then, long and hard, as if trying to pierce through his very soul. At last, his shoulders lowered, just slightly.
"You're a fool," he muttered.
"Probably," Mori said, leaning back on his palms. "But I think fools are the only ones who survive in this world. The clever ones… they burn themselves out."
For the first time, Takuro's lips curved into something closer to a real smile, faint and fleeting. But it faded as quickly as it came, replaced by something unreadable.
---
The Weight of Envy
Takuro's voice softened, almost too quiet to hear.
"…Why is it always you?"
Mori blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Takuro shook his head, standing abruptly. His cloak fluttered in the cold breeze.
"Forget it. You wouldn't understand."
Mori pushed to his feet as well, refusing to let the conversation end there.
"Takuro, whatever you're carrying… we'll face it together. You don't have to fight in silence anymore."
Takuro turned, the moon casting his eyes in silver shadow. For one heartbeat, Mori thought he saw something — a storm, a hunger, a loneliness so vast it could swallow the world.
Then Takuro looked away.
"…Go back to the village, Mori. Get some rest. Tomorrow, everything will begin again."
---
Closing the Distance
Mori hesitated, then stepped closer, placing a hand on Takuro's shoulder.
"I don't know what you're hiding. I don't know why you're hurting. But until you tell me otherwise… I'll keep believing in you. That's my choice."
Takuro froze under his touch. Slowly, he looked back at him, eyes unreadable. Then he gave a small nod, almost imperceptible.
"…You're stubborn," he muttered.
Mori smiled faintly. "Takes one to know one."
And for the first time that night, the silence between them wasn't empty. It was heavy, yes — but shared.
---
The End of the Night
They stood together at the summit, the moon above watching silently, the village lights flickering below like fragile stars.
Neither spoke again. But as Mori turned to leave, he carried with him a strange certainty:
That Takuro's walls were cracking.
And behind them lay something far darker — and far more fragile — than he'd ever imagined.
---