Sengoku Basara franchise does not belong to me. Original characters are works of my imagination.
Mitsunari is suuuuch a grouch! Maybe some flowers will improve his mood =D
Ch2
"General, the men are ready."
"Give the orders. We move out now."
"Hai!"
Light claws at the horizon as Mitsunari steers his horse towards the village leader awaiting him at the village gates.
"Has anyone seen Ran-dono?" He overhears a group of women talking amongst themselves.
"I haven't seen her since last night. Do you think one of the soldiers-"
"No way, not after their general's speech."
Mitsunari's hands tighten around the reins. He is confident his men were not to blame for some peasant doctor's absence, but confidence is not certainty. The only certainty is that he will personally cut down any soldier in his army who strays from Hideyoshi-sama's goal. The warning he voiced last night was not a threat, but a promise.
The village leader was an elderly man who greeted Mitsunari by the entrance gates. He was a kindly man who wished to express his blessing for the young general's army but was promptly interrupted.
"Provisions will be sent out in 3 days to here for your village's effort," subconsciously he eyeballs the crowd but finding no one, "you have my word."
The village leader didn't even get a chance to reply before the young samurai galloped off with his troops, leaving a trail of dust behind.
"Young people nowadays seem to have everything," he laughs bitterly, "except respect."
Tokugawa Ieyasu spun the cup of tea in his hands, reminiscing the last meeting with a certain vagabond samurai. After a few rounds of sake, which Ieyasu adamantly but politely declined, Takeda Keiji was spilling his guts about peace. It's true the older man's penchant for alcohol often left the younger samurai uneasy, but a slight smile graces Ieyasu's young features as he replays the meeting idly in the placid corridors of his ancestor's home.
The Tokugawa Bukeyashiki covers a sprawling 10 acres of land in Northern Osaka. Built by Ieyasu's ancestors, the single floor construct, replete with wooden gates, fortified walls, multiple wells, a rice mill, garden, and dojo, originally served as the primary residence for the Tokugawa clan. Since the Sengoku era, much of the clan relocated several miles South to Osaka Castle to avoid the flames of war. Only Ieyasu, endeavoring to bring peace through a unified Japan, remains at the residence, with a skeleton crew for maintenance.
Of course, that's not to say the samurai mansion did not have guests. Beyond the rice mills, Ieyasu had called for construction of barracks, enough to house an army. The earth is pocked marked by campfires and smells eternally of blood and sweat, but to the soldiers of the Ishida army, it has been home since the Battle of Sekigahara. The men were unsure of Ishida's decision to camp at a rival residence, but they deferred questioning their solemn general and much preferred a stationary site to a nomadic existence.
"Protecting that which money cannot buy, huh?" Ieyasu sips absently from his cup despite the pounding of equine hooves growing in the distance. He leans back against a pillar supporting the rooftops, obscuring the triple hollyhock emblem of his clan. "That sounds like something Maeda-dono would say."
He rises to his feet just in time to hear his guest's swift footsteps rounding the corner of the corridor.
"Mitsunari, it's been a while. How was Chogoku?"
The latter casts him a cold glare. Of all the places available to sit, Ieyasu had chosen the only corridor en route to Mitsunari's chambers. Of course, that's how it had always been; Ieyasu unable to mind his own damn business.
"A trifle matter," he mutters, passing by.
"Rumors say there were explosives, even arquebus." A tacit implication.
The pale samurai stops mid-stride. Arquebus. Foreign weapons that held no place in samurai battle. Tools for those with neither the skill nor courage to wield a sword. Grip on his weapon tightens. Hideyoshi-sama would not approve of such cowardice!
"What of it?" he challenges, whirling around to meet Ieyasu with his trademark scowl.
A brief silence and finally: "Your soldiers, are they hurt?" he asks calmly.
"What concern is it to you?" Mitsunari demands, odachi raised and aimed at his rival. Ieyasu. For a man who asks a lot of irritating questions, he wasn't one to instigate aggression. Oh, but a fight he was going to get if he continues on with this foolish charade.
