DISCLAIMER: I don't own Prince of Tennis. Thank you and have a nice day.
A/N: Heavily inspired by The Last Samurai. This fic shares some important similarities with the movie.
NOTE: Change of POVs throughout. Please enjoy slowly for full effect.
WARNINGS: One percent lemon. Fifty percent death.
[BGM: Gackt - "Sakura, Chiru"]
Hana no Bokutachi
~花の僕たち~
...
If it was not Fate, then he could not think of any other reason for their chanced encounter…
-Yukimura Seiichi
...
Spring.
Everything awoke suddenly from their long winter slumber. The streets of Rikkai livened up and grew crowded unlike any time before.
It was at such a setting that he first encountered the other.
At that time, he brought along two of his bodyguards and his childhood friend, Sanada Genichirou, to make his usual tour around town.
He was ten then. Still a child. Still curious. Still energetic. His eyes wandered from vendor to vendor and stall to stall tirelessly.
A great cherry tree occupying an empty street corner had halted his wandering eyes. The five-petal blossoms spread from branch to branch, displaying their full elegance to the passerby.
Captivated, he drew closer to the tree to have a better look.
However, instead of seeing what he expected, he witnessed a scene that opposed the flowers' delicate beauty.
A small and frail child, probably younger than he, collapsed under the tree covered in blood and soot. Surrounding the other, a gang of five to six children trapped the boy in a violent squall of punches and kicks. Their wild movements shook the tree, shattering the blossoms.
The broken petals rained down upon them. Soon, detached from the tree that provided them with the essence of life, the fallen blossoms would wither and die on the ground. Such was the fragility of their lives.
Their inconsiderate actions irritated the part of him who was a flower-lover.
Their brutality towards the weaker boy angered the part of him who was the future protector of the town and its population.
As his father's heir, he has inherited such responsibilities as his father had, preceding him.
Thus, saving the boy was his responsibility now.
Turning to his bodyguards and his friend, he sent a silent message through a single gaze.
"Do not interfere. I will take care of this."
Afterwards, disregarding his friend's look of disapproval, he rushed forward to enter the fight as brave and determined as a samurai engaging battle.
He successfully rescued the child from the bullies.
They ran away screaming in horror. "This kid is as crazy as the demon child!"
He ignored their petty remarks. Redirecting his focus on the weakened boy, he rushed to the other's side to check on the seriousness of his injuries.
It was at that very moment, as he knelt before the other, that Seiichi saw a sliver of the purest amber through the cracks of the other's eyes.
Yet, before he had a chance to contemplate upon their allure, the boy shut his eyes and lost total consciousness.
…
Seiichi rescued the boy. He also brought the boy back home with him.
But of course, he only gained such a privilege after a brief argument with his worrier friend.
The two of them now sat on their knees, guarding the boy. While, the other slept undisturbed under the covers of the futon in a clean yukata the maids dressed him in after bathing him.
His friend spoke beside him.
"Young master, this is not a good idea. We do not know who he is and where he has come from. And more importantly, we do not know what his intentions are."
Seiichi was secretly amused. The warrior's careful and cautious traits were already carved deeply into Genichiou's character. It was because of these traits that he almost felt as if he was being lectured by an elderly.
He smiled in reassurance. "Don't worry, Genichirou. I know what I'm doing."
Before his friend could further protest, a voice interrupted from the doorway behind them.
"Seiichi-sama."
He did not lift his gaze from the sleeping figure. Speaking in a low voice as if not to awaken the other, he asked, "Did you get his information, Yagyuu?"
"Yes." His bodyguard spoke in an equally low and quiet voice. "He was the sole survivor of the fire that destroyed the Yanagi residence two years ago."
"Oh? So, he is from the Yanagi family?"
"Yes, he is the youngest son of the Yanagi family."
"…And he's been living on the streets ever since the fire?"
"That is correct."
Disapproval wrinkled the distance between his eyebrows. "Have the others always mistreated him?"
"According to the children in town, he is a jinx. The misfortunes that he speaks of always become reality."
He fleered. "Is that so?" Such was the stupidity of the immature.
"Yes. The children say that he has cursed their families."
His friend muttered, "What nonsense."
Seiichi chuckled softly then. He had the same thought in mind. Sometimes, he counted on his straightforward friend to speak their shared thoughts, thoughts that were impolite and improper for someone in his role to utter.
