AN: Hi :)


02


The floor was hard, and the edge of the curled claw of the table legs dug into his back. There were fresh scratches in his body, and his back felt sore. He suspected he might be limping until the end of next week, but it might be just him. His clothes were half-on, half-off and he supposed Seiichi just couldn't be bothered to fix him up before he had to tend to business.

His attention was drawn to movement at the corner of his eye, and he lifted his head to see Sanada-san shifting uncomfortably.

"I've been told to see to you, if you have problems," he said, crouching down to help Fuji into a sitting position. Fuji yelped and gingerly tried to look for a position to sit down with minimal discomfort.

Fuji had many problems, but he doubted Sanada-san could fix them, not if Sanada-san had his own problems he cannot solve.

Sanada-san did not meet his gaze as he buttoned Fuji's shirt for him, and though he knew he had no right to, he reached out until his hand brushed Sanada-san's shoulder. When Sanada-san tensed, he removed his hand.

"Forgive me, Sanada-san," he whispered, his voice scratchy. "I am so sorry."

Because Sanada-san had long loved Seiichi, and he had to stay and watch as Seiichi had his way with Fuji and take care of Fuji afterwards. And Sanada-san could stand it, Sanada-san supported Seiichi where Fuji could not, because of Fuji's limitations, and Sanada-san never doubted Seiichi like Syusuke did.

Sanada-san loved Seiichi so much. And Seiichi did not even see him.

"For what?" Sanada-san's voice was quiet, his gaze on Fuji's cravat. "You did not force me to do this. It was my decision that brought me here, not your own."

Perhaps it had been, but Sanada-san should not have been made to watch things like that. Seiichi knew it would hurt him, and many years ago, when everything was okay, Seiichi would never have done it.

But Seiichi was different now. And many years ago was the past.

And their world had wrecked itself, and they'd made decisions, and things happened, most of which Fuji wished he could forget.

"Are you sorry he loves you?"

"Sanada-san knows what we did, I know Seiichi has told it to you," Fuji averted his gaze. "He is a man, and the things we had done... Perhaps that is my fault."

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, more thoughtful on Sanada-san's part, and more somber on Fuji's. He tried to help Sanada-san, but Sanada-san waved his hands away.

"Are you able to stand?" Sanada-san finally asked, breaking the silence.

Fuji thought so, and when he felt his back protesting, he bit his lip, hard, so he would not have to show Sanada-san how much he hurt. Sanada-san helped him anyway, and pretended not to notice the way Fuji limped.

"It was a decision you both made," Sanada-san said, looking straight down the hallway, and not at him. "And he has, and will always love you. Do you?"

Fuji smiled. "I do."

They reached the door to Fuji's room, but Sanada-san paused before it, finally meeting his eyes. He had a gaze of a man in love, and perhaps he always had, because as long as Fuji had known him, Sanada-san had loved Seiichi. Maybe Sanada-san had been born to love Seiichi, he did not know. It was a wonderful thing to think, and if Fuji could wish for happy-ever-afters, he would wish for that. But it still seemed so far away now, and perhaps it never would be.

Sanada-san's lips quirked at the corners, Fuji thought it was as close to a smile as Sanada-san would ever get. "As long as there is that, I will not begrudge you his love."

"I will never stop," Fuji declared, pushing the door to his room open. "But I know my place in Seiichi's heart." And maybe he could have told Sanada-san, because Sanada-san loved Seiichi and because he knew, but Fuji refrained from continuing, and instead, gave Sanada-san his usual close-eyed smile. "Good day to you, Sanada-san."

Sanada-san replied with the curt nod, and Fuji entered the room, closed the door, flew into Eiji's arms and wept.


Atobe Keigo surveyed the board once, and decided that he was losing. Not badly, but not very graciously either. He supposed it wouldn't matter if he sacrificed that pawn now, Oshitari would probably have something up his sleeve for it, anyway.

This was why he hated playing chess with Oshitari. He did not look particularly skilled, and he played as if he couldn't care less, but he was a master of moving pieces to ridiculous places and leaving them there until Atobe could figure that said ridiculous place was not really ridiculous at all, because it turned out to be the only obstacle blocking whatever piece Atobe needed so he could move to counter against Oshitari's chess offensive.

"You are cheating," he accused, partly because maybe he was right, mostly because it was something to accuse Oshitari of. He always had the best fun accussing Oshitari of things. They might never be true, but that was a different story altogether.

