Note: Yasakani is Iori Yagami's counterpart
Under the soft light of the moon, Yasakani allowed himself to be aloof in the courtyard of the clan house. It wasn't often that he chose to visit the Kagura Estate. However, with such formalities, his presence was something that just could not be substituted. It was not that he didn't want to be with his cousins, it was just that his focus lay elsewhere. If anything, more than anything, he wanted to be alone under the cover of a willow. Under the cover of a willow, stringing out a few melodies on his koto. Today was not going to be one of those nights. Those nights filled with wistful music.
His sword hung at his side, the lacquered wood of his scabbard gleaming a brilliant white from the moonlight. The moon was high overhead, a full body of white to glow as brilliant as the whitest lotus lily. His crimson eyes gazed up at the moon longingly, red against white. Often times the moon was the only companion whose presence he was comfortable in. The crescent insignia stitched onto the back of his kimono, white against red, only further tied his destiny to that of the moon. This crescent insignia was more than just a fashion statement. It was very near and dear to him. In fact, it was his family crescent that had been established during the legendary War of the Waning Moon, countless winters ago. His family wore it with pride, as did he, the only heir to the future of clan.
Perhaps it was, because he bore such a heavy responsibility to continue the line of his clan, that he felt the need to wander off into the beautiful Japanese countryside all by himself. He was prone to admiring the beauty of nature, much like his father. How his parents and servants wished for him to be a hero, a paragon like the ancestors before him. Power. Pride. Prestige. None of that truly mattered to him. They seemed so fleeting. Momentary tastes of status that, in the end, die along with the person they were attached to. His mother sometimes regretted having enlisted elder Bhikkhus in supplementing his education. In her quest to make him into a proper heir, she had only further made him sure of his distaste for material aspirations.
He was not ungrateful for his upbringing, having traveled so often he had come across those who were much less fortunate than him. His travels were also a great source of education for him, exposing him to the workings of the world outside his household. The more he saw, the further his mania for traveling became. How his mother wished she had never allowed him to stray far from the household. But if he listened so obediently to her, then he would not be a true Yasakani, now would he?
His current thoughts about his household and clan faded from focus, as his gaze shifted to the stars. In his youth, astronomy had always piqued his interest. However, this interest was not a scientific one, but an interest befitting of a poet. The stars were always with the moon. The moon was always with the stars. This is how the laws of nature deemed it so, and yet somehow he could never shake off the feeling that he too was missing his own stars. What exactly were stars? Faint dreams? Desires? Questions? Why did it matter so much? He wrote poetry about it, more to answer the questions himself than to ask anyone else.
Taking out a piece of paper from the inner folds of his red kimono, he unfurled the crumpled work. It was marked with his handwriting, his favorite poem to read to himself when things got a little too confusing for him. Poetry helped clear his thoughts, washing away the ichor of mania and doubt. His eyes scanned each word, making them much more real in his mind's eye. However in the middle of his reading, his eyes caught sight of a much more interesting view.
From his position on top of a small bridge overlooking an artificial pond, he could see that the window to the bathhouse was open. Usually he himself would open it while he bathed, to take in the sight of the moon. It seemed that someone else had the same interests as he did. He could see very clearly, the figure of a woman reclining against the massive wooden tub of the bath house. Her pink hair dripping with beads of clear, shimmering water. The lovely form of her body was enveloped in a soft white haze, steam covering her indecency. Her eyes were peering through the window, to the night sky above. Those wonderful pink eyes, brighter than any star, and yet more gentle than cherry blossoms, captivated him to no end. He lost himself in staring at her eyes, quite unaware of the compromising situation he was in.
Those eyes suddenly shifted to him, pink eyes locked with red ones. They had a moment of discovery, a smile flashed across her face. They were familiar to each other. The meeting of their gazes only confirmed mutual suspicions. They had finally found each other. For a moment, the heavens themselves seem to freeze in reverence for this moment. Two souls entwined in fate, unbeknownst to even themselves. They sat there staring at each other, for what seemed to be forever. This moment, this delicate silence was quickly destroyed.
"WWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
The woman yelled in embarrassment. She had realized that she was naked and a stranger was peeping on her, never mind the fact that he was the one that she had fervently been searching for. She leapt at the shutters and closed them tight. Yasakani came to his senses and was not without haste himself. He took off running from the bridge, running all the way back to the room reserved for him at the estate. The only hint that he was ever on that bridge that night was the floating piece of crumpled paper that sailed gently on the lake surface. Besides Yasakani, the moon would also read his poetry. Now the moon could see the handwriting, painted carefully against the worn state of the paper.
Stars of shining flame
Moon yearning for their presence
The allure of a smile