Clearing his throat, he regained his composure and nodded. "That will be all. Thank you, Yagyuu."
"Not at all, Seiichi-sama." With that, his bodyguard immediately disappeared without a trace.
He continued his watch over the other. His interest of the boy was gradually peaking.
Was the other truly a curse? Was the other truly a demon child?
The answer did not matter to him. After all, such were labels people gave out readily to satisfy their prejudice.
As if his thoughts had disturbed him, the boy stirred in bed.
Seiichi leaned forward. "You are awake."
The boy nodded weakly. He fought with the heavy covers, struggling to sit up.
His hands reached out with the intention to help the other. However, Genichirou's extended arm blocked him from the other.
When he looked over to his friend in question, he saw the distrust burn strongly in his eyes. Receiving and accepting Genichirou's message, he withdrew, sitting back down on his knees. He observed as Genichirou unwillingly helped the boy sit up.
Once seated, the first thing Seiichi noticed was the boy's unopened eyes.
"How do you feel?" He made no comment on his observation.
"I am fine. Thank you."
"You are under my care now. I'm Yukimura Seiichi. The one beside you is my friend, Sanada Genichirou."
The boy nodded in comprehension. "It is my honor to meet you both. I am Yanagi Renji."
From his formal mannerism, Seiichi knew the boy came from a family of distinguished status.
"Ne, why did you not run away?" He referred to the incident earlier.
"…I was waiting for someone…" The boy replied quietly.
"But you could have gone back to that same spot."
The boy shook his head. "I had to be there at that time."
"Oh?" Seiichi was even more intrigued. "So, did the one you were waiting for, arrive?"
"Yes."
Feeling bold, he ventured, "Who was it?"
Strangely, the boy chose to pause there. His eyelids slowly uncovered the amber depths hidden beneath. The other looked straight at him, into his sapphire depths.
This time, Seiichi was mesmerized.
And in the same calm voice he had been speaking in, the boy stated.
"I was waiting for you."
…
...
"I was waiting for you."
How many years have passed since he declared such a thing to him? Yes, how many years indeed. For the memory of his declaration and the other's face full of astonishment was still as clear as if it had only occurred yesterday…
-Yanagi Renji
...
Night. A light tap on his door.
"Come in, Seiichi." Knowing the other would be here, he did not remove his eyes from the words on the page of his book. The paper door slid open and close. Footsteps approached him. A figure planted himself beside him on the tatami mat.
"Renji." The other's usual soft voice, lighter than his own.
"I am here." He confirmed.
The other buried his face in his shoulder. His arms wrapped themselves around his waist.
"My father… His conditions do not appear well."
"…Aa…"
"Tell me, Renji. What are his chances at recovery?" The material of his yukata muffled his voice.
Renji's eyes stuck to the words on the page, but his mind could not absorb its content. "…You must be prepared to face the unexpected."
"…Is that so…"
They were both silent then.
He felt liquid heat soak through his yukata and burn sadness upon his shoulder.
They sat like that through the entire night.
…
A few days later, the leader of their clan, Seiichi's father, deceased.
In the grand funeral held for him, the clansmen marched the casket around the town. The crowd divided themselves evenly amongst the left and right of the streets allowing the passage of the casket. Everyone wore black mourning kimono.
It was nightfall after the ceremony. Fatigued by the long ceremony, he decided to take a walk in the large household garden. Yet, the serene environment could not calm him as it usually did.
He could not concentrate on the beauty of spring heightened in the full moonlight. Instead, he lost himself in remembrance. He lost himself in reminiscence.
It was funny how the dead provoked the memories of the living. It was perhaps, a way they used to extend their lives a bit longer in others' minds, to make up for the misfortune of being unable to extend their lives in the physical world.
Renji thought of Seiichi's father. The other was a gentle person. Yet, he had a firm resolve even with that gentleness. He was a perfect leader.
Coincidentally, thinking of Seiichi's father made him think of Seiichi. Like father, like son, the other had inherited many of his father's traits and qualities. Those qualities would help him become the respected leader that his father was before him.
As if his thoughts were chained together in a special sequence, thinking of Seiichi led him to think of their first meeting.
Ten years have already passed since Seiichi rescued him on the streets. It was their fateful encounter that Renji went from living on the streets, wearing the dirty clothes on his back to living in the luxurious Yukimura residence, clothed in the highest quality of silks and cottons.
