Mood Music: View of Silence by Joe Hisaishi
Notations: Ummmmmmmm, Feudal Japan, anyone?
WARNING: Angst, violence, gore (?), blood mention, lots of pining, out of characterness
Repletum
Chapter 11: Poison
In which man is a Victim of Fate
Love cannot save you from your own fate .~Jim Morrison
He was the very night as he crossed the sloping roof of the Lord's house. The pale skin around his eyes the only thing visible to the darkness.
He sneered at the so called guards moving like clockwork in the court below.
How simple it had been to invade the manor and climb the room where the Lord's son slept.
The night was cool, moon high in the sky, and the assassin moved carefully, jumping here and there to avoid detection, soundlessly. Gone was the clumsiness of his younger years; his long, strange limbs now a harnessed tool for his chosen trade.
There were wafting curtains in the arched window of the top most room, dim candlelight burning in the open air. The assassin's dark emotionless eyes swept across the room in an expert manner, making sure that only he and the victim were present.
He approached the bed, each footfall soft and measured, as he came upon the bed of the young lord. With precise experienced fingers, he pulled at the ornate knife strapped across his chest, and the blade, as sharp and as beautiful as always, shone so bright even in the dim fading candlelight.
He paused as he leaned over his target. The body was bundled up, like a child in golden woven sheets, and the assassin reached out and pulled at them, making sure that it was indeed the child that had been marked for his kill.
The figure didn't resist, and from the sheet was revealed a boy; young and beautiful, royalty in his blood from his high cheek bones and regal slope of his neck.
The assassin stretched out his blade, ready to slide it across the soft skin of the young lord's neck and spill that holy blood upon golden fabric, but he stopped, froze, when eyes opened and stared unblinking to the ceiling. The boy's eyes were blue, like the ocean at dawn, the sky in the purest morning. Midousuji leaned the blade down, stretching his face under his mask in a cruel wicked smile, but it quickly faded when he realized that the boy could not see him.
The boy was blind.
He frowned and pulled back his blade. It didn't matter if the boy was blind, but it triggered memories in him, and he withdrew and hunched down as the boy sat up, clutching the sheets under his thin clean fingers.
"Hello?" He whispered, a tremble in his voice, his speech impeccable as he spoke to air, "Is someone there?"
The assassin cocked his head and didn't move, merely shifting so he could watch the unseeing eyes with morbid fascination. The boy was a flower, carefully grown in the safety of this house, watered by his father, nourished by the endless servants constantly catering to his every whim.
"I-" The boy continued, and he turned his head to and fro, as if listening before he riveted unto where the assassin was crouched, and for a moment the assassin feared that he had made a mistake in his assumption, "I can hear you breathing."
The assassin wanted to laugh, and he stood, his height overshadowing the bed and the victim in it. He was surprised that the boy hadn't yet yelled out for help.
He flipped the blade in his hand, ready for the quick movement to slit a flawless throat, and the boy spoke.
"Are you here to kill me?"
The assassin paused, eyes narrowing, and he pressed the sharp edge of the blade to the boy's cheek, and slid it down. He watched as the boy took in a shuddering breath, and his blue eyes blinked, aimlessly searching the room.
"What do you think, little prince?" The assassin said, his voice as low as the quiet of the night.
The boy swallowed against the sheen of the knife, his voice also a quiet lull, "Will-Will it hurt?"
The assassin frowned, not liking the absence of terror in the boy's voice, the lack of surprise. Most of his marks were a screaming loud mess that he enjoyed silencing, but this boy seemed so calm. This pampered brat was not afraid, even if there was a slight tremor in his voice.
"Do you not fear death, young prince?" The assassin said, hissing as his blade dug deeper, not yet cutting, but straining against the skin.
The boy didn't move, only tightened his small fingers around the silk of his bed, "I am afraid, but I am also ready. I knew… I knew that one day you would come and kill me. I am sad for my father, and my friends, but… I want to help my people. This is how I can-"
"Silence." The assassin hushed him, and frowned. What sort of delusions was the boy going on about? "You want to die?"
He pulled his knife from his throat and crouched closer to hear the boy's words.
The boy swallowed hard, bringing up a hand to touch where the blade had pressed, "There was… There was a prophecy, when I was sick once long ago, a soothsayer came and told my father of my fate."
