NOTE: Potential Sanada x Yanagi.


"Ren"

It was another Sunday morning.

It was another morning of calligraphy practice.

He, dressed in a blue kimono, sat kneeling before a low study table. A thin sheet of white rice paper laid flat on the table top.

He stared at it.

The paper was completely blank.

His mind was completely blank.

The hand that supported the ink-saturated calligraphy brush hovered over the paper motionless.

During a time like this, when his eyes could not draw inspiration from the nothingness in his mind, there was only one thing left for him to rely on.

He closed his eyes. He sent his heart out for inspiration.

It would know what he desired to compose. It would know what is most fitting for this piece of paper.

Soon, his hand began moving. The calligraphy brush he held began tracing its journey on the paper.

A stroke across. Two strokes down. Another stroke across…

Strangely, it did not feel as if he was writing in his native language. Instead, he felt himself become an artist whose brushstrokes followed the flow of the river.

His hand only stopped when his brush ended the river flow sharply.

Withdrawing his brush from the paper surface, he opened his eyes slowly.

What he saw surprised him.

That single character blossomed in amid the white.

"Ren." Lotus.

It took up almost the entirety of the paper.

It took up almost the entirety of his field of vision.

"Ren."

Only he knew what it referred to exactly.

Only he knew who it referred to exactly.

As he stared at the single character before his eyes, he felt his mouth dry up the same way when that person was near.

There was a tap on his door.

"Genichirou."

He froze. It was that voice.

Perhaps, all had been a premonition.

"May I come in?"

He answered quickly. "A-aa…"

Dropping the brush, he hastily crumpled up the paper and hid it in a kimono sleeve.

The door slid open slowly. The other entered garbed in formal kimono as well.

His companion closed the door, then lowered himself down before him gracefully.

"Shall we begin?"

He shifted awkwardly, adjusting his posture so that his back became more erect.

"Aa."

It was another Sunday morning.

It was another morning of calligraphy practice for him and his companion.

Except, the crumpled up piece of paper was not another sheet of paper he tossed away after practice.

He kept it.