In repayment of Seiichi's kindness, he trained to become his guardian. However, unlike Genichirou, whose abilities lied in his excellence in the art of war and the techniques of the sword, Renji's ability was a bit unique, as it came naturally in his birth. He had to cultivate the ability on his own, for no one could teach another the art of prophecy.
Seiichi had accepted his ability to foretell the future rather quickly. The other knew that he kept his eyes closed to prevent himself from prying too much into the future, and into the business of others.
Nevertheless, the other complemented him many times. "How could anyone see you as a demon child? Your prophecies are helpful, actually."
Perhaps that was so, only to those who knew how to take advantage of time and adjust to the future revealed to them.
With time, the skills and talents Yukimura possessed for the sword and his leadership trainings earned him the title, "Child of God."
With time, he and Seiichi became inseparable.
But, now, the relationship between them has become quite strange. He could not even put a name to it.
Was it friendship? Was it gratitude?
Or perhaps, it was something else, he secretly thought. He left that something else as is, never attempting to define it specifically. If he did, he knew, their relationship would become taboo.
"You're here again."
Seiichi's voice pulled him from his reflections. He realized that he was standing before the biggest cherry tree in the garden. The luminescence-wheel up above shone its silver rays on the flower buds. They glowed as if coming to life.
"It seems whenever you are reminiscing, you come here and stand under this particular tree."
"...It has become a habit..."
The other only smiled knowingly and joined him.
"Because of you," he turned to gaze admiringly at the tree too, "I think it has become a habit for me too."
Then, they said no more. Perhaps they were both lost in their reminiscence.
Finally, after a while, Seiichi whispered, "Do you know how many times we have stood under the same tree, looked at the same blossoming flowers, and observed the same full moon in the distant skies?"
On cue, the wind came and swept away some petals from the blossoms on the branches. It reminded him much of the flower shower that poured down upon him the day of their first encounter.
He could provide the answer to that question. But he knew, the other was not seeking for an answer. He knew, because the slightest change in the other's tone and actions was part of the many things he learned to discern without the use of his fully opened eyes.
In the dim light, he felt a hand reach for his own.
"My father has left me with a great duty. I don't know how much I will be able to accomplish after him. Perhaps I will fail. Perhaps you already know that I will fail… Will you still stay with me?"
His grip tightened on the other's hand.
"Of course." In truth, he had no interest in knowing about the other's success or failure.
There was a disadvantage about being able to predict the future. Sometimes, some things could not be changed. Like the death of Seiichi's father. And such things made a man feel less powerful than he already was.
That was why, in the ten years he walked beside the other, he had not once opened his eyes to him. He had never once examined the other's future.
...
Sometimes the most unfortunate thing a father could bequeath to his child is the hatred he harbored for another. The heaviest burden a clan leader could pass onto his successor is the grudge he held against another clan.
Seiichi's father was a commendable father. But like some good fathers who still end up ruining their children, he taught his hatred for Tezuka Kuniharu to Seiichi, and in turn, Seiichi learned to hate the other's son, Tezuka Kunimitsu. He left Rikkai's grudge against Seishun with Seiichi, and in turn, Seiichi carried on that same bitter grudge.
Now, both Tezuka Kunimitsu and Seiichi were the leaders of their clans. Not only that, they were also the emperor's advisors. Their powers were evenly distributed amongst the imperial council.
Their bitter rivalry, ironically, laid in their opposing views on a single political stand point.
Seishun had been for the modernization of Japan, for the involvement of the west in the development of the country's military power.
Rikkai, however, objected firmly against the country's modernization, against the unknown that threatened to cut them from their roots.
Their bitter conflict continued for years behind the emperor's back.
When Seiichi told him of such a conflict, he simply opened his eyes to gaze into the future that reveal itself to him in the far horizon.
"One day, Seishun and Rikkai will face each other on the battlefield."
Adhering to his prophecy like the many times before, Seiichi began training his men tirelessly. From their raising morale, Renji could almost feel their victory. After all these years, he sincerely thought that prophecy alone was useless. For, man had the ability to change the course of his fate. And that was only through hard work.
That was until a sudden occurrence influenced the entire situation a few years later.
One day, upon his arrival back from the imperial council, Seiichi collapsed and lost all consciousness.
Because of this, Kuwahara Jackal, the only foreign doctor in the clan, was summoned to examine their leader.