Midousuji narrowed his eyes at the story, "And what is your fate, little prince?"
The boy beamed, he smiled even as he spoke of such a grim topic, "The soothsayer only said it once, but I remember. The prophecy goes like so: One who sees without sight, unclouded by the poison of-"
"Stop… Gods. What sort of fool are you?" Midousuji rolled his eyes, interrupting the young lord rudely. He tucked his blade back into the sheath strapped to his chest, "Pft, a prophecy..."
For some reason, he suddenly didn't want to kill the boy, just to spite that happy morbid smile of his. "You think your death will be of any consequence?"
The boy lifted his blue blind eyes in the direction Midousuji's face, "If I can do something for my father and my people, I want to…"
"Even die? What have you? Some sort of hero's complex?"
The boy shook his head, "Oh no! I could never be a hero. I can not wield a sword, nor shoot an arrow, but that does not mean I do not love my country. I want to do something also."
Midousuji stared at the boy, but after a moment, he kneeled on the bed, and pulled out his blade again, and pressed the flat of it against the boy's throat, where the pulse was thick and fast.
"Such pretty words from a prince." He hissed near his ear, "But you don't know what death is if you wish for it. It's cold, and dark, and painful." He whispered, growling out his words to make the boy afraid. "So tell me. Do you really wish for me to cut that pretty neck of yours?"
The boy swallowed hard against his knife, "I am afraid, but… I believe. I truly believe that if this can help, and bring peace, I will be content with that."
Then he gripped his hands together, closed his eyes, and lifted his neck to the blade.
And Midousuji marveled. This boy was speaking the truth; he would die for his kingdom.
It disgusted him.
He pulled his blade back and retreated. He was not going to take the boy's life, not today, in light of his idiotic reasoning.
"Wait, are you-" The boy cried out, listlessly moving on the bed, apparently hearing his departure. "Why do you- Are you not going to-"
Midousuji ignored him and was almost out the window when the boy asked for his name.
Midousuji paused, and was surprised that he did. He spoke, his tongue moving before he finished thinking.
"Akira."
Then he bit his tongue, trying to punish it for speaking without his consent. He flipped out of the window, back into the cover of night.
Midousuji could think of nothing, but the bright eyes of his latest mark. He had failed last night in taking his life and had to make sure that none found out of it.
The boy was a constant thought in the back of his mind, buzzing like an incessant insect. He traveled in the morning to the pig farmer that had recruited him for the kill.
The man was wide eyed when he saw the narrowed eyes of the assassin, "Ah! You-You did it!? I haven't heard-"
Midousuji sneered under his mask and flipped onto the man's fence, keeping his pigs trapped, "You don't think that I am not capable of killing a mere boy, do you?"
The man shook his head, and stumbled towards the house, "No! Of course not! I have-I have your money..."
Midousuji cocked his head and nodded, "Good." He cooed and followed the man into the house. The man hunched over a dirty cot and Midousuji wrinkled his nose at the sight. He saw a flash of metal, and ducked as the man pulled out and swung a sword where the assassin had been only moments ago. Midousuji kicked out with one foot, knocking the man's bad posture over with ease, and the sword clattered to the ground, and he kicked it away. What was this simple minded pig farmer thinking? Kill an assassin using the element of surprise? What a fool!
The man scooted back against the dingy wall of his shack, "I have the money!" He pointed to the box, "Take it! It's all there! Just let me live!"
Oh, how his tune had changed. He pulled out his knife and enjoyed the expression of pure terror on the man's face. Now this was how his victims needed to look, not brave and beautiful like the boy from last night. Midousuji blinked, annoyed at thinking once again about the prince. The thought of him brought a question to his mind.
Midousuji hunched over the man, even as he smelled the pigs on him, "Why did you ask me to kill the young lord, pig?" He hissed and the blade twirled over and over in his hand. The man scooted back further, fear in his eyes.
How could it be that he and this disgusting vile man were both humans? What mockery.
The man shook his head, "I told you where your money is! Why are you still here!? I have nothing more!"
Midousuji grinned under his mask, "I only want to know."
"He deserves to die! The prophecy says that his death will bring peace and prosperity! But what does the Lord do!? He pampers him and keeps our blessing from us!" The man spat out, dirty saliva flying out of his mouth. "If the boy dies, then I would be celebrated as hero! A hero!"
