Gyomei's POV
The path stretched on beneath their feet, quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves and the steady rhythm of their steps. Mamoru's question still lingered in the air like an echo:
"Gyomei, what does fairness mean to the world?"
Gyomei's lips had answered, his voice steady, his beads clinking softly as his hands clasped together:
"Fairness does not exist in this world. The world never promised anyone that it would be fair."
But now, as silence settled between them, it was his thoughts that began to stir.
He had long ago realized the truth of his words. If the world was truly fair, why had he been born blind, cast into darkness while others saw the light of day? If the world was fair, why had he been orphaned, stripped of the warmth of parents, forced to grow up alone? If fairness existed, why had the villagers branded him a murderer when all he had ever done was protect the innocent?
No… fairness was a luxury, a dream. One he had buried deep within himself to survive.
And yet Mamoru's question made him pause. It wasn't just idle curiosity. Gyomei could feel it in his tone, the hesitation in his silence now. Mamoru was struggling, wrestling with the harshness of reality clashing against the ideals he still clung to.
Gyomei tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Of course, It must be because of Mamoru's upbringing. Raised as the son of a daimyo, surrounded by people who sheltered him, telling stories of honor, duty, and righteousness, it was only natural that he still searched for fairness in the world.
But beneath that innocence was something else ,something rare.
Justice and compassion.
True, burning justice.
Not the kind wielded by corrupt officials who clung to power, but the kind that risked everything for others. Gyomei had seen it with his own eyes.
He recalled the moments, one by one:
Mamoru straining under the weight of harvest loads alongside villagers, sweat dripping down his brow, refusing to let them bear all the burden.
Mamoru trudging into the village with a beast 3x bigger than him on his back, his face tired but beaming, eager to share food with those who had little.
Mamoru giving away his own share so that children could eat more.
And above all Mamoru drawing his sword against the cell that confined Gyomei, choosing to risk being branded a criminal, choosing to stand for justice rather than remain silent in the face of falsehood.
Gyomei's chest tightened at the memory. He hadn't realized it then, but it struck him now.
"Mamoru … you risked being branded a criminal for my sake , for the sake of the truth and for the sake of justice , you did it without a second thought ."
After that night , Gyomei had believed children to be selfish, careless, blind to suffering. His own persecution had sealed that belief like iron. But Mamoru ,Mamoru had broken that wall.
Maybe not all children were selfish.
Maybe… there were exceptions.
And if there were, then Mamoru was one of them. A boy who looked not to himself, but to the world around him, seeking to bear the burdens of others even at the cost of his own.
Gyomei's lips parted into a faint, genuine smile, unseen behind his calm demeanor. His beads clinked again as he whispered silently to himself, a prayer not of despair but of quiet hope:
"Perhaps… the world is not as empty as I thought."
Beside him, Mamoru walked in silence, deep in thought, still wrestling with his question. Gyomei did not disturb him. Instead, he let the silence remain an unspoken bond between them, a shared step on a long path where justice and despair met in the middle.
Gyomei felt his view shift, just ever so slightly.