Renji watched as the doctor palpated the other's radial pulses. Witnessing the disapproval carved deeply between the dark man's brows, he knew Seiichi's conditions were unfavorable.
"His conditions do not seem well..." The foreign medical practitioner told the both of them once they retreated from the room. "I apologize, for I cannot offer any treatment for such an illness."
Genichirou let lose his anger almost immediately. "What nonsense! Are you not a doctor?"
Kuwahara could only shake his head. "No treatment will work for his illness, for his illness is not physiological, but psychological."
And Renji knew, it must be the hatred and grudge that his father had left him that were eating away at the other's heart and life.
...
Spring left in a hurry, chased away by early summer.
The heat of summer, combined with Seiichi's adversity, overwhelmed them.
From that point on, Seiichi's conditions grew worse gradually.
Because Seiichi was not well enough to participate in the imperial council, he sent Genichirou to participate in his place.
All the while, Renji tended to the other's immediate needs.
After all the time that had passed since the other had been brought down by his sickness, Seiichi finally inquired him.
"Renji... Will you tell me the chances of my survival?"
"..." Already anticipating such a question, he did not pause in his work. He wrung out a washcloth from the metal basin beside Seiichi's futon. Then, he rolled up the material and dipped its corners carefully along the curves and grooves of the other face, cleaning off his sweat.
To his silence, Seiichi remarked sarcastically. "It must be a truly complicated matter if you refuse to tell me."
Renji dropped the washcloth back into the basin and sighed. "What else do you need me to inform you about? You already have an idea of the final outcome."
"So... This is a terminal illness..."
His hands were tightly fisted at his knees. He had put all of his strength into holding his hands together into a fist. It was as if he was holding tightly onto something. Something important. It was as if the other's life was within his grasp. Thus, he would not let go. Even if he was merely deluding himself thinking it had been Seiichi's life that he had control over, he still would not let go.
"Maybe I had been a bad person in the past life. Maybe, that is why Kami-sama is taking my life so early..." Those were words that he never expected coming from the strong leader of Rikkai. But being that strong leader of Rikkai was a privilege. It was only possible for the other to be that strong leader when he was healthy and well. Now, he was only a sick man, an ordinary human being, subject to superstition and pessimism.
Renji, more than anything, could not tolerate seeing him like this.
So he thought for a while for words to comfort the other with. "They call you the 'Child of God'... perhaps, it is just that your father misses you and is calling you home..."
Hearing his explanation, a light chuckle cracked the other's bitter expression. "Ne, Renji, you sure know how to make someone feel better."
Renji shook his head. It was a meager endeavor, really.
The other shifted on the futon. He peered at him with tender gratitude lighting up his eyes. "Thank you... Thank you for being here still."
...
Autumn came, and painted the maples the color of sunset.
Then, autumn left, and the leaves fell humbly to welcome the arrival of winter. The cold season was like a gentle mother, as she covered her children, the grass, the trees, the lakes in thick blankets of snow and frost.
Afterwards, spring crept in quickly to melt the snow as her way of announcing the arrival of a new season. From the hints of pink peeking from the knots on the branches stripped bare by the winter cold, it was easy to acknowledge the presence of spring.
March. He and Genichirou held a small birthday celebration for Seiichi. The day came and went like any other.
Strangely, the other's conditions improved after that. When he was well enough to be out of bed, he summoned important clan members to leave them his verbal advance instructions.
Renji knew, Seiichi sensed the strangeness of his improvement to be a sign of his imminent end. Perhaps, the other have already tracked down the colorless shadow of Death as it lurked closer to him.
One full-moon night, Seiichi refused to retired to bed early as usual. He insisted that he was well enough for a small walk.
Renji complied with the other's rare display of childish stubbornness. Saying nothing, he merely pulled a haori coat over the other's yukata.
As the two of them walked in the night garden, their feet automatically carried them to their usual destination under the large cherry tree.
He watched him as they stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Seiichi reached out to take a single branch of cherry blossoms in his hand.
"They say the perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life." Saying, the other freed the branch from his own grasp and smiled, as if savoring the words. The other then turned to him. "I think, I have not wasted my life however short it had been."
"...Is that so..." Renji paused. "You can say this even when you know you are dying?"
He was perhaps, a bit angry at the other's careless attitude.
