A/N: Hello everyone! I couldn't help but write another Kiro fic, and of course it's AU! I must warn that this fic a not a fluff/smut fest-unlike my usual stuff lol! It's a story I had to do. It has a load of different faucets but generally it's a dramatic tale.
I really hope there are still some Kiro fans out there that might enjoy this fic which is set during the late 1800's Japan as the country changed over to a new government system. Of course I'm sure there are some inaccuracies but I tried my best with loads of research. I actually wrote a fic about something similar back in the day when I had no idea what yaoi was lol! And one day I came across my fic and thought it would make a great K and Hiro fic! This is dedicated to a fishy friend of mine, who inspires me everyday and keeps my love for Kiro alive. Love you!
And so here it is.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or K and Hiro and make no profit from this story.
The General and the Assassin – Chapter 1
Assassin
The sun setting in the west mimicked the colour of spilled blood as it lay low on a crimson horizon like the bodies of many dead warriors that lay on the ground. Across this reddened sky rose tendrils of acrid black smoke, remnants of a battle recently fought. Gone was the ear-shattering crack of gunfire and charging bellows of men fighting for their lives and values. Now only the wind carried a soft tune as it rustled through the tall grass and trees. The land was jarringly still now, bringing with it a false promise of serenity like the twilight that was quickly approaching.
The quiet after the storm...
Movement stirred over the battleground of those who had survived. Some of the Sugawara clan and its supporters had managed to run for it and were no longer in sight. The ones left on the wide grassy plains were weary and ragged, but they were not men considered the victors, not in the eyes of the person that watched them, no... They were men considered to be the enemy.
Dozens of men dressed in the khaki green uniforms of the Imperial Japanese Army. Their silver buttons gleamed as if reflecting the moon, rows of tiny moons. However, some buttons were missing from their stained and torn uniforms. After such a fierce battle of gun and sword, of cannon and cavalry, it is to be expected—the loss of a uniform button, the loss of one's soul, and the loss of one's humanity. In such a short time so much had been lost.
And standing out amongst all this loss was an even bigger one...
General K Winchester.
In the distance, a tall man sat upon his legendary horse, Midnight, named for its shinning black coat and imposing stock. There sat the contrary General with a nameless expression on his fair face, his hands clutching a long rifle. That emblem blonde hair of his sailed on the wind like a banner declaring his presence with a vengeance, like a flag marking territory. It was just as long and as splendid as the rumours said and it gave him away instantly. Even without ever seeing him in person before the assassin knew who the man was. There wasn't a single button missing from his unmarred, high-ranking uniform and he probably didn't have any soul left to lose either.
Monsters didn't have souls.
Just the sight of him filled the cloaked assassin, who was hiding in the trees, with pure hatred.
This man, this "General" needed to die tonight. He would die for being a ruthless murderer of women and children. He would die for the pillaging of small villages he came across and destroyed with his army, burning their homes and stealing their money. He was an intruder in this country; he did not belong here, poking his nose into matters that weren't his to bother with. It was said that the foreigner was the bringer of mayhem and destruction. People said that the minds around him got warped into his ideologies. Thus, they followed him unquestionably. And it was said that he led his men into battle for the pure joy of it, for the thrill of violence. Nobody knew where this foreign man came from and how he came to the position he now held—the assassin never overheard those discussions. The General's origins were a real mystery.
All the cloaked figure knew was that by killing this man, there would be freedom and peace. There would be love.
Night had fallen and twilight took over. With it came the eerie calm of darkness. All impurities were discreetly hidden and replaced by stars and a full, glowing moon. The grassy plains, surrounded by rocky and gently sloping hills where the battle had taken place, were now swallowed up by shadow.
It would seem as if no battle had ever taken place nearby. That, it was just another moment lost to time.
The enemy soldiers had moved to their camp long ago, a temporary settlement consisting of at least twenty khaki canvas tents. At this hour, only a handful of men moved about patrolling the area armed with their long rifles and swords at their hip. The assassin had waited hours as the men settled down after drinking to celebrate their victory or to tend to their wounded.
By now the moon was on the other side of the night sky.
The assassin began to move, slipping through the night like a creature of darkness, coming closer to the enemy camp. The target was inside the largest tent, clearly noted by its flying red banners and decorated with crests splashed with stylized kanji. It was guarded by one sentinel young man armed with his rifle and sword also. However, stealth won the upper hand as the assassin swiftly came up behind the guard and clamped a damp cloth over his mouth and nose.