"Am I?" Oshitari asked mildly, his brow lifted as he mockingly looked the board over. "I am sure I did not mean it." His hand hovered over the piece he had just moved, a black knight, marble carved into precise perfection. "I shall move the knight back and rethink my strategy, shall I?"

Atobe glared, because it sounded as if Oshitari was patronizing him, and no one (but Oshitari, apparently) made a show of patronizing the king of the largest kingdom apart that of the Empire.

"Yes, very well then, I'll put the knight back," Oshitari said, smirking as he moved the knight back to its original place, and moved the pawn several rows from it instead.

Atobe surveyed the board again and decided that he was still losing. Several moves later, Oshitari had the knight in the position he wanted it to be in anyway, and Atobe wondered why he had even bothered.

"I'd wager this is why you have me around," Oshitari gestured to his toppled king. "You are a horrible tactician."

Actually, Atobe was a decent tactician, if he was bothered to try. It was just that genius, miracle-boy Oshitari was too brilliant for his own good, and had let it get to his head. He was a prat, and an annoyingly pompous one that Atobe couldn't stand.

"I have you around because you are a prat."

Oshitari mock-clutched his chest, feigning his hurt.

Atobe rolled his eyes. "And I have a responsibility to protect my people from prats."

And then he looked away, sulkily surveying his courtiers. When he found no interest there, his gaze fell down, to watch a few of his troops in arms practice. Shishido was there, and he looked to be of sour temperament, beating his practice partner down almost angrily, as if there had been something offensive that the man had said.

He doubted it.

"Shishido is in a foul mood today," he commented, still looking away from his devastated troops on the chessboard.

"He is in a foul mood everyday, and you have never bothered with him before. But now that it has come to your attention..." Oshitari's voice was turning serious, and Atobe turned back to face him, because it was better to read Oshitari when they talked business. "Ohtori has not reported for a fortnight."

"Has he?" he asked, motioning for Oshitari to set up the chessboard once again. Oshitari did so, but not before sparing Atobe a look that cannot be shown in polite company. "Perhaps because there is nothing to report."

"Or perhaps because he is dead. Have you thought of that?"

"I think a lot of things," Atobe replied, leaning against the backrest of his chair, moving a pawn forward.

Oshitari spared a moment's glance at the board before he, too, moved a pawn. "And now that we've got you to thinking, would you mind telling me what you thought when you allied yourself with Tezuka?"

Atobe looked up from his board. "No, don't tell me." And he took up a mocking version of the way Oshitari was slouched in his chair. "'You're drawing unnecessary attention from the empire by your joining with an alliance that so obviously wants to conquer it.'"

The conversation they had that night was still fresh in Atobe's mind, because, being the arrogant prat that he was, Oshitari had not ceased until he had outlined all his arguments against Atobe's decision to prove he was mistaken, and Atobe had gotten minimal sleep because of it. He had woken up to badly-mussed hair, and obvious eyebags and he was still angry at Oshitari because of it.

"Exactly. I do not trust the Emperor Yukimura, and I definitely do not trust he will keep quiet after the alliance is publicly announced. You know he had long wanted to add our fair kingdom to his territories," Oshitari sniffed, moving his bishop. "And I do not speak like a whiny bitch."

"Oh, don't be silly, Oshitari, of course you do," Atobe replied, wearing a smug smile, capturing Oshitari's thrice-accursed knight. "The Emperor wants to add every land to his territories. Ours, most especially." He turned his head to survey the practice once again. "I thought it would be more amusing this way."

"I don't approve of it."

"That is what you said last time, when I decided to send more troops to watch the Eastern Border." He countered Oshitari's fierce assault with his castle. "I recall I was right."

"That's all the more reason for the odds to favor me this time."

Atobe surveyed Oshitari's face and burst in laughter. "You should be glad you are not a gambler."

"I resent that." Oshitari mock-scowled at him, striking a feigned-hurt pose. "Just yesterday I-"

"I will say this once, and once only," He cut Oshitari off, before he could ramble, voice sharp and face serious. "I take pride in my kingdom, but there are times I must recognize that compared to the Empire, we are but a small country. I have always thought of it, and if we are to stand a chance to be able to defeat Yukimura and his large, efficient army of madmen, we are in need of allies. There is precious little that would change that truth."

He exhaled, and put back his smug mask, prodding Oshitari's other knight off the board with the edge of his bishop. "At any rate, with the alliance, there shall be much more troops on hand for you to play with. Aren't you happy?"

Oshitari assessed him, long and hard before he shrugged, and returned to his languid posture. "What will I get, if this does not work out the way you want it to?"

