A/N : Hey, all. I back~ Miss me?
Well, anyway, this won on my poll, and I'm pretty damn excited about it. I hope you all enjoy.
Disclaimer : I do not own Vocaloid, or the song Iroha Uta. The characters mention do not belong to be and I am not making a profit off of them.
Warnings : Strong language and sexual intonations ahead. Minors beware.
Thank you to my amazingly awesome beta, Seinakyou. She's made of rainbows and cupcakes for reading through this a million times and fixing all my bouts of silliness that are just weird. Oh, and she's writing something freakin' awesome, too. Check her out!
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Superficial Dreaming and Intoxication:
Chapter 1:
Kagamine Rin collapsed to the floor onto her side, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her long, baggy sleeves around them. She was trying to make herself unnoticeable; trying to hide.
Icy blue eyes closed amidst the murmurs of the frenzied females in the room. Unlike the others, Rin had cut her hair short, trying to make herself as unappealing as possible. She tried to believe that, maybe, if she looked like a boy, the men would leave her alone. One would think that her small breasts and short stature would be ignored among other beautiful women.
But it was never like that.
She heard the entrance slide open and footsteps on the hard, cold floor. A woman's gasp rang out in the now silent room. Rin opened her eyes and watched the shadow of a tall figure grasp a girl by the arm before dragging her out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him so that the room was once more enclosed in darkness.
There was a collective sigh of relief of those still here. They hadn't been taken. Yet.
Rin knew that the rebels who kept her and the others here had won a battle last night. They were drinking heartily, indulging in their victory.
They were also ready to indulge in the geisha. A pretty word for the ugly job as a concubine and slave.
Conversation slowly started back up in the enclosed, dark space once they were sure no more warriors were coming towards them. Rin stayed curled up on the ground, tightening her arms around herself.
The sound of bare feet on the floorboards did not startle her. She knew it was only one of her companions. Long, teal hair brushed her face as the woman sat down near her head. Soft hands caressed her forehead in a comforting manner. Rin relaxed a little, knowing that her dear friend Hatsune Miku hadn't been taken tonight.
"Kaito came back," the teal haired woman announced.
Small shoulder tensed. Kaito was one of the more talented warriors, strong and always in the front lines. He had taken a special liking to Rin, especially when he was intoxicated. He often called her Meiko at those times, though she didn't know why.
Rin had almost hoped he'd died during the battle.
Light spilled into the room once again as someone opened the door. The whispers hushed, and Rin tried to curl even further into herself as he walked closer. Rin had recognized the timbre of the shoes he wore.
Please. Not tonight.
A large hand wrapped itself around her forearm, fingers overlapping on the skinny appendage. Rin bit her tongue so that she didn't cry out as she was roughly pulled upwards. Miku looked up at her apologetically, not saying nor doing anything to help.
Rin didn't blame her. There was nothing to do.
As she was pulled out of the room, she tried to keep her eyes on the floor. She didn't want to see blue hair and handsome features. She wanted to see the blonde, spiky hair of her brother who was, with the recent battle, now technically on technical enemy territory.
She'd been taken from her home a few years ago. She'd been young, and hadn't known how to fight back. Her nation had been at a civil war, and had been invaded by the rebellion army. They'd taken many young women and girls, killing a lot of people. Her older brother, Len, had fought tooth and nail so that she wasn't captured.
It hadn't been enough, and he vowed that he'd join the Samurai and fight to get her back someday.
Rin was sure that he would. But, maybe, he'd be too late.
She was pulled into another, beautifully decorated room in no time. Crafted bamboo furniture sat perfectly across the room, a mat sitting in the center. Everything showed the power and responsibility the man who rested here had. But her eyes weren't drawn towards that—they were drawn to the chains hanging on the far wall. Where she knew she'd be locked up.
Kaito dragged her to it, cuffing her wrists. The chains were too high, meant for someone taller, and she was forced to stand on her toes so that her arms were threatening to pop out of their sockets.
As she felt her clothes being removed, she screwed her eyes shut, hoping to just get it over with.