In seconds, the momentarily alarmed guard, his sound of surprise muffled, went limp and slumped to the ground. The figure hidden under a hooded cloak turned around to enter the tent when a voice sounded from within.
"No!" a man cried loudly, desperately. It was followed by a sound almost like that of a strangled sob.
The assassin halted, a hand poised in midair at the front flap of the tent.
It was coming from General K Winchester.
"Please! Nooo... Not them, please... not them..."
The heart inside the chest of the assassin pounded fiercely. Was the General still awake at this deep end of the night?
There really was no time to wait and find out. A dagger was removed from a sheath inside the folds of the assassin's clothes, close to a katana.
Inside the tent a single lantern burned at one end atop of a small folding table, casting small creepy shadows on the peaked ceiling above. To the left lay a rifle propped against a bench with a coat spread over the top. The coat bared the yellow insignia of a three star Imperial Japanese General. And in the middle of the tent, on a low raised cot, lay the General himself with one arm hanging off the side nearly touching an empty saké bowl close to his fingers.
At first glance one could not help but note the striking countenance of the General, even as he slept. His lofty frame granted him too long for his cot seeing as his feet dangled over the end. He was a big man—remarkably firm and lean with muscle. The most prominent feature was his androgynous face, perfectly angular, symmetrical, with fair, thick lashes resting on the crests of his cheeks. That visage was amiably framed by bangs of lustrous honey blonde hair.
He appeared to be fast asleep.
The assassin took a much relieved breath. It would seem as though the man was having a nightmare as his eyes shifted frantically behind closed lids. His handsome face was knotted with worry, one could even say, he seemed scared of something that loomed behind his eyes. His fine blonde brows were stitched together and his jaw appeared clenched, teeth gritted.
The sight caused the figure to feel a certain hesitation. What sort of nightmares could possibly haunt such a ruthless man? The assassin imagined it was more like a fight with inner demons, perhaps the General fought even in his sleep. But whatever it was those feeble thoughts were tossed aside as quickly as they had come. To come this far and do nothing was not an even an option.
The hooded figured took a few steps closer, standing over the General's sleeping form. The assassin held the dagger out, clutching the thick golden hilt with both hands.
"This is for my father... for my clan," whispered the assassin heatedly and plunged a dagger straight at the sleeping man's heart.
Unexpectedly, General Winchester's hands sprung out, gripping the wrists of the assassin. He pushed against them. A darkened pair of wild blue eyes snapped open. The assassin gasped in shock at how alert this man's instincts were—had he been faking sleep? The tip of the blade pricked the man's skin drawing a small bead of blood to stain his white shirt, creating a tiny crimson flower beneath.
There was a flurry of action. The General and his attacker struggled briefly.
The assassin proved to be quick and mildly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but the General was much more experienced, it would seem, and had turned the tables on his attacker. The assassin withdrew a sword, a long silver katana with a crested kashira (butt cap) at the end of the hilt with dark grey handle-wrapping, but the General quickly disarmed him of it. It fell to the ground with a clatter.
Before the assassin knew it, the dagger was pressed against their own throat.
General K yanked the hood off the person smaller than himself and found it ultimately difficult to hide his disbelief as a head of long auburn hair fell over the arm he had wrapped around the assassin's neck. He immediately loosened his grip, removing the blade from the assassin's undulating throat and spun them around.
He found himself gazing at an attractive young man, but this younger man, wearing dark coloured hakama and kisode under his heavy black cloak, watched him back with a deep hatred. There was malice in those eyes, with full intention to kill. And not for a second did those determined eyes leave his.
The pounding of footsteps came upon the General's tent and a handful of soldiers scrambled inside, hands on the hilts of their swords, ready for action. For a moment they stood agape at the scene they stumbled upon. The General with a dagger in his hand and an ominous young Japanese man dressed in a black cloak and a lone katana lying on the ground near their feet.
"General K Winchester, sir! We came at the first sign of trouble," hollered a soldier quickly and added cautiously, "Although... it appears you have the situation under control."
The group of the soldiers looked on, unsure what to do.
Only, the General began to laugh. He laughed loud and boisterously.
It surprised the assassin even more than the men.
"So it would seem, Sergeant Yamato," General Winchester said with mirth, his voice deep and rich and full of incredulousness. "I mean, just look at this here," he said and reached over, lifting the assassin's chin up between his fingers under whimsical scrutiny. "Just look at the cute young man that has come to take my life. HA!"