The man was clearly insane and Midousuji knew he would not get any more use out of him. Hah, how foolish. As if the death of one simple boy would make any difference to anything.
Midousuji felt disappointed, and the man suddenly pushed him away, and tried to run for the door.
The assassin was quicker, and he sunk his blade into the fat of the man's back, striking up into the heart. The man fell to the ground without grace, like the way he lived most of his life. Midousuji simply removed his blade, wiped it with the dirty coat of the man before sliding back in its rightful place, and after, he left the still warm corpse without a second glance.
He did visit the boy again. The young lord was waiting, sitting in his bed, and he inclined his head when he heard the soft rasp of Midousuji's breath.
"Akira-dono?" He asked, and Midousuji's only response was to sit on the edge of the bed, touching the silk of the golden sheet under his hands.
The boy pulled back his sheets and crawled towards the assassin. Midousuji watched with fascination as he came closer to who would soon kill him. He didn't have to anymore. He had killed the man who marked him, so the contract was null and void, but a part of him wanted to.
The young lord's blood was most likely rich and sweet, and it would be a glorious sight to see the ever bright gold of his bed stained red.
But another part of him was so curious, so mystified by bright unseeing eyes, and the absolute preposterous idea that Midousuji would be doing him a favor by taking his life.
"Akira-dono… Will you kill me tonight?" The boy asked, as he kneeled on his bed with easy grace, with beauty taught to him from birth.
It didn't sound right coming from his mouth. It sounded vile and wrong that Midousuji flinched at it. "I will take your life when I deem it so, little prince." He replied, interlacing a mocking tone.
The boy only smiled, and the sight was jarring. The boy was beautiful, like a woman adored to dance for generals, his smile was shy and sweet, long dark hair tied back, and the slope of his neck drew Midousuji's eye. It reminded him of those women that the men of his town worshiped as they passed by, their lips red and faces painted. He had never found them alluring.
But he found this, this small, smiling bright eyed boy as beautiful as blood dripping from his blade.
"Akira-dono, why are you an assassin?" The boy asked, as if it was a normal, unobtrusive question and Midousuji was once again reminded at how strange all this is. He waited a moment, and then pulled his knife out of its sheath, a habit when uncomfortable.
"Just as you are a Lord's son, I was destined to be a monster."
The words came so easily, after hearing them so many times. Was that not what the men in his town called him, a child of demon? His mother had always suffered in his place. Her work with the blade was honored, but her union with a strange man, and the child come forth of that union, cursed her.
He could not be more than an assassin.
"Oh…" The boy started, "I do not know if I was destined to be the Lord's son. I think it was my father's kindness that did that." He leaned in closer, whispering, "This is a secret, but I believe you will not tell anyone."
Midousuji found the boy so odd. What sort of fool would tell an assassin any sort of secret?
"I have no royal blood in me. My father found me on the road one day. My mother died in childbirth and father thought I was cursed because I was born blind. They left me on the mountain. My father was passing that day, and he saw me. When he tried to return me to my true parent, he refused. So, the lord brought me here." The boy leaned away, his smile bright, happiness in every curve of his face, "Father told me that he was only going to keep me as a servant, but then he decided to call me son. Is that not amazing?!"
Midousuji wondered at what sort of child would the boy be if the Lord hadn't pitied him. Would he have traveled down the same path as Midousuji? It was also strange how the boy exuded such grace, such beauty, when only common blood ran through him.
"I am not good at anything, and I am blind, so I can never inherit the land, but my father loves me even so. So that is why I thought the prophecy... Well, I want to do something, too."
Midousuji clacked his teeth from behind his mask, "By dying? Haaaa! You are a fool for believing such things. All that superstition is only for fools."
The boy tightened his lips, but after a moment smiled again, "Akira-dono, you seem very wise. I have never met a man who has ever called me a fool."
Midousuji stared at the curve of his lip, finding something pure in the way his eyes lit up. There was so much emotion in the boy's eyes, hidden and deep, despite the lack of sight.
He felt something choke him, not curiosity or fascination, something from within, pulling at his soul, rushing through his veins.