Atobe smiled, and this time, it was the smile of the king that had gained more territories than he'd lived years. "Things will work out the way I want it to. That is why I have Ohtori." He spared one more glance at the fuming Shishido before he moved to rise.

"Checkmate, by the way," he said smugly, walking away with two victories in one setting. Things always work out the way Atobe Keigo wanted them to be, and there was never a time he wasn't right.


His soldiers were noisy when they trained, but Yukimura did not pay them any particular mind. He liked hearing them rowdy, because he knew that one word from him, and they would all fall down on their knees unquestionably.

No one questioned the Yukimura-sama.

He turned his attention back to the map. They had moved to the library, mostly because Yukimura did not want others to see his Syusuke so thoroughly debauched. No one questioned it, and Sanada had long since returned, with the news that Syusuke seemed to have gained a distinct limp.

If anything, it made Yukimura smile.

Yanagi was surveying a few documents, undettered by the noise of the troops. "I should think you would want to watch the Southern Provinces," he said, gesturing to the village Yukimura had razed to the ground, and the areas surrounding it.

"They are getting more and more rowdy by the day, aren't they?" Niou grinned to them from his place at the window, observing the fights that were going on. "I think it's about time you added another conquest in, 'Mura. It will keep them quiet."

"No, I think the destruction of one village was sufficient warning," he replied, smiling pleasantly, shifting in his chair so he could lean his head against the back of his hand. "And I have sent Hiroshi to watch over what had been left of them. I shall trust him to know what actions I would and would not tolerate."

"But hasn't it been over a month since the last addition to our territory?" Marui asked, looking pleadingly at Yukimura, thirsty for the excitement of war.

Yukimura smiled condescendingly. These people were the people he had collected, over the years. They were from different backgrounds, many even, from different territories, but they all had distinguished themselves in the art of war and subterfuge. Yukimura could tolerate them, and perhaps even like them, because they shared the same... interests. And because they were very good at what they do. That was important.

"I did not say we will refrain from war," Yukimura told the room at large. "But where do you suggest we start?"

"Here," Marui grinned, pointing to the areas he himself had hastily (and in Yukimura's opinion, crudely) colored in with the blood of the spy who had informed them of the developments of the growing alliance. "They are growing far too arrogant."

Niou snorted. "I'd second that. Their conceit affronts me."

"And you'd want to head out now, I'd suppose," Yanagi said dryly, perhaps still angry about the fact that Marui had destroyed a completely good map.

"You suppose correctly," Marui answered, and made a face when Yanagi only gave him a level stare.

"Why not?" he said defensively, and shrugged. "I am bored, and it is not fair that only Jackal gets to have fun."

"He has not even returned from his campaign in the West," Yukimura informed him mildly.

And it had been a great, albeit bloody, campaign. Jackal had handled himself excellently, and he had only lost an inconsequential amount of men because of it. Yukimura had no complaints, had another kingdom to add to his territories, and had finally sealed his southwestern border.

"He has been declared victorious a month ago," Marui insisted, stomping his foot childishly. "I am bored."

"Marui," Sanada growled threateningly, and Marui pouted and crossed his arms but quieted down obediently.

"Patience, Bunta. Wine tastes best when you allow it to sit for a few moments," Yukimura mused thoughtfully. "But I'm afraid I see that we do not have that luxury."

He leaned forward to trace the edges of the color Marui had added to the map. "If we do not move, kingdoms I've been eyeing might be sucked up into that disastrous arrangement."

"Tachibana's peasant kingdom, you mean?" Niou smiled darkly, waving a sealed document. "They already have."

Yukimura's face darkened, and he surveyed the map once again. "When?"

"Right before I headed back," Niou informed them all. "Tezuka had been sending diplomats to Tachibana even before he considered Atobe. It had taken much to uncover these documents. It had been a well-kept secret, until Tachibana agreed to sign the treaty."

"Trying to keep it from me, would you not say?" Yukimura's voice was pleasant, but layered with quiet steel.

"'Mura?" Even Marui's voice was hushed.

Yukimura stood up, and approached Niou in his place by the window. He took the document calmly, and his smile was pasted on his face, but the rage was so potent, they could feel it crackle the very atmosphere.

Yukimura tossed the document away, after he had read its contents, and looked out the window. He had wanted Tachibana's kingdom for Tachibana's connections and secret alliance with both Shiraishi and Chitose, which made up for the fact that the new kingdom Tachibana had formed had little to no history of which to speak of. They were fluorishing kingdoms, all three of them, but they had not yet reached the condition Yukimura desired his territories to be. However Tezuka, as he always has done, enjoyed spoiling his plans.