The stoic faces of the men in the room slowly broke into smiles and amusement.
The assassin was struck with disbelief and shame at the mocking lilt. This was not the kind of scene he'd ever imagined if caught by Imperial Japanese Army soldiers. It also angered him.
"Whoever he is, he managed to knock out Miki-san with the use of some toxin, sir," someone else enlightened. "But it's already beginning to wear off."
The General flashed his eyes on his would-be redheaded executioner again. "Well, I see." He sounded so shocked. "Then Miki-san should have been better prepared. No matter, this boy will pay for that."
"Do you think he's Akakage?" someone dared.
The Akakage, the Red Shadow, was a rumoured secret organization dedicated to raising and training perfect killers from birth. But no one really knew of their lineage and no one knew where to find them.
"If this were a member of the Akakage, then I'll pour every ounce of my saké on the dirt right now," theorized General Winchester with a delighted, almost playful snort.
The group in the room chuckled at the joke.
The young assassin yanked his chin haughtily away from the General's firm grip. He held his head high with pride, even though he was unsure what to make of this jovial scene. Was this the same group of men he'd seen only hours ago? Surely not!
The large blonde General returned his eyes to the intruder again. "So, since you are not a bred and born killer, tell me who you are and who sent you," he demanded, making use of the dagger in his hand. He flashed it in warning in front of the young man's face.
The redhead felt his knees weaken against his will. He tried to hold tightly to his strength, but the General indeed made him numb with fear. He lifted his eyes to meet the General's, expecting to find amused, taunting blue eyes glinting with lantern light. Only much to his surprise, he saw eyes that were windows to a deep sadness. They had become so serious.
"I am Takatsuji Hiroshi of the Sugawara clan, son of Takatsuji Sadato."
There were immediate loud gasps from the soldiers inside the tent. The men all began to murmur frantically.
General K told them to shut up.
The young warrior forced himself not to show his fear as the General once more brought the tip of the blade to his throat—inside his heart threatened to explode.
"Why should I believe what you say is true?" asked the General and warned, "Do not mess in these matters, boy, if you know what's good for you. If you are just some vigilante thinking he can make a name for himself, think again."
So the General does not deny his malevolence. But then, why hasn't he just killed me already? The assassin wondered. "If you don't believe me then look at the handle of the dagger or on my katana. There's my family crest—see for yourself."
Narrowing his eyes, the General removed the tip of the dagger from Hiroshi's throat and turned it around in his hand. To his astonishment there was indeed the Sugawara family crest, a stylized nightshade flower. A soldier in the tent also retrieved the katana from the ground, holding it upside down as he inspected the hilt. A nightshade crest was there also.
"It's the same, sir," the soldier said.
The General raised an eyebrow. "Nightshade symbolizes death. I've always found it ironic that the Sugawara clan has chosen this as its crest. How can anyone taunt death so boldly?" the General wondered, sounding completely baffled.
Murmuring among the soldiers in the room grew to a frantic height again.
"Lord Sadato has really sent his son!" exclaimed one of them. They seemed utterly horrified. "Will the warlord stop at nothing? This has to be a joke."
"Has he got no pride?" spoke another.
"Disgraceful."
Warlord...? Hiroshi was instantly incensed and shouted, his dark eyebrows knotted, "How dare you speak of disgrace when it is you that disgraces us! Murderers!"
A few men unsheathed their swords at that.
"Mind your tongue, brat!" one of the soldiers threatened.
"How dare you stand there and speak like that," someone else said with disproval. "It is your family that does the murdering."
General K was silent for a moment as he studied the young man and considered his allegations.
He scoffed. "What is this nonsense you spew? Who has educated you in the politics of this conflict?" he asked coldly. "You've probably had your daddy's servants wiping your ass for the last seventeen years, right? You are about seventeen, are you not?"
A few of the soldiers in the room snickered evilly at that.
Hiroshi scowled and spat at K's feet. The snickering of the soldiers stopped instantly. Instead they held their breaths, looking back and forth between the General and the assassin.
The room grew chilly and tense.
"I am twenty-two," the redhead muttered into the hush. Hiroshi did not understand why the General became amused again by that. The foreign man barked out another laugh so Hiroshi tried to defend himself. "There is nothing wrong with my upbringing. I know exactly what kind of man you are and what your army stands for."
"Is that so?" murmured the General. "The warlord's son himself here to play the part of assassin, I find that very incredulous. What is Sadato playing at?" For a moment the tall blonde stood there staring at Hiroshi with pure bewilderment, his light white shirt stained with a bloom of blood. He looked dishevelled with the top three buttons of his shirt undone and hanging loosely out of his dark pants. There was even a pair of woolly socks on his feet.