He stood up quickly, away from the boy and his warmth and words. He didn't offer a farewell as he leapt out of the window and into the comfortable acquainted night.
The next day he donned traveler's clothes and made a stop at a shop for food and supplies, and the vendor was not happy to oblige him, "Eh? A traveler? Visiting the strangest town in the south?"
The spring heat was sweltering under his mask, now white and thick, but more in line to what far off travelers and sellswords wore. The crowds that gathered in the street only added to the heat, and Midousuji didn't know why.
He flipped a coin onto the wooden counter, and the man shifted his attitude suddenly, smiling and showing a yellowed grin, "What can I do you for, oh kind sir?"
"Rice." He murmured, and the man leaned down under his small table to handle a large sack of rice, "Any information you need, oh kind sir? 'Bout our town?"
Midousuji surveyed the crowd around him, and even though he knew the greedy merchant would want for his tidbits, Midousuji was curious, "Why the crowds?"
The man popped his head up, weighing the small sack of rice expertly, "The Lord and his son will travel to the north today, to our oldest enemies, the so called God of the Mountain."
Midousuji knew that the Lord of this state was in constant rivalry with the Lord of the Hanoe Kingdom. What an idiotic game. While samurai fought, and fell and died, the Lords gave false smiles over tea together.
"Our kind Lord hates all violence, but how can he not fight? He is attempting to bring peace using his son."
Bright blue eyes flashed through his mind, and he asked, very nonchalantly, "Is the son a great warrior?"
The man snorted, and Midousuji felt offended for some reason, "The boy might as well be a lass. There are some that believe he is, but the boy is blind. Can't do much, but dance. Like a hostess. Beautifully, I heard. It fascinates the Lords, and their sons, his smile charming even the most serious of men."
Midousuji frowned even harder, "What is the boy's name?"
"Lord Sakamichi. He is a sweet child by all account, but he isn't a fearsome leader we can depend on." The man sighed and handed over the sack of grains.
Sakamichi.
It's appropriate, judging from the story that the boy had told him last night.
Sakamichi.
He tossed another coin at the man, and hung the sack on his belt. He heard the clip clop of horses coming and he hid back into the shadows of the buildings around him as an open carriage brought two ornately dressing individuals down the street.
People were throwing flowers, and adulations, but Midousuji's eyes riveted on the small, lavishly robed boy.
Sakamichi.
He looked like the rising sun itself, smiling at the crowd that he could not see, staring ahead to the road.
He looked beautiful and untouchable, and Midousuji felt something fierce and strong fill his vein. Something screamed in him, something that wanted to follow the boy to wherever he deemed, and kiss the ends of his robes.
It felt like...worship in his blood.
Midousuji pulled his eyes away and covered his face with his hands, physically sick at his reaction. How disgusting. How putrid.
Worship!? None deserved worship, especially a sniveling child like that, whose life Midousuji had played with on more than one occasion. He worshiped no one.
He fled through the narrow alleys of the buildings and kept going until he couldn't hear the roar of the crowd.
Yet, somehow he felt the impossible gaze of blue blind eyes on him, and on his tongue was a name as sweet as honey.
Sakamichi.
There was something self destructive about Midousuji's new found addiction. Sakamichi truly was light, bright and filling. He seemed to see straight through him, his sight going past all the oddness of his being. It was terrifying that Sakamichi could see his ugly scarred soul and not care what a monster he was.
He visited, always with the pretense of killing him, but more and more that was looking unlikely.
It was becoming ritual, habit, one that the prince did not mind at all.
"You are always so quiet, Akira-dono," He said one night, sitting like a blooming flower in his bed, smile wide as he heard the footsteps of his nightly companion, "I can barely hear you."
It was becoming harder and harder to remember that one day he was going to kill the boy.
"Of course, little foolish prince. Have you ever heard of a loud assassin?"
Sakamichi shook his head, "No...My father does not want me to hear of those sorts of stories. I scare easily and have nightmares as a result."
Midousuji scoffed, "As if not knowing of the dangers of the world will make them go away."
Sakamichi frowned, "I have always loved hearing about stories of heroes and their lovers, though. The thought of love just... It makes me so happy. The fables been told to me have taught me that love is the most wonderful and powerful thing in the world."