"He was always wont to take away my things," he murmured angrily. He watched the practice duel thoughtfully, as the soldier to the right lost his helmet, revealing bloodshot eyes, and messy dark hair. He was laughing as he thrust his sword and drew blood.

"Bunta," he called back, not tearing his eyes away from the duel. "How soon can you muster your troops?" As a member of his psuedo-council, Marui was a general in command of a fair number of full-sized armies.

"Excellent," Marui replied, bouncing down from his perch on the table. He had always wanted to lead the vanguard of the invading army, and now he was, and he was more than a little prepared for it. Yukimura must have known, as well, or he would not have called Marui like he did. He knew Marui was much better elsewhere. "I've had them in drills, manuevers and ready for march all of this month."

"Start with Yamabuki," Yukimura ordered, feeling a smile incoming as the other watching soldiers got wise and started to pull the dark-haired soldier away from his duel partner.

Yamabuki was a relatively small kingdom, ruled by a sly old king, but he had been sly far too late. Perhaps, if he truly had been as sly as the talk suggested, then he would have not formed a bond with the kingdom Yukimura most despised. They had a General that interested Yukimura, and, if he still lived after the conquest, maybe Sengoku could be offered a position in his guard. And that other black sheep soldier, Akutsu. But he doubted it. He'd sent Marui, with the knowledge that he had the habit of not leaving anyone alive, after all.

It would be a good asset, he supposed, just a few miles off the border, with thriving mines from being so close to the mountains. It was also one of Tezuka's more closer allies.

Which meant, "I shall give them time to fear me."

Tezuka, most especially. He had avoided his kingdom, because it would upset Syusuke once he did invade, but he had always hated Tezuka. He had never liked him, to begin with, but somewhere along the way, Tezuka had crossed the line everyone knew better than to cross.

No one tried to take away what Yukimura claimed as his own. No one.

That which belonged to Yukimura belonged to Yukimura alone.

"Niou," he breathed. "You know what I'll have you do."

"Very good, Your Majesty," Niou replied, but he said it fondly, because he knew Yukimura and Yukimura's moods. They all did.

"Oh, and Sanada," he called, pointing to the dark-haired soldier who had left his duel partner lying in a pool of blood. "I want that kid."


"Yield!"

Echizen Ryoma pressed his boot down to the man's chest a little harder, before he got off, and wiped the sweat from his eyes. This was his twentieth consecutive victory, but he was hardly satisfied.

He dropped his broadsword to the ground, almost angrily, as his partner scrambled out of the training grounds. There were very few soldiers here now. Most of them were off in drills, preparing for the war that was to come. As a result, he had fewer opponents to take down.

Momo grinned at him from where he was leaning against the pillars, but it did nothing to lessen his anger.

"Samurai Nanjiroh's son," that monkey-king had said, the way everyone in this wretched kingdom had whispered when he had joined its military. Except he didn't even have it in him to whisper, he pointed at Ryoma like Ryoma was a thing, a tasteless tapestry he was forced to look at, that interested him a little, but not enough.

Damn it, he was not his father!

It was bloody well the reason why he had run away from his home, because all his father's courtiers, all his teachers, all his fellow soldiers saw him only as the child son of the greatest king that had ruled their lands.

Fat lot of good that perverted idiot did them, when Yukimura finally decided to invade.

Whatever he had been expecting when he ran away, he had not expected to hear news of his kingdom's downfall. He had been in a battle at that time, protecting the northern border, and news had always lagged on the battlefield. But he had found out, slowly, and belatedly, first of the sheer size of the invading force, then how his father had died fighting off its first wave.

Rumour has it that Yukimura himself had led that army.

Perhaps they were right, and whether or not they were, it did not matter, Ryoma just needed someone he could blame for his family's demise.

...It might have been his fault.

If he had not run away, would he have been there to take the reins after his father's death? Would he have had the strength to muster his father's troops and organize them, and direct their fury at their king's death where it had been needed to be directed?

Would he have been able to save his kingdom, make a name for himself, finally, kept his mother and his cousin alive, and perhaps... just perhaps, topple Yukimura's corrupt empire?

But Ryoma... wasn't a tactician. He might have been, if he had paid any particular attention to his tutors, but he had been too busy looking out the window, his mind in the parade grounds instead of the library, trying to device plans to be able to get his father's soldiers to recognize him. It was a pity, because his mother was brilliant, both in combat and tactics, and, well, if Ryoma tried, he might have found out what he had gotten from her blood.

But he was too busy fighting against his father's shadow.