Hiroshi shifted his eyes aside in a moment of bashfulness under such raw scrutiny of the man that stared at him. Against his will Hiroshi felt heat rise to his face.
"Did you think that by killing me you could end the conflict?" K questioned.
Silence.
"Do you think that is all it takes to stop it? How can Sadato send his inexperienced son to commit such a deed? Is it for honour? " the General asked Hiroshi fervently.
Silence.
"You really don't have to say anything. No matter what, I've sworn to bring down that warlord—your father—and dismantle his armies. I've sworn to do so with my life. And I will!" the General burst with emotion suddenly thick on his voice. "Nothing will stop me, to do you understand? Nothing...!"
"The Sugawara will never lay down their swords!" hissed the redhead in reply.
General Winchester opened his mouth to throw a heated retort back but was struck by a pair of grey eyes that froze him on the spot. The young man's face was contorted by such anger that it somehow made him even more beautiful than he was before.
The General was rendered speechless.
In that brief moment of hesitation, Hiroshi drove his elbow into the side of the General's ribcage and bolted past the soldiers.
Doubled over and groaning, K groused, "After him!"
Hiroshi ran with every ounce of his will, dodging the men that were hot on his heels. He ran through a maze of alleyways between tents and eventually back out onto the grassy fields. He aimed for the tree-covered hill from which he came, the place he'd watched the battle earlier.
Only he wasn't using his wits. He was running uphill! Shit!
The shouts of the men were getting louder and adrenaline coursed through Hiroshi's veins like cold wet steel. He pushed himself even harder; thinking of how he'd only dishonour his father more if he were caught. A heavy weight pulled at his heart. He felt like he'd made little distance when the distinct sound of galloping hooves came loud and fast. Before Hiroshi knew it, he was lifted off his feet and strewn over a rider's firm lap—right over the lap of General K Winchester himself.
"Geesh! What a pain in the ass you are," he complained with a guffaw. "You wake me up early, you make me saddle my horse and then you make me chase you."
Hiroshi felt mortified. The General was making a spectacle of him in front of his entire garrison. What would they do to him now? They'd probably shoot him or torture him in some mad, horrific way. And now that they knew he was Sadato's son, the torture would only be worse.
The ride back to camp was quick but not painless, at least not for Hiroshi's pride. They came to a stop and the General tossed Hiroshi off his horse like a large sack of rice. The young man landed hard on the ground with a grunt, only to be roughly grabbed up by two other men who held him by his arms.
"Put him in that tent and tie him up," ordered the General distantly.
Hearing this, Hiroshi began to struggle with his captives, "One day I'll rip your throat out, General! I will bring you down and my family will be free from your reign of terror!"
"On second thought," the General said calmly, "Why not gag him as well." He flashed the warlord's son his most charming smile.
Hiroshi swore loudly until someone tied a cloth around his mouth, his ongoing curses and cries were subdued and unclear.
"Send word to Marshal Uesugi, tell him we've captured Sadato's son and will be bringing him before the council. They can decide what to do with him. Tell him it will take about ten days to reach Tokyo. We'll be leaving in the morning." General K said.
Once more the General looked at Hiroshi, but thoughtfully this time. "It's a shame that you'll probably be boiled alive for this crime," he informed cruelly before nudging his horse and trotting away.
Hiroshi's eyes went wide with terror as he watched the General leave.
Two men dragged Hiroshi inside the nearby tent where they bound him up by this wrists and ankles. He had nothing but the hard, cold ground to sit on.
"Don't try anything foolish," one of them warned, sounding much too happy that he was tying up Lord Takatsuji Sadato's son. "You know you could be very useful to us—maybe you won't get put to death if you cooperate."
"Your war will end, Sadato will be stopped and it's only a matter of time before there is peace and prosperity again for everyone. And I'll be able to see my family again," the other man explained with hope in his voice.
Hiroshi starred at them in bafflement.
Both men turned and left him there in the dark. They took their position at the entrance of tent, guarding him as if he were the villain.
The madness of the events caught up with him and moments passed. Hiroshi wept silently.
I'm sorry father... for failing you.
A/N: Yes, I know Hiroshi's name is different at the moment but bear with me as the story unfolds. I hope you enjoy the fic! I have most of this written but I am still working on it. I will update as soon as I can :)