Oblivious to his murderous intent, Ieyasu replies with a boyish grin. "Ah, I'd like you to meet someone."
Mitsunari could only raise an eyebrow when his rival calls for someone indoors.
"As you know, Irochi-ojisan has retired to the countryside."
Ah, the prattling resident doctor who serviced the mansion with his healing arts, and much to Mitsunari's dismay, would give him an earful about principles of conversation after each campaign. He had wondered where was the blathering fool.
"I've been pressed to find a successor for him, especially should the Lords of Aizu domain visit," Ieyasu explains. There is a flash of solemnity in Ieyasu' eyes that Mitsunari catches as the shoji slides open.
"Hajimemashite, Ishida-dono," came the soft voice with a bow. "Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu."
So she was here. That peasant! Except she didn't look a peasant anymore. At first glance is a face devoid of yesterday's dirt and grime, framed by long dark hair recently freed from a bun. She had also swapped her grungy, green garbs for a pristine, white yukata adorned with bamboo tracings. The first glance is all Mitsunari needs to know, but his eyes decided otherwise. She was worth two glances, at least, in which he finds her nails immaculate, shoulders modest, lips curled and eyes dignified without overconfidence. If she was shocked that he was here, it was not mirrored in her eyes.
"…"
"Ran-san has been practicing medicine all her life. She's been taught the trade well and will be especially helpful with the soldiers and…indiscretions," Ieyasu states, a smile ghosting over his features.
Mitsunari bristled at the implicit slight, and if looks could kill, the two idiots before him would have died several times over.
"Ieyasu-dono, you speak too highly of me. I happened to be raised by healers and merely followed their footsteps. I pray my abilities can fulfill the expectations of Doctor Irochi," she replies softly.
That voice. Despite the physical reversal, he found, much to his dismay, it is the same soft, weak peasant from yesterday. Mitsunari grimaces inwardly. Had he not heard it, he could have seen it in the implacable serenity of her eyes. Eyes that had no place in an era like this.
"That's right," as if Ieyasu suddenly recalls something, "Mitsunari, Ran-san should go tend to your soldiers right away. You probably lost quite a number of-"
"They are soldiers," the other man interrupted with unprecedented sharpness in his voice, "death is inevitable." The rebuke he expected was not from Ieyasu but rather the peasant.
"With all due respect, Mitsunari-dono, they are men who died fighting for a dream, an ideal, a family," her voice barely above a whisper, "for you."
"Then they died as you they should," Mitsunari counters, grip on his weapon returning with renewed fervor. They died as Hideyoshi-sama would have expected.
"Oi, Mitsunari, that's too far. People fight for many reasons, but don't you see the bond you had with your men that compelled them to fight along side you?" Ieyasu intervenes, recalling the message of a vagabond friend.
Mitsunari tosses his rival a dirty look. First the slight and now he was taking sides with an outsider! A weak, pathetic outsider nonetheless. He sneers inwardly. Enough. He didn't need to prove himself to some peasant and bond-touting idiot.
"Hn." He turns on his heels. "Katteni shiro."
Ran watches his retreating form. "Ieyasu-dono, did I misspeak?"
"Ah, don't mind him Ran-dono," Ieyasu sighs, scratching the back of his head, "Conversing isn't his forte. He's that kind of a guy."
If anyone were to walk by the Tokugawa garden in the evening, they would witness blurs of purple flashes before their eyes could register Ishida Mitsunari sheathing his sword at the end of his kata practice. Throughout the Toyotomi era, Mitsunari was hailed as the fastest and deadliest of vassals. Some still think he is. What they don't know is that despite his footwork and technique, re-sheathing his o-dachi is a turnover time of greatest vulnerability. During that moment, he is defenseless and visible to the naked eye. For this reason, he is practicing- no, perfecting his routine to minimize the turnover time from one attack to the next. Because the most dangerous samurai is not one whose attack be cannot seen during battle, it is the one who cannot be seen once battle starts.