"Oi, Echizen!" Momo tapped his shoulder with the blunt edge of a blade. He must have approached Ryoma while he was lost in thought. He turned around to see Momoshiro Takeshi lounging against the hilt of another sword, patting him lazily with the blade of the first one. "I said spar with me."

Ryoma threw his glance at the grounds, and the eyes of the few remaining soldiers that were there that dropped automatically when he tried to meet theirs. Despite himself, he could feel his lips tugging upwards into a smirk. His eyes fell down to Momoshiro's bandaged ankle, and weighed getting Tezuka angry as opposed to having a decent duel partner, for once. Perhaps he could get away with around a hundred runs around the castle before sundown.

"Are you insulting me, Momo-sempai?" he asked, just to be sure. He was not fighting against Momo just to become his personal laughingstock.

"Hardly," Momo's smile was challenging, as he tossed the blade he had been tapping Ryoma with up to the air, catching it neatly by its hilt. "I'm coming at you with two swords, am I not?"

Ryoma picked up his broadsword, and hefted it up over his shoulder. "Just... do not go crying to Tezuka when you lose."

"As if I would do that!" Momo punched him on his shoulder in reproach.

"Yes, sure, Momo-sempai," Ryoma hid his smirk by carrying off a loose stance. "If it makes you feel better, you are allowed to lie to yourself. I don't suppose that's a crime."

Momo raised his two swords as they circled each other slowly. "I think you had better do good by watching your mouth, kid."

"Too bad for you," Ryoma kept his eyes on Momo's form, watching out for any slight twitch in the muscle that would give away movement. His voice was getting softer and softer, and adrenaline was pumping through his body, in preparation for a fight. Already, he could not remember their previous conversation, but he tried to continue with, "Have you ever-"

As if on an unspoken signal, he and Momo surged forward and their blades clashed with a resounding clang.

It has been long since Ryoma had last sparred with Momo, his ankle had prevented him from doing much after the last border battle. Or perhaps Momo's upper body had just gotten stronger, for the force against his sword was now stronger than Ryoma had recalled.

He dove to the left just as one of the two swords whipped through the air above him, and he raised his hands to counter the other sword's movement. That was right. Momo had always been too eager to show off his strength. It was always only in the middle of a duel that he'd get wise, and actually start to think strategy, but most of the time, it was either too late for him, or too late for his weak opponent.

Even now, Ryoma could see a rather large opening to his chest when Momo would raise his swords.

He switched his sword to his left hand, and drove it forwards, hilt-first, his right hand ready to receive it once again, towards Momo and the wide opening on his chest. Realizing this, Momo moved to bring one sword down, stepping back on his right ankle, making a misstep...

And falling down on his ass, his large swords dropping to the ground with loud, protesting sounds.

Ryoma resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'd warrant you knew this would happen," he said, lying down on his back in the middle of the training grounds.

Ryoma only shrugged. "This is not why you came here to look for me." He peered closer at his senior. "Are you sulking?" he asked, his tone unbelieving.

"What? No!" Momo tried to protest before he sputtered, and threw and arm to cover his eyes. "Yes, well, the Viper is being sent to Yamabuki for... well, to warn the old goat to watch his mountain passes, I'd suppose."

"Is that so?"

"That all you have to say?" Momo sat up incredulously.

Most likely, Ryoma thought, Kaidoh was being sent there to watch over Yamabuki's defenses for Tezuka. Their king was a man who, unfortunately, trusted the kingdom's golden goose who happened to be their best general, too much, when the man was too lax and cheery for his own good. Maybe, if Sengoku Kiyosumi wasn't busy looking for wenches to take to his bed, and maybe, if he planned his troops' movements every once in a while, instead of just going "Lucky~ Lucky~" on the battlefield, Tezuka wouldn't have had to send them a caretaker. Momo couldn't very well do it, his ankle was still healing, and his wound had to be restitched three times this week because of his own stubborness. Oishi would only worry himself half to death, Inui was too busy in his dungeons doing only heaven knew what, Taka was too gentle, and Arai had a temper (and would be too distracted looking for a wench to take to bed, as well).

Kaidoh was the obvious choice.

Of course, Ryoma could have done it.

But Tezuka was too busy coddling him.

"I don't envy him his meeting with Sengoku," he grunted, leaving Momo, and the training grounds in a far fouler mood than he had come.


Thanks to all you guys who read the first chapter. I know it was kinda confusing, but it'll make more and more sense as we go along :)

If any of you guys have time, do drop by and tell me what you think :)

/silverglitters