keep breathing
Summary: Mitsuhide. (Don't forget, it keeps you alive.) Oneshot, set during ch. 84.
Warning: Introspection, drabble.
Set: During the Bergatt arc, ch. 84 (there be spoilers).
Disclaimers: Standards apply.
Happy Easter Holidays! (2017)
The irony makes him want to laugh, but he has no breath left:
In a series of most unfortunate events Mitsuhide Rouen, Sword and aide of His Highness Prince Zen Westalia of Clarines, is accused of attacking potential suitors of the heiress of the Seiran family.
They take his sword.
They incarcerate him in Celeg's tower.
They sully his name and his reputation, the only thing he has: his honor.
And even this pales in contrast to what they are actually doing, in what might be a welcome or unwelcome side effect or the actual goal of the mastermind hiding between two young soldiers and a garrison of soldiers. What they – whoever is behind this heinous plot – actually achieve, is: they separate Mitsuhide from Zen and Kiki, and that is unforgivable.
Kiki's eyes are as grey and hard as steel as she defends him, and the tone in Zen's voice cuts glass. There is nothing they can do, of course, nothing he can do except to, for the moment, accept his fate. They will be alright, he tells himself; they will be fine. They will find out who did this, and why, and they will stop them. Zen will be fine. Kiki will be fine. Mitsuhide does not care what happens to himself, as long as they will be fine.
And whoever is behind this better kill him before he sets a foot out of Celeg again: because if anything – anything! – happens to Zen (or Kiki), Mitsuhide will find out who is responsible for it, and he will hunt him down and kill him no matter what it takes.
His fists open and close.
Calm down. Keep breathing.
Mitsuhide is twenty-seven summers old.
He hails from a peasant family, grew up in the forests and fields of his home town. Joined the garrison of Celeg when he was twelve, and has trained since then. His attitude, loyalty and ability with the sword quickly had him rise through the ranks and caught the interest of the right people. And since he turned eighteen he has been Prince Zen's personal aide. Neither has he ever looked back, nor has he ever placed anything above his duty and loyalty to his liege lord.
Similarly, he has no intention of searching for a bride.
It is not like Mitsuhide has no interest per say.
He is a healthy man, after all. He might not indulge in women in the way some of his friends and fellow soldiers do, but he has been known to enjoy their presence (and sometimes more) occasionally. And he, too, dreams of a future, albeit a distant one: a wife and sweet children. But, most important of all: he dreams of a home to return to; a wife who is not only his home maker but a partner and someone he can share his dreams and his duties with, and that…
It is not the time to think about that just now.
Right now his duty is his life and his home is right here: with his Prince and with his partner, both of them tasked with the responsibility of aiding and protecting him. The three of them, with Obi and Shirayuki, form an awkward shape of responsibility and trust, of friendship and duty and loyalty. It is not a circle; nothing so smooth and predictable. There are rough patches, fights, separation and travels, orders he only takes grudgingly and times when Zen chafes under his advice. Times when they barely get to sleep because there is so much that has to be done. Times when every bone in his body screams with fatigue and yet he forces himself to move. Days when Kiki, Obi, Zen, Shirayuki and he do not agree and the air around them is icy and silent. And then there are days when they are the only thing that makes him hold on, and it is enough.
But they are not a circle.
None of them is perfect, after all.
Zen is burdened by his responsibilities, his doubts and hesitations when it comes to his duty and his brother, the king, and his family's allegiance. His loneliness, too, and by the burden of expectation set upon his shoulders since he was old enough to hold a sword. Shirayuki still battles with her social standing, the simple yet unforgettable fact that her birth alone sets her apart from Zen. She knows that she, too, can be used against him, and it burdens her. Kiki has her family, her family's heritage and her duty as the Seiran heiress, along with her self-imposed loyalty and duty towards Zen. And Obi, despite giving off the air of no worries and no concerns, still is troubled by his past, his unwillingness to settle down. It is against everything he has been taught and everything he taught himself: to connect himself to other beings, to risk everything by settling down and binding himself to others. And Mitsuhide, finally, born into a lowly family of soldiers, chosen by merit, still has to prove himself to everyone daily in order to be accepted as the Prince's aide and Sword. They will never be a circle; as broken as they are, as ragged and barbed with their cut edges and their broken spines. They huddle together like wounded animals in an attempt to protect themselves – and each other.
But Zen, in their middle, stands strong, and Shirayuki holds them up with her kindness and her iron determination. Obi provides the occasional deviation from rules and expected behavior, Kiki contributes the unbreakable loyalty. While Mitsuhide just weaves around them and in between them, hovers above, and makes sure none of them drifts too far away.
And together – together they are good.
They will never be a circle but with time their edges and spikes might soften, grow and multiply and finally merge into something with the rough shape of a ball, and that is when there will be no need for him to protect Zen anymore.
Or, at least, that is what he likes to think.
Not that Mitsuhide will ever leave Zen.
He also likes to think that this is the one thing that will never change: he will forever be at his Prince's side, no matter where or when. He will protect him as long as he lives, come hell or high water.
But he knows that someday they will have to separate.
Or, rather: one day, Kiki will have to leave.
It is a thought so horrifying that he pushes it aside, buries it in the depths of his consciousness, and prefers not to think about it.
Kiki.