Mitsunari finishes the last slash and sheaths his sword just as a warm breeze picks up. The residence has a dojo but he prefers training outdoors with the elements. He is heading back on a cobblestone path when one of the Irises in the path slides off its stalk and on to his feet. On one knee, his free hand examines the purple floor. He is no stranger to the smell of Irises, the patch of said flowers is nearest to his practice site, but the feel of its silky petals, even through his glove is a foreign sensation. Mitsunari concludes one of his attacks probably nicked the flower out of its proper place, and is about to toss it away when-
"Mitsunari-dono?"
The young general springs to his feet, hand fisting the flower slightly behind his back. "Nani?" He turns around.
She greets him with a bow and bids him good evening, all of which is promptly ignored.
"This garden was the first place I wanted to see, but I didn't get a chance to come during the time Ieyasu-dono showed me around the residence," she gazes at the colorful patches, "it is beautiful, wouldn't you agree?"
Mitsunari grumbles something about Ieyasu being a samurai, and not a pansy gardener to which the peasant, much to his ire, has the gall to laugh. It is a light, twinkling sound, perhaps musical in quality, but what the hell did he know about music?
"Mitsunari-dono, there may be a samurai who also enjoys growing plants," she replies with a smile, remembering a kindly one in Oushuu who gave her some daikon as thanks for treating his Lord.
"…"
A silence ensues and for a moment Ran gathers her words carefully.
"Moshiwake arimasen, Mitsunari-dono," she apologizes, head bowed, "forgive me for not mentioning our prior meeting to Ieyasu-dono and not informing you yesterday that I was to come here." She takes his silence as a cue to continue.
"I did not have the chance yesterday, but thank you for coming to my aid."
"Any behavior that infringes upon loyalty to the cause of the Ishida army will not be tolerated," he enunciates, as if reciting a mantra. Hideyoshi-sama would never tolerate such insolence. "You are of no consequence."
Ah, there it was again. The very quality that made her wish his steed kicked him or that the straps of his waraji would snap during battle. Ieyasu-dono had briefly explained to her Mitsunari's devotion Hideyoshi Toyotomi. It made sense that he was a righteous samurai under the teachings of the late Lord. She also supposed that one with strength such as Mitsunari would be ironically, entitled to some arrogance. However, perhaps it was too much to ask among the limited spectrum of his personality for a pinch of politeness. Kindness was definitely out of the question.
Ran sighs inwardly. Still, if not for him she would have been in a world of trouble.
"Of course, Mitsunari-dono. Order must always be maintained in an army, and one must never lose sight of the goal," she nods in agreement. To Mitsunari, it was probably the least irritating thing she said since they've met.
"I thank you nonetheless." She bids her leave but he interrupts.
"Why are you here?" he asks out of the blue.
"…I don't understand," Ran replies, smiling at the samurai awkwardly. Now, in full moonlight, she notices how his pale skin develops an alabaster sheen and how his white hair catches silvers of platinum to compliment his sharp jawline. Surely the ghastly and spectral young man she met yesterday could not be the same ethereal entity before her now.
"This is a den of wolves. It is no place for a woman of your nature," the gravity of his words, snapping her out of her reverie, "have you no fear of us?"
Of me?
His eyes trap hers in a fierce, unyielding gaze, but she recalls Ieyasu-dono's words.
The one who risks his life out of pure devotion for another...
"No." If not for his excellent hearing, her answer would have been whisked away by the winds.
His eyes of steel narrow, daring her to continue, and somehow she finds her courage.
…surely that person can form bonds with others.
"I am not afraid," her eyes still as placid as ever, but with a trace of something Mitsunari could not place, "because this den of wolves runs with bonds."
He searches her expression for fear, doubt, anger, anything, before breaking away. She excuses herself and bids him a good evening, leaving him in the evening breeze.
"Stubborn woman," he mutters, walking away from the crushed floral.
Katteni shiro: do as you please/whatever you want.
Waraji: rope sandals
Dozo yoroshiku: form of greeting, please be nice to me/take care of me.
Hajimemashite: geeting when meeting someone for first time