Quick thing I wrote before class. Not my best work, but wanted to get the idea out of my head. Italics represent thoughts.
Pavane: A slow and grave kind of processional dance common in 16th century Europe, with counterpoint or homophonic accompaniment, advancing and retreating steps, and a slow duple metre.
Why do I do this? Kaiji asked himself for the thousandth time as he turned, stepping into another passage. The walls were covered in moss, though none too recently. There was a damp feel to the prison, which had no windows or outside lights. The lanterns cast slow, flowing shadows into every corner, and a makeshift pinewood platform covered the stone floors of the upper halls in a failed attempt to put an end to the mud drowning the bottom of the corridors. It didn't look solid.
Kazuya had been within his castle-palace until a few days ago, he was sure. There wasn't any sign of him in the city for some time, however. Not in the palace or in any known hiding spot. As for the others, his guards, there was no telling. Some prince, falling captured to a rebellious army faction like that.
Why would anyone want to do this? Kaiji plunged through the cave, bare feet meandering and stepping on the slush, the wet wood, the mud, breath rasping in his chest, blood thumping in his head. He stumbled and sprawled onto his right, nearly fell through a collapsed section of the makeshift pinewood platform, laid there panting, peering at the mud-filled below through the broken floor. Kaiji crept slowly onto his feet, trying to stay quiet. A floorboard creaked and he snapped around. He let out a breath. Nothing, he was still completely alone.
Kaiji should've been trying to get away from the province, from the capital, but the rebels were all around. He could see them marching between cities, moving into areas previously under the control of the Hyodou dynasty under the cheers of the citizens and locals. Everything sounded, smelled, like an oncoming civil war, and he had no intention to get caught up in the midst of it.
He took a step forwards, peered again around him again, and ran. First, the confident step of his right foot, then the thump of his left foot as it pushed him forward. Step, thump, swish. That was the rhythm of his running, accompanied only by sudden turns. The dirty monotony of the area was broken from time to time by lit torches and heavy doors, studded in iron. On some other occasions, by muffled cries of pain coming from behind them. Interrogation halls. On others, by an abandoned sword, resting its hilt against the walls. The wooden platform covering the floor came to an end, leaving only the dirty floor below.
Why would I want to do this? Kaiji knew the heavy iron-studded doors slowly being left behind would likely not be opened by anyone. He had timed his entrance after all, he had ensured he wouldn't be suspected. If the fort atop was being attacked by Hyodou's men, barely any soldiers would be left within the prison halls below. Even if filled with political prisoners.
It didn't take long to figure out that peace wasn't likely. The rebel factions were too large, too passionate, too filled with grudges. The conflict had been coming since long ago, and it was felt amongst the people. It wasn't a matter that could be resolved by one or two changes to laws, or by the lowering of some taxes. There'd be blood. Only when either the rebels or the Hyodou dynasty and their supporters had been hanged in Teai's capital would everything end.
He couldn't blame them, too.
The Hyodou dynasty was merciless. Entirely made up of devils. Yet here he was. Attempting to rescue the son of the man which had been the bane of the region for years. The only heir of the warlord which had expanded the territory far and wide, enslaved and destroyed so many throughout the years. The man which had brought him hell, and had given him a fair share of it personally too. A man with no trace of humanity, a demon, just like his father. Yet here he was, against all reason, refusing to leave him to suffer the justice of the rebellion.
He could hear fighting going on above, feel the stones hurled towards the fort's walls by the war machines. It wouldn't be enough to bring the rebels down, let along siege the place, but it was a good enough distraction.
He just had to make his way to Kazuya's cell before it ended.
It should be close, somewhere within the depths of the unsightly prison. There were enough lanterns around, enough darkness and doors, enough mud. He was their most important prisoner, a golden ticket to any negotiation. He wouldn't be anywhere, and certainly not in one of the more luxurious halls of the fort. He didn't deserve that. The cold and stink of the lower prisons was the only place for someone of his position, for someone like him. Windows and sunlight too good, too much of a kindness. Simply not useful in extracting information and vengeance.
Kaiji's feet felt numb, cold. It was painful to keep taking steps forwards, what with having broken his only pair of boots whilst infiltrating the area. The slush and mud hadn't been kind, nor had the bare stone on the aboveground. He frowned. Even in his light armour, bare feet would ruin whatever other protection he had chosen to wear if a guard caught him.