At the same time, a gust of wind broke through the calm of the night and swept up the blossoms trembling in the dark, serving as a manifestation of his displeasure.
The other continued to smile carelessly, his eyes following the dancing petals.
"Like these blossoms, we are all dying..." He shrugged. "It is only the matter of time. When I know this, there is nothing to fear. When we have lived life, death just becomes natural. This is so, especially for we who practice Bushido."
He did not reply to the other's words. After seeing so much life and death, he should understand this already. It was ironic how he, living life now, could not see past to the other's message already. Maybe, because he was so good at predicting other people's death that he never thought of his own. He never contemplated the possibility of it. As if he was anything more than a mere mortal.
The other lifted his head to gaze up at the full moon. In that soft and emotional voice that he remembered too well, the other recited:
I wish I die under the cherry blossoms
With full moon in spring.
"...Saigyo, is it..."He recognized this poem.
"I wonder if he had his wish granted him in the end..." The other's lips rose at one corner. It was not a full smile. "And if I am truly the Child of God, I hope my father up in Heaven will take pity on me and grant me this one wish."
Sadness wrinkled the distance between his brows. He gripped tightly onto the other's hand as if attempting to pass some of his reassurance to the other. "If that is your wish... It will surely be granted."
Seiichi lifted a brow. "Oh, is that so? Is that what your prophecy says?"
He shook his head. "Some things you do not need prophecies to predict." 'If that is your wish, then I will make it happen.'
As if reading his mind, the other smiled happily.
And he thought, the other's smile was especially beautiful when the flowers around them perfected the scene and the mood. He was mesmerized.
The moonlight eventually became a shadow, something he dismissed as the other leaned forward to attach his lips softly with his.
It was the first kiss they shared. It was the last kiss they shared.
A few days later, Seiichi's wish came true. But of course, the cost of that, was his life.
...
...
The warrior's path is lonelier than anyone else's. And if he already knew loneliness for so long, what is there to fear about death?
-Sanada Genichirou
...
It was funny how the dead served as an important reminder to the living.
As he stared at the black casket containing his lord's body, all he could think of were the promises he made days ago, before the other's death.
"I have some requests to make."
The two of them sat face to face. Dense seriousness hovered in the air unlike any time before.
"Yes." He answered, ready to accept whatever responsibility his lord was to entrust to him.
"Please take care of the clan in my place. As you already know, I have not yet children. So, if I must choose a successor, there is no one else more suitable than you. I know that it is because of you that we were able to be so prosperous through these years."
He could have rejected his lord's request out of courtesy, out of humility. He had done so when his lord usually gave him such high regard. Yet, this time, he would not decline. For, he too, could not trust the burden of his lord's clan with another.
He agreed. "Then, I shall honor my lord and accept this responsibility wholeheartedly."
"Good." The other nodded, satisfaction settling in the line between his lips. "And, I must ask you for a personal request."
The other lowered his gaze humbly.
"This time, Genichirou, I make this request not as your superior. I make this request not as the highly respected leader of Rikkai. I make this request as a useless and dying man."
"My lord…" The other's words startled him, rendering him speechless.
"Please take care of Renji."
"…My lord…"
"As with this request, I, again, cannot think of anyone else more suitable for this task…" The other's voice contained a hopeless loneliness.
He knew that voice too well. He understood that feeling too well.
That was why he accepted such a request from the other as well.
Only he secretly knew, it was not fully because of duty, nor was it fully because of his old friendship with the other.
The soft fragrance of the cherry blossoms caressed his nostrils.
When he realized this, he was already standing under the large cherry tree in the night garden after the funeral.
It was the same cherry tree that shamed all the other trees and flowers with its glory and beauty.
It was the same cherry tree that his lord and his prophet always stood under.
He never joined them whenever they stood under this tree. As much as he desired to be in their company, to be in that particular person's company, he merely watched them from afar. Because, he believed, he did not belong in that world. Because, he reasoned, he would only bring ruin to their harmonious air.
Finally, now that he had a chance to stand under this tree, ironically, he was standing under it alone.
Yet, the same questions that wandered his mind so many times before swam there still.
Did he belong under this tree?
Did he belong in this spot?
A gust of wind, symbolizing his tumult, came, swiping at the blossoms above him. The wind chilled him, reminding him much of loneliness's cold company.
Mentally, he shook off those bothersome thoughts.