Midousuji laughed quietly into his mask, "HA? Love? That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard. Love, pah... Love is nothing more than a hindrance. It's a superstition, a fable, to make we men feel worth something."
Sakamichi's smile faded, and Midousuji tried to ignore the disappointment he felt when he saw that.
"Maybe you are right, Akira-dono, but if I believe in it, I think perhaps, one day, I will find it, too. I want to find love. Do you not want to?"
And though the boy was blind, his eyes shone like stars in the dim light of a lit candle, and the encroaching darkness gave way to him. Midousuji suddenly felt hot, like the times when he would stray too close to his mother's working blacksmith pit, and felt dizzy from the heat washing over him.
Love? What was love? And did he ever want to find it?
He had loved his mother, before the sickness took away her sight, and then her life. That had been love...Could there be more than that?
Midousuji pulled out his blade, the one his mother had gifted him before she passed, sharp as the day it was made. He stared at the intricate hilt and the shine of the blade.
He missed his mother.
He had been taken to the palace as a youth to learn the ways of a warrior, and make his mother proud, but as his lessons grew long, and thoughts of power and wealth filled his mind, he failed in seeing her weakening state.
And now he was alone.
"Akira-dono? Are you well? You never answered-" A small hand touched him and Midousuji stiffened at the contact, bringing his blade up to protect himself. The blade met resistance as it slid across the boy's palm, leaving a trail of blood behind.
The boy sat back holding his hand in shock, a little river of blood running from the cut down his arm, "Ah! I-"
Midousuji breathed in hard. He hadn't meant-He didn't want to hurt the boy and regretted that this had happened. He ripped off his sleeve and quickly wrapped up the injured hand tightly, closing the wound. It was not deep, and would heal quickly, but Midousuji felt disgusted with himself. And that was foolish, because he was going to kill the boy someday, wasn't he?
Sakamichi had tears in his eyes and the sight was driving Midousuji insane.
"I hadn't meant to- I didn't mean-" Midousuji stuttered, shame and regret making his tongue heavy in his mouth.
"Akira-dono, please, do not concern yourself. I am fine. I should.. I should be more careful."
He pulled his hand to himself, and Midousuji saw the drops of red on the golden sheets. Before, he had wanted to see blood spilled on the rich color, but now, the thought of cutting the boy's elegant throat, or sinking his blade into his heart, filled Midousuji with remorse, made him want to howl at the injustice.
Midousuji stepped back until he leaned against the window, ready to leave, because he felt wrong and dirty and evil.
"Akira-dono? Have you left?" Sakamichi asked, hand still protectively pressed to his chest. He shifted his head around, as if trying to listen, and Midousuji held his breath to avoid detection.
After a long moment, Sakamichi laid back in his bed, covering his figure again. Midousuji didn't move, standing there until he could hear the soft rasp of Sakamichi's breath.
He then crept closer, until he was hovering over the boy. Sakamichi was so beautiful; whether asleep or awake, he shone so brightly.
Midousuji stared at him.
He had to decide. He should kill the boy now, do away with him, but his body would not move and his mind screamed at the thought.
It was too late to make any sort of decision.
He would never kill the boy.
Sakamichi had already infected him, like poison, rushing through his blood, and slowly killing him.
And for some reason, the thought didn't scare him as it should. He hovered over the boy, and watched him sleep, feeling heat surge through him at every intake of breath, at every flutter of eyelash.
Poison.
No matter how he reasoned, his logical mind always lost to his heart's desire.
So, no matter how many reasons there were to not visit Sakamichi any longer, they always faded at the sight of the boy.
Sakamichi was unlike any royal, no, unlike any person he had ever met. He was foolish and naive. He knew nothing of the true wicked world he lived in, so protected in his high tower was he.
Midousuji would have hated this innocence in anyone else, but with Sakamichi, with his rich smile and blue sightless eyes, he couldn't feel more than a fierce protective desire to keep him innocent like this. Keep the world at bay so Sakamichi could stay foolish and ignorant.
Every night, Sakamichi would grow closer, feeding the fire in his heart. Nights turned to months, and Midousuji realized in a sudden thought, as he told the story of his escape from a camp of bandits, that he hadn't killed in a long time.
Sakamichi would touch him. At first, it was only the brush of fingers, and Midousuji would watch his hand edge closer, seeing the scar that formed there from his carelessness.