He was still frowning, ever so faintly, when he reached a last door. It was unprotected, only secured with a lock. An empty wooden chair sat to a side. Too small to be totally comfortable for anyone who decided to sit down on it.
Kaiji shuffled to it, taking out six lock picks from a pocket in a swift movement. He crouched, inserting the first and moved it around until he heard the tell-tale sound of it breaking. He took it out, and inserted another. He calmed his breath, slowed it down. Concentrate, you need to get this done soon. Blood still pulsed against his ears from all the running, not allowing him to hear completely the other sounds surrounding him. Neither those made by other prisoners nor of the fighting still likely going on above.
Clack. Kaiji smiled as the lock opened and fell onto the floor. He slipped inside.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. It stinks. He looked around. The ceiling was too low, walls too close together for comfort, and the room too dark to see clearly. A grubby grey box with no windows and not a single lit torch inside. Only the light from the corridor which filtered inside revealed the room for what it was. Damp was creeping out of the corners, speckled with black mould. Mud flowed from the hall outside, though not quite managing to cover the whole room and not as thick. Cold crept through the air.
To a side, a long bloodstain someone had tried to scrub off a wall, though not nearly enough. Next to it was a wooden table, bolted to firmly the floor and flanked by two empty chairs. Chains hanged from the walls, some more rusted than others, and hanging from one of them, with his feet barely and uncomfortably reaching the floor, Kazuya. Kaiji's frown deepened, what a strange sight.
His arms were stretched, with red marks on his wrists visible even in the dim light. He was still, giving no signs of wakefulness. His quick, muffled breathing being the only thing which confirmed him alive. Upon closer inspection, Kaiji could see some visible scars and wounds on his torso. Some were recent, either barely healed or roughly patched together to prevent bleeding. Others seemed older, the skin looking stretched and the cut clean, precise. His nose was broken, with marks of dried blood below it. He stepped towards the unconscious man. It was cold down here, but he was sweating. As he should be.
Kaiji crouched, staring in confusion at the other man's face. The Kazuya he knew had dead eyes and a seemingly permanent, confident smile and expressions which screamed bad intentions. This one looked frail and had a thin scowl. He was dressed in expensive robes he remembered seeing him wearing within his palace, its bright colours now dull and dirty, tattered. His feet, bare, with cracked soles.
He extended his arm, placing two of his fingers on Kazuya's neck, and he waited. A pulse, he's alive. Very well.
Kaiji got up and reached again for his pockets, pulling out a small key, and reached for the chains. Click. The chains became loose and Kazuya's body thumped against the ground, falling straight into the mud. Dulled robes immediately got stained with it, but there was no reaction.
Kaiji sighed, reaching for the man. "You're free again," he remarked, pulling him up. He wrapped one of Kazuya's arms around his shoulders, making sure to sustain his weight. He likely wouldn't be awake for a couple more hours at best, and even then, he didn't have any time to waste. He had to get out of the prison and as far away from the fort as possible. Get back to his camp before the night set back in and outside temperatures dropped low.
He took a step towards the bolted door, whilst dragging Kazuya alongside him. His clothes were ruined, but his breath had smoothed down, becoming slower. The scars and marks around his wrists were still visible. It'll roughen up once it's healed, leave marks and become insensitive. He knew from experience, after all. Kazuya's body radiated warmth, though, hinting at a fever and diverting his attention away from his task. He tried concentrating on the passages ahead for a while, but it was too distracting. The Kazuya he knew had acted as if a God. Yet here he was, scarred, unconscious, and feverish.
His head bobbed slowly as Kaiji walked forward, coming to settle on his left shoulder for some brief seconds before moving off. Kaiji breathed out slowly, closing his eyes. Focus, he willed himself. He took another step forward.
Two hours passed by the time he finally reached the camp he had set up beforehand. It was hidden strategically amidst the thick woods, out of the sight of any potential enemies. Suitably protected from any potential arrows and weapons by some nearby stones and branches which conveniently hid away the small fur tent he had been travelling with. The sky was clouded and dark. Night time.
Kaiji lit up a fire and set up some furs within the tent, making sure to lay Kazuya down atop of them close enough to the fire. He couldn't risk having him in the cold. Getting up, he reached for a backpack and looked for bandages, deciding to set himself to the task of tending to the heir's wounds as soon as possible and properly. Snow started falling outside of the tent, everything remaining quiet aside from the distant shouts of men. Kaiji moved away, placing the bandages back into his backpack. No major wounds, aside from a possible broken finger or two. Nothing which seems life threatening.