Sanada Genichirou did not favor thinking. For, many times, he was not brought to any solutions. Even when he was, they would already be useless.
He allowed his feet to propell him away from the tree that provoked too much of his useless emotions.
On the way to his room, he passed the sliding doors that guarded Renji's privacy.
Those doors left a slight opening, as if granting passerby permission to peep in.
It had not been his intention to invade the other's privacy. Accidentally in the moment, one of his eyes met with the opening of the sliding doors. He peered inside.
In the darkness, the other was curled up, asleep on the floor, hugging a certain precious material close to his chest.
He recognized the material as one of his lord's haori coats.
Sighing, he opened the door to walk into the room and closed the door soundlessly behind him again.
He approached the other. When he knelt down beside him, he saw two visibly shining streaks on his cheeks. Those were tear stains.
He remembered that the other did not shed a single tear during their leader's funeral.
Unable to contain himself, he sighed once more, silently taking off his own haori coat to cover the sleeping figure.
As he looked at his grown face, he thought once more of his lord's request for him to take care of the other.
As he looked at his mature face, he could not believe how long it had been since their first encounter.
When Renji first arrived, he was cautious about the possibility of the other posing as a threat to his master's safety. So he watched him, examined him, observed him timelessly even after his lord had already accepted the other into his care.
Ironically, when he kept his attention on the other, he soon grew to know him, understand him.
He saw that the Yanagi Renji that was different from the Yanagi Renji present before Yukimura Seiichi.
The Yanagi Renji presented before Yukimura Seiichi was calm, relaxed, gentle, and soft-spoken.
Yet, he would catch Renji during times when the other sat in solitude when their lord busied himself with clan business. That Yanagi Renji was mysterious, lonely, serious, and almost, ethereal. Timelessly, he saw the other open his eyes, gazing afar.
After he knew of Renji's unique ability, he understood the other's habit. While the other people saw the beautiful horizon, where the sun rose and set, Renji saw an entirely different scenery. From his usual sad expression, he knew, what the other saw was, perhaps, not at all a bright future.
Strangely, Renji's air of calm and solitude attracted him. They became friends. Deep down inside, he reckoned it was because they were much alike. They were both lonely souls.
In their companionship, they read together, drank tea together, and sometimes just sat in a comfortable silence.
Their relationship changed gradually. Not only their relationship, though.
As he and Renji grew closer, the closeness between his lord and Renji developed into something else too.
He instinctively knew, however, his relationship with Renji could not coexist with the relationship his lord constructed with Renji.
So he watched himself grow apart from the other. The time that they used to spend together declined. His lord entrusted him with more responsibilities. Ironically, it was only through work that he was able to forget about the other temporarily and obtain a small measure of peace.
Now, watching the other's sleeping face disquieted his heart again. If relationships were easily subject to change, then had their friendship changed and became something else during these years of distance?
The other's sleeping face did not provide him with an answer.
Yet, from the way his heart pounded desperately against his chest, he perceived the answer was already revealed to him.
...
When nothing was for sure, all he could do was wait.
He waited for the succession ceremony that followed the funeral a month later.
He waited for the right time to approach Renji again.
He was not a man of procrastination. But he was used to waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for life to return to normal. Waiting for himself to be ready. Waiting for the other to be ready.
He and Renji gradually held more conversations. They gradually caught up to the past.
Finally, after a year of waiting, he made his confession.
He told the other, in truth, he wished for them to share a relationship much like the one that his lord and the other had conceived.
Even though Renji had accepted his confession, acknowledging his wish, sometimes he still questioned its reality.
He still found the other standing under that particular cherry tree from time to time.
Like all the times before, he found himself unable to advance to stand beside the other under that tree as his lord had stood with the other many times in the past.
The fact that the cherry tree remained to be their personal spot was unchanged, regardless of the amount of time he spent waiting.
He understood, and he accepted the fact.
…
"One day, Seishun and Rikkai will face each other on the battlefield."
Genichirou remembered Renji's prophecy from a few years ago.
At that time, their clan and Seishun were already caught in stalemate.
Such was the situation when Yukimura Seiichi participated in the imperial council.
Such was the situation when Sanada Genichirou participated in the imperial council.
But now, his quarrels with Tezuka Kunimitsu had gotten to be quite problematic.
Finally, the fulfillment of Renji's previous prophecy came in the form of a letter Genichirou received one day.