"Akira-dono, you feel like the wind."
Midousuji laughed at him, "Foolish prince, one can not feel like the wind…" But the compliment filled something, and made his hands tingle.
"Do not laugh! I only meant in a poetic sense! I do not how to describe it!" He exclaimed, and then lowered his voice sheepishly, "You seem…You are so knowing and free." He quickly pressed a hand to his heart, "Do not misunderstand, I do not feel trapped here. I just-" He blinked those beautiful eyes of his, "I feel like you are a dream. Sometimes, I think you are just a dream. That is why I want to touch you. To make sure you are true and real."
Midousuji clenched his teeth together, staring at his small wonderful face, aglow with shyness.
"I don't mind, but did you forget, young lord, I am an assassin. Is it wise to come so close?"
Sakamichi was already crawling to him, small carefully kept hands, searching for his. Apparently, he didn't.
Sakamichi was warm, like the small fire that Midousuji lit to keep himself when out in the forest. His fingers were soft and neat as they glided over the bony ridges of his hands. Midousuji chuckled at how entirely too small were the young lord's hands, and how they were easily engulfed by his large palm and thin spidery fingers.
How could he ever feel like the wind when he was sharp and hard?
"You are warm, Akira-dono, and strong." Light fingertips traced the callouses of his palm. Midousuji only watched him, blood pounding in his ears, gritting his teeth at the sensations sweeping through him at Sakamichi's ministrations. "I am glad you came, Akira-dono. I am so glad to have met you." He said, with a smile so true and bright. He was glad to have met a vile, depraved assassin.
It was poison, in his veins, injected into him at every touch of Sakamichi's fingers, infecting him with light and hope of a new life. And though Midousuji knew, he knew that poison would one day take his heart and his life, he kept taking it.
And for the first time in a long time, Midousuji didn't care.
He continued to visit his prince, in his high tower, telling stories of his adventures and of his tragedies, soaking up Sakamichi's enthusiasm like water on his parched tongue, watching his bright eyes stare aimlessly in the room, but still so alive.
It was a taste of something so wonderful.
And Midousuji never wanted it to end.
"My father spoke to me today. He told me that we might be forced to live somewhere else for a time."
Midousuji crouched down, flipping his ornate blade in his hands without looking.
"Where?"
He felt a slight worry rise in his chest at the thought of their lovely nights together coming to a close.
Sakamichi smiled, that damning sun filled smile, "Will you follow me there as well, Akira-dono?"
Midousuji jumped onto the bed, hovering over the small boy sitting there. The blade of his dagger shining in the
in the moonlight. "I DO have a contract to fulfill, remember?" It had been months since he had mentioned it, and just the reminder made Midousuji feel sick. It was obvious now that he would never, could never hurt the boy in any way. He had forgotten. He was a wicked, cruel assassin who was responsible for the lives of many.
How could he have forgotten that?
"Ah, yes." Sakamichi replied, still smiling, even in light of the mention that his friend, who he let lay in his bed and touched without fear, was a merciless killer, "Well, I do not know. There is unrest in the north and rumors of war from across the sea. My father wishes for me to visit the ocean before we head to our refuge. I wished it of him. I want to feel it. I hear that the sea is as beautiful as it is frightening." Midousuji shrugged and then remembered that Sakamichi couldn't see the action, so he flopped back on the bed, across Sakamichi's legs that were hidden under his sheets. "It's alright, I suppose. If you like water."
Sakamichi giggled and reached out, his soft hand searching for Midousuji. Midousuji let him, and softly breathed as the warm fingers touched his dark garments of his shirt. Even through the heavy silk, he could feel his heat, "I wish for you to join me. By the ocean, Akira-dono."
"No." Midousuji said, even though he was thinking of going, of hiding in the shadows and watching the boy with the ocean as his frame.
Sakamichi laughed, and it was like joy turned into sound. "I thought you would say that. What could do to convince you?"
The boy looked so innocent, so angelic, yet the words made Midousuji turn red with implication. "What are you good at?"
Sakamichi sighed, "Nothing, really. My father says my voice is soothing, but my father is too kind to me and I can not sing now, with the guards so close. I suppose there is nothing I can do convince you to join me."