"Look at me, Meiko." The words were whispered from the intoxicated, large man. He laced his fingers through the sash of her kimono at her waist. She did raise her eyes, not having a choice. His eyes were blood shot, and she swallowed nervously. Her kimono dropped to the floor, and she bit her lip, tasting blood.
Somebody help...
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A few miles away, the Samurai going against the rebellions sat in a makeshift campsite, tending to their wounded bodies and pride. They sat around a fire, on random logs and stumps that they had found. Off to the side, there were hastily set up tents where the seriously wounded rested on dirty cots.
"We got our asses kicked," says one solider, wincing as he attempted to bandage a bleeding wound in his side.
Kamui Gakupo, leader of the group of trained men, ignored the groans and protests of his fellow warriors, instead sitting hunched over a scroll with the afternoon's failed battle plan etched onto the parchment. Where had he gone wrong?
He ran a hand through is long, purple hair. He only looked up when he heard someone take the available seat on a log next to him.
Kagamine Len had joined the Samurai at a young age. Or, tried to, at least. It was Gakupo himself who had actually gotten the boy enlisted, though he'd never tell his friend that. He had felt sorry for the boy, and knew the familiar feeling of needing revenge for your family's honor. Since then, Len had gained many skills and proved admirable.
"What next?" the flaxen haired boy asked, raising a washcloth to a shallow gash on his forehead. Gakupo winced, remembering his own almost-concussion earlier that day. Someone had surprised him, hit him from behind. It was a dirty way of fighting, but Gakupo didn't expect anything less from the rebels.
Before the leader could answer, a man with red hair stumbled into the camp, panting. Gakupo immediately rose. "Somebody get him a cot and some water!" He barked the orders, and his comrades rushed to aid the man.
It was only when they got the man settled did Gakupo approach him. "What did you learn, Ted?" he asked quietly.
Ted tried to sit up in his cot. He winced, and laid back down. "They've got a resting place about four miles east. Food, drinks, er... women. From what I saw, they were living it up in their victory. They'd be easy targets right now." He punctuates his sentence with a cough, and a trail of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth.
Gakupo looked over his other companions silently, knowing what he wanted.
He wished to propose that they tried another attack early in the morning, when the rebels would be sleeping, and, ultimately, forced on the defensive.
His silence caught Len's attention. "Aw, I know that look," he said, leaning forward so that his elbows could rest on his knees. "What are you planning, Kamui?"
Kagamine Len, Gakupo knew, would always be up for a fight, especially if he knew they may find women where the rebellion troupe was. While the boy was not looking for a interested in indecent activities with the females himself, his sister had been taken by them. That was why Len joined the Samurai—to get her back.
Gakupo also knew that his own troupe would be up and ready for another battle, and would never complain about their injuries. They were strong, capable men, yes, but could they handle it?
As if he spoke his thoughts aloud, the warriors looked up determinedly at Len's words, some going as far as to pick up their recently used swords and start sharpening the bloodied weapons.
A slow smile graced the purple-haired man's lips.
He told the others of his plans, and that seemed to rile them up even more. As expected, no one even bothered to entertain the thought of rejecting his plan, though he knew they had to be worn out.
"All of you sleep," he announced, trying to calm down the now animated Samurai. "I will keep watch tonight. We will leave at dawn. Don't expect to be coming back here—we're taking their fort."
The men cheered, and Gakupo tried to tune them out, too tired to care, catching only snippets of their conversation. Most of the warriors, it seemed, were excited at a chance of women and alcohol after so long.
He snorted. Gakupo had learned from experience that keeping a woman in his line of work only ended in despair.
Many people believed that he and his Samurai were fighting real demons, the people who wanted to kill their nation.
In truth, Gakupo had his own personal ghosts he had not yet defeated.
The tall man shook his head, trying to get into an appropriate mood for a battle. Hopefully, this one would go better than the last.
If not, well...
Kamui Gakupo was more than used to failure by now.
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A/N : Yep. This is yet another starting to a new, higher-rated era. This is rated T for now, but it will more likely than not go up.
I hope everyone likes this!