It was the declaration of war from Seishun to Rikkai, from Tezuka Kunimitsu to Sanada Genichirou.
When he introduced the letter to the other, Renji read it with opened eyes.
The other's only answer, as he spoke in a monotonous voice, stating a fact, was: "Our chance at victory is slim."
The single statement was enough to deprive him of sleep for many nights.
He realized, they did not have much time left. The people of Rikkai… His clansmen… He and Renji… No one had much time.
The cherry blossoms blooming outside in the garden became the best reminder for the little time they had left. It was spring. The flowers were at the peak of their blossom. At the same time, they were slowly dying.
And they, like these flowers, were also at the peak of their youth. But how quickly, they are to meet their end. How soon.
His silent footsteps contradicted his heavy heart when he paced the veranda.
He visited Renji's room. He sat beside the other's sleeping figure.
It became a habit ever since his lord's funeral, he supposed.
Yet, never before did he want to touch the other as much as he desired now.
...
When nothing was for sure, all he could do was wait.
Yet, what if the outcome was already certain? Would he wait for the outcome to occur the way it was written in Fate's scenario?
No, he would not wait.
For Fate was the only thing he refused to wait for. Because he, Sanada Genichirou, was simply a stubborn man.
Renji's prophecy, as believable as it was, did not stop him from his usual heavy training.
Fate, as potent as it was, did not stop him from setting up his army.
And fear, as paralyzing as it was, did not stop him from planning and strategizing for battle.
Fifteen days after receiving Tezuka Kunimitsu's declaration of war, his messenger brought in updates on his enemy: The Seishun army was merely ten kilometers away.
The other's amber depths holding vast knowledge gazed afar.
Renji told him, "They will arrive soon. We will engage them in battle tomorrow."
Tomorrow, Tezuka Kunimitsu's men will arrive.
Tomorrow, Renji's prophecy will be fulfilled.
He stole a glance at the other beside him.
Then, after tomorrow, he will not be able to ever again behold the sight of his cherished companion.
…
Night.
Everything arose in the dark. Everything that was mysterious, mystical, unexplainable.
His heart was much like the night. There was something growing, something lurking within it. Something that he could not explain.
The only name he gave it was desire.
Desire. He felt it, stronger than ever, as he watched the other gracefully conduct their final tea ceremony, kneeling before him, within reach. The desire to touch the other was strong now. Too strong. If he did not have a grip on his hakama, he would have already reached out.
But he knew, such a gesture would only destroy the formality of the tea ceremony. Such a gesture would only humiliate the other who took pride in the elegance he refined after years of strict discipline.
So he restrained himself.
When the other finished whisking, he presented the concoction of foam and liquid before him.
Receiving the tea bowl, he nodded his thanks. He raised the vessel to his lips, taking small sips. As common courtesy, he left half of the initial amount inside for the other and placed the bowl back onto the mat between them.
Renji bowed his own gratitude, and drank quietly, like he before him.
He waited until his companion finished.
"If the end is near… Then all I want is to have no regrets…" He spoke with an amount of stiffness, as if he attempted to control the fluttering discomfort in his stomach. He focused all his attention on the other. "I want to ask you… Will you give yourself to me tonight?"
The other paused momentarily before answering.
"If that is your wish…" Renji smiled in full acceptance. Nowhere upon the other's face could he find the slightest hint of offense or shame. "Then, so be it."
The permission granted him let loose the desires he had been withholding all this time. He pulled the other up from his seat urgently, almost tripping on the tea utensils.
They rushed through the veranda, their uneven footsteps enacting tension's beat.
They could not lose any more time.
Without delay, they arrived at Renji's room.
He shut the door behind them a bit too loudly.
But he did not care.
He pressed the other against the paper door, pulling off both of their clothes. Never once did he detach their lips.
From the way Renji replied timidly to his kiss, Genichirou knew that it was the other's first time at such intimacy.
The feeling that he possessed the other entirely, overwhelmed him. As much as he told himself to go slow and go gentle on the other, his furious actions betrayed his tender considerations.
He pushed Renji down to the floor atop of all their discarded clothing. His hand busied itself in a blind search for the ointment the other usually kept on top of his little study table. Once he felt the cylinder, he grabbed it, popped off the top, scooped up a giant lump and manipulated it to better suit his needs. Then, he entered the other in one swift movement, causing the other let escape a low gasp in surprise.