Midousuji bit his tongue. He wanted to hear the young lord sing, but perhaps another time. He remembered the man that had prattled on in the market months ago, and asked;
"You say you are good for nothing, yet I hear you charm even gruff men with your dancing."
That was not the only thing that charmed men, because the red that splashed across the boy's face is more alluring than gold.
"I can never tell if my dancing is of any worth or beauty for I can not judge the faces of my audience."
Midousuji grinned wide, "Well, entertain me, little prince, and I will let you know if you've been lied to."
Sakamichi's blush blossomed brighter, and he shook his head, "But, Akira-dono! I am not dressed to dance. It will not be right to-"
"Are you making excuses, little prince?"
Sakamichi pouted, like a petulant child, losing only for a moment the regal air, and Midousuji thought it was wonderful, "I am not, Akira-dono." He pulled his legs from under Midousuji and moved to the edge of the bed, and stood, untying a sash and slipping out of the topmost layer of his sleeping clothes.
Midousuji's breath quickened as he saw a sudden flash of skin from under a collar, and he stared, mouth dry as the heavy cloth dropped to the ground. There was nothing erotic in the action, but Midousuji felt his heart thud in his chest and in anticipation, he leaned up on the bed, his eyes fixed on the boy as he walked a few feet to the clear space in the room, void of any obstacles that might hinder him. His under robe was white, as pale as the moon, and Sakamichi reached back, untied his hair, and shook his head forward. A cascade of black fell over the white material of his robe.
"There is no music, and therefore it will feel strange, but please be honest, Akira-dono."
Midousuji was abruptly pulled out of his daze at his name being called, coming back with a shuddering gasp, not realizing that he had forgotten how to breath at the sight of Sakamichi looking so breathtaking.
He lifted his hand and the robe sleeves fell, giving only a slight show, a brief reveal of the expanse of the skin of his wrist and the sight made Midousuji bite his tongue.
He understood why men found dancing so entertaining, why they would pay such unbelievable amounts of money to see a woman dance. He would've given his very soul to see the sliver of skin on Sakamichi's arm again.
Then Sakamichi moved, he bowed, and his hands curved with such grace and beauty that Midousuji felt as if time had stopped.
And Sakamichi danced for him.
Midousuji felt a burning in him, the heat of want and desire, all fueled by a fierce zealous love.
Every arc of a leg, every coy twist of an arm, and every warm smile made Midousuji want to leap out of his skin and touch, breath, rejoice that there was someone so beautiful, so alive, and here with him. He never thought that the human body could look so beautiful, so heavenly.
All he had ever done in his life was destroy and rip apart and fest on pain of other humans.
But this, this was holy, and he did not deserve such a sight.
When Sakamichi finished, he kneeled and Midousuji wanted to shout at the travesty of the lord kneeling before him.
"Was I well?" Sakamichi said to a lovesick thunderstruck assassin. "Will you come with me?"
He couldn't speak, for his heart was in his throat and all he wanted to do was touch the silk of his hair, and feel his warmth against his face.
"Akira-dono?" Sakamichi reached out on all fours searching for him, "Akira-dono… Did you leave? Did I bore you?"
Midousuji wanted to laugh at that, but he was still struck to the bone, and Sakamichi reached him, touching his robes, "Ah… You are still here. Why did you not speak? Are you trying to find a way not to offend me? Do not worry for my account, I trust you always tell me the truth."
Midousuji still doesn't speak, the burning in his veins causing him to catch the small wrist with his hand, and then he reached for the other, trapping his arms and he leaned down and kissed the skin there, touching him with the cloth on his face. He was so warm, so soft. Midousuji pulled down his mask and pressed his lips to the wrist this time. Contact felt like heaven, blessed and holy. Sakamichi gasped and stilled under his lips, and he lifted his hand into the touch, "Aki-Akira-dono…"
Midousuji lifted his eyes to see the surprise turn into a joyous smile as Midousuji pressed a kiss against his skin again, to the scar that marred his perfect skin.
"Akira-dono, do you know of love? My father says that love rises from the most unexpected places, like when he found me on the roadside. He had never been inclined to care much for children."
Midousuji frowned, and he stood up, pulling Sakamichi unto the bed, and covering his shoulders with the discarded robe on the floor. After, he kneeled once again at his feet, and reached out to capture his wrists again. He still didn't speak, opting to only listen to the quiet hush of Sakamichi's voice.