He can see her. He knows her. He can read it in the rigid line of her shoulders and spine, in the stubborn line of her chin. Her trust in him is absolute. Her refusal to even consider he might have anything to do with the conspiracy is humbling, even though he trusts her implicitly, as well. The way she looked at him when their eyes met, before the door of his makeshift prison closed behind her, screamed her every thought.
He never loved her more than right then.
When she argued on his behalf, stated her trust in him and attempted to clear the suspicions laid upon him. She is beautiful, she is strong, she is his partner in protecting Zen, in sparring and sword fights, in preparing travel plans and attending official events. She is fiercely intelligent and unconditionally loyal, she is incredibly strong and fast and immeasurably beautiful. Sometimes, he wakes up in cold sweat, dreaming of what-if's and this never happened's, and he wants to curl up and cry and rage and scream at the mere thought that she will be leaving, one day.
And he will stay with Zen as long as he lives, so there is no way–
Not that it matters. Kiki is the heiress of the Seiran Clan. Soon she will leave and return to the grand mansion and her actually pretty fun father and marry a rich, important and useless person like Celeg's vice commander. And then, finally, she will not only be out of his reach but perhaps out of his mind, too.
Just breathe–
The darkness outside is suffocating.
And then, suddenly, there are screams, and fire blossoms outside. He tenses, jumps to the window, cannot see anything. But every instinct of his, carefully honed over years, screams that something is wrong.
The garrison is under attack.
And he is in here, cannot do anything, cannot help, cannot fight, he cannot protect Zen and Kiki–
His chest is too small.
And then the door opens, forcefully, Mitsuhide reacts and lets his hand fly and the Vice-commander's eyes grow wide in surprise but he still is agile enough to dodge the projectile that slams against the door frame with enough force to leave a sizeable dent and then clatters to the stone floor. They both stare at the remnants of a candlestick, twisted metal rendering the thing useless for its prior task.
"Next time remind me to have everything removed save the bed," Hisame says, laconically, and pretends to swipe some dust off his spotless shoulder. "The garrison is under attack. Lady Kiki left some time ago."
He has not quite finished when Mitsuhide dashes past him; lightning-fast. Still, Hisame's arm shoots forward and bars his path.
"You might want to take some of those candle sticks with you."
Mitsuhide growls at him wordlessly, get out of my way or suffer the consequences.
"Or this," the Vice-commander smirks, blasted bastard. The soft leather, well-worn and familiar, fits into his hand like a second skin. Mitsuhide does not take the time to acknowledge how very strange their situation is right now.
"Where?"
"Follow me."
They sprint down the corridor and up the last set of stairs that leads to the garrison's walls. The night air is cold, a slap to the face, Mitsuhide does not feel anything at all. Fires are burning at several spots on the wall. The sound of clanking steel and muffled shouts seems to be everywhere. They are nearing the end of the eastern wall, there is a fight in the yard below, he can hear it, feel his blood boil at the thought that Zen is somewhere without either him or Kiki to protect him. He rounds the corner, Hisame hot on his heels, and:
"Don't get in my way!"
He recognizes her voice even in his sleep. And he loves the way it raises above the din of fighting in the hallway – the way it snaps through the air like a whip. Mercy on the soul that does not abide by her order.
He calls out her name, his own voice snapping over the fight.
Obi reacts, immediately. "Miss Kiki, leave this to me and head on to Master!"
"It's the same for me," Hisame says, not even lightly out of breath despite their speed. "Go on ahead."
Later, Mitsuhide will hate him for that and the rest of his perfect, perfect perfection. But right now, he owes the man. And he always pays back his debts, so he tells Hisame so, but he does not wait for more than the man's surprised expression. Mitsuhide sprints along the walls, leaving behind the light and sound of battle as he dives into a less occupied part of the garrison. He matches his speed without needing to see her, listens to her steps and keeps an eye out for the end of the wall he knows is approaching fast.
(He knows every nook and cranny of this garrison, he has spent half of his life within the walls-)
Now.
He touches down below without breaking his stride and the sight of Kiki – albeit a bit rumpled, her silvery hair falling out of her usual ponytail and a bruise over her right eye – makes something in him – unfold. Or stop. He is not quite sure.
Their steps synchronize without them needing a conscious thought.
"You alright, Kiki?"
"I'm okay," she returns, tight and controlled. "But Obi is a bit injured."
She casts a glance at him, and, as so often before, it makes his breath hitch. There is apology in her eyes, apology and guilt. And Mitsuhide knows with the same security that makes him know his own feelings that she is blaming herself for everything again, that she is trying to shoulder all the responsibility for having someone blacken his name and attack the castle and threaten Zen. I am not okay, her shoulders scream. She looks a bit like the lonely warrior again she was when they first met, willing and ready to shoulder her own battles all by herself without anyone to rely on.
But she is not. Not anymore.
So he reaches out and ruffles her hair. She relaxes at his touch, much like he relaxes at her sight alone.
"Sorry I made you wait."
There is relief in her voice and worry, for Obi and Zen. And a controlled spark of fury that she is not with them right now, anger at the dark power behind these schemes, guilt that she has not been able to foresee it, and also not to prevent it. But it is not only her responsibility to do so. It is Mitsuhide's, as well. And together, they can feel guilty, but they cannot let this get into the way of their main goal. She knows that as well as he does.
"It's alright," he tells her, and her eyes soften. She always understood him. Around her, he can breathe.
It makes him love her more than anything.
The truth is: Mitsuhide never considered marrying anyone, because if he does, it will be Kiki and nobody else.