His movements were quick and fierce. The darkness was soon full of their heavy sighs and uneven pants.
But he could not stop, as much as he knew his flame of desire could scorch the other.
He would not stop, as much as he knew his desperate tempo would overwhelm the other.
All he did was lean forward so that his chest brushed against the other's back, and his lips caressed the other's ear. He whispered words of apology. But he did not stop. He never stopped.
Because he had never felt so connected and belonging before.
Unity's fervor warmed him from loneliness's cold company.
...
Day again.
When the two of them dressed, helping each other put on their battle armor, they were dressing as warriors, as allies, as a leader and his vassal.
The tenderness from the night before was left behind in their disheveled covers and soiled clothing. And the rest of his passion was buried in a secret chamber of his heart.
But, deep down inside, when he stole a glance at the other as they dressed, he wondered if it was the connection that they have established that gave him so much courage and confidence to put on his warrior's stoic appearance.
…
The plains outside of town that was once a vast playground for children became a battlefield.
Rikkai faced Seishun in battle there.
Rikkai fought with traditional swords and spears, bows and arrows, and defended themselves with armor made of the strongest metals and leathers.
While, Seishun fought with newly imported rifles and bayonets, guns and cannons, and defended themselves with the strongest of offense.
Life was as fragile as the cherry blossoms in spring. The wind blew. And the petals were pulled from their place on the flower. And soon, the entire flower is stripped off the branch.
The warriors around them were shot once. Their men were knocked off their horses. They got back onto their feet and continued attacking. Yet, what happens when the bullets pierced their bodies twice, three times, four times, and on?
Like fragile cherry blossom petals, they fall to the floor, dead.
When the entirety of their own army fell, they felt most fortunate to be the last ones alive on the battlefield. They survived with light scrapes and shallow cuts.
Yet, they both knew, they would not live on cowardly while the rest of their clansmen's lives were snatched from them.
With the remaining strength left in their war-tattered bodies, they assisted each other in suicide.
As they knelt before one another like they have done the previous night during the tea ceremony, they focused their entire attention upon one another.
The sound of their enemy's Gatling guns was faraway.
Their enemy was nonexistent.
The remaining moment of their lives, belonged only to them, he and Renji.
Renji buried his sharp weapon into his abdomen. He, in turn, thrust the knife he hid in his belt into the other's chest, impaling his heart.
Renji killed him. He killed Renji.
And how ironic it was, when the two of them failed in eliminating their enemies, succeeded in killing their beloved.
The last image he captured with his sight was the other's smiling face as he opened those mesmerizing, clean amber eyes and the cherry blossoms waving them farewell in the wind.
Renji crumbled to the ground, ever so slowly, like a single petal fluttering down and down.
He smiled too, heart satisfied.
As he laid down next to the other, a rain of flowers descended upon them.
Then he closed his eyes and saw no more.
Such was a warrior's end. Such was a warrior's ideal end.
END NOTES:
Hana no Bokutachi translates to "we who are flowers." A direct metaphor.
Yukimura's poem refers to the poem of Saigyo (1118-1190): 願はくは / 花の下にて / 春死なん / その如月の / 望月のころ.
"Like these blossoms, we are all dying..." and "They say the perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life." Do these quotes sound familiar to you? Yes, I did borrow them from Katsumoto from The Last Samurai.
While Rikkai can be seen paralleling Katsumoto's men, and Seishun paralleling Omura's party, please keep in mind that neither side is entirely good or entirely bad. It is just that everyone has an ideal. Everyone has a reason to fight. And it would be most unfair to judge those who are different from us.
Even though all the main characters are dead by the end of this fic, I will not call this story tragic. I just listened to 3 Doors Down's "Let Me Go." I think, death is not what makes love tragic. It is misunderstanding, it is separation, it is indifference that make love the tragedy that it may be. I think Yukimura, Sanada, and Yanagi are all fortunate people in this story. For, they all understood the importance of time, and they all treasured their love for each other.
I seem to have established a common ground for Yukimura and Yanagi's relationship. In the fics I write them in, they always seem to be involved in a platonic relationship. One cannot define their relationship truly as romance, nor could one say that it is only friendship between them. I think, I like the feel of that.
Special Recommendation: Amberlee's "A Sheathless Blade." It was thanks to this fanfic that I was able to compose Sanada's part to this fic. (PS The above title is a Samurai 7 fanfic)