Kazuya's expression had changed to be more peaceful ever since finding him inside the cell. His breath was slightly more composed, though the nose still broken. Kaiji let himself breathe out and relax at last, setting himself down on a log in between the fire and Kazuya. The flames sparked, giving off a warm and welcome heat.
Tomorrow would be a long day that'd likely involve travelling back to wherever Kazuya's father currently was at, and today had already been long enough. Kaiji's feet were still numb and sore. Dirty and covered with solidified mud. His muscles would likely ache more in a few hours' time. Snow was falling on him, nestling on his hair. More would fall soon too. Still, he didn't dare get closer to Kazuya. His warmth was too distracting, too noticeable. The man too unpredictable. He'd rather avoid close proximity. Particularly if it meant risking him awaken whilst too close by.
Still, Kazuya will likely still be asleep for a few more hours and snow will start piling up soon. He got up, shifted closer to Kazuya, and sat himself down on some of the furs, body facing the fire. He was fairly close, enough to have his left hand brush against Kazuya's right.
Kaiji's eyes widened at the contact. The skin was surprisingly soft and smooth, without a single sign of callous hands. As befitted a noble. He let his hand linger and eventually rested it on top of Kazuya's, letting his thumb brush against his. Something he'd never, under any circumstances, absolutely do if the man were awake. He had his pride after all, or whatever was left of it. No matter, he'll never know.
He'd make sure he didn't. It'd be something that would hint away too many things, and Kazuya was anything but unobservant. He couldn't afford giving Kazuya any more power over him. Kaiji sighed, lying down. The wind had picked up, and snow still fell outside. The fire burnt brightly.
Perhaps… Kaiji looked over and observed Kazuya, making sure to kick himself mentally as soon as he felt his heart skip a beat. He looked at the log outside of the tent. He wanted to move away, but felt oddly afraid of doing so. Figuring out the situation wasn't likely to change anytime soon, he put his head on Kazuya's shoulder. Was this the same demon he had known? The same cruel and twisted man which ruled over his subjects without mercy of any kind? It couldn't be.
He breathed out slowly. Silence. A calm atmosphere had settled around him, and no more sounds of distant fighting could be heard. Just the wind blowing outside, and the cackle of the fire. He breathed in, letting tranquillity seep through him as moments passed. Kaiji began to feel tired, sleep weighing his eyelids down with the heat of the man beside him, his rhythmic and gentle heartbeat. His mind felt sluggish. He shifted, inclining his body so he could get a better look at the prince, and on impulse, without really thinking about it, kissed gently his lips. Moving away, he noticed a slight tingle going through his lips as well as a warm and deep feeling sparking in his chest for a second.
Kazuya suddenly turned to his side, letting out a groan. Kaiji jerked himself away from him, staring in disbelief, and dragged himself back several steps. He reached the edge of the tent again, heart racing and seconds crawling by slowly. He looked for any signs of wakefulness in Kazuya.
Nothing, it was nothing. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his head completely. Still, he felt his heart skip a beat and his face go scarlet. He clutched one of the furs atop the floor with both hands, nervous, and let out a shaky breath. No, I can't afford this, not with him. I will not be hunted.
Horribly wrong! All of this was horribly wrong. Kaiji quickly stood up, stumbling a few steps back and away from the younger man as he raised a hand to his lips. Thoughts stirred suddenly in his mind. His heart was beating wildly, and never would he have expected his body to react in that way. He willed himself to stand up and walk back towards the fire, sitting in front of it as soon as he was close enough. He reached for some nearby wood, feeding it into the fire. Has Kazuya planned all of this? He frowned. No, impossible.
Trying to regain his composure, Kaiji exhaled several times. Snow was falling on him again. He looked around, eventually glancing back at the man. Kazuya looked like he hadn't noticed what had just happened. He felt a sudden urge to leave and walk away, a need to put more distance between them. He sighed and reached for another piece of wood. The tingle on his lips had started to fade away, but the same couldn't be said for anything else. His face felt hot and blood pulsed in his ears, though not as badly as before. He shook his head. I'm overthinking this.
Behind him, Kazuya shifted in his sleep, eyes cracking open.