"I feel different… since the moment you came into my life, Akira-dono." The hands in his stretched out hand hesitantly traveled up the arm, the wide face of their owner.
"I have always wanted to die in order to fulfill the prophecy once told about me, but…"
Small impossibly soft hands traced his cheekbones, his sharp nose, his thin lips before cupping his chin and pulling him forward. Midousuji's breath was coming fast, his heart wanted to fly out of his chest as Sakamichi pressed his forehead to his, and his unseeing eyes were so deep, so uncanny from this distance, staring straight through Midousuji's soul and his vile actions of the past. And yet, and yet, he did not care.
"But… you make me want to live...You make me want to be selfish and wish for death to come a long, long time from now, when I am old and alone. I want to live! I want to hear your breath and feel your presence every day of my life. Is it wrong to not want to die?"
There were slight tears in the corners of those deep blues and Midousuji wiped them away. He wanted to lean forward and kiss the soft lips near his, like the countless couples he had seen in the cover of the night. He wanted to touch him and embrace him, and kiss him; a physical reaction to the heat coursing under his skin, the buzzing in his toes, through his chest all the way to his fingertips still curled around Sakamichi's wrist.
"I won't let anyone kill you. You will not die." He said, with every fiber in his being ringing the same declaration, because if anyone deserved to go on living, untarnished and beautiful and forever, it was the young lord.
And as much as he wants to crush the boy against him and surround himself in his heat, he also felt sick and unworthy. He was not worthy of anything so untouched and wonderful. He was a dark shadow in a bright room, a marr in an otherwise perfect tapestry, poison in a bouquet of flowers. He shouldn't, couldn't reach up and touch anymore than this. His place was kneeled before him, in humble adoration, and the loyalty struck him all the way to the bone. Right here, right now, he pledged to Sakamichi, no matter where he went on from here, Midousuji would follow and guard his life with his own.
Sakamichi didn't know any of Midousuji's thoughts, and he was the one that pressed himself in, winding thin arms around his neck and falling into the assassin's lap, burying his small face into the hollow of his neck, and even as his thoughts flew apart, Midousuji wrapped his arms around the boy clinging to him.
"I feel so warm, Akira-dono, like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, and I just want you to hold me like this forever." He pressed in closer, his ornate robe falling away until Midousuji held him in the thin white silk, and felt the brush of hair against his cheek.
"Is this love, Akira-dono? I want to live forever, like this so warm and happy, in another's embrace."
Midousuji clenched his teeth together at the words, reeling from the explosions of fire in his chest, like the sound of metal against metal as his mother worked over the fire. It was that heat that suffocated him now. He didn't know what love was, but this… this was something he wanted, forever. Something he needed now that he had tasted it.
Midousuji pressed his lips against the smooth black hair at his temple, to his cheek, and Sakamichi pulled back. "I love you, Akira-dono. I do! I love you…"
Words had never been a point of any importance for Midousuji and he had learned to ignore them since the evil jests of the men of his village, but these words shattered something inside him, pulled his soul out of him with a gasp, as if he had been underwater all this time, and just now learned how to breath, to live.
It was love that burned between them and it was fate that brought them together.
And sitting on the floor, wrapped up in each other, they made plans for the future.
He only meant to return home for supplies, but the general guard caught him on his way out. Midousuji thought for a moment if he should escape, but he knew that the Lord over his town only wanted to plead with him again.
And he was right in his assumption.
Lord Ishigaki smiled at him, kind and fatherly, even if they were not far in age.
"Akira-san, you have been gone for quite some time."
Midousuji grinned beneath his mask, "Not long enough if you're still regent."
The crowd surrounding them murmured in dissatisfaction, but the Lord only raised a hand to silence them. "Have you thought about my proposal, Akira-san?"
Midousuji crouched down in boredom and he responded hastily, "I have, Lord, and my answer remains the same. I will not take command."
The Lord sighed, weary and tired. "Your mother was blessed by the very emperor for the blades she smithed, and yet you do not wish to carry on the blessing? You have always been the type of man that I knew could protect us," He emphasized his new words, "As Shogun."
Midousuji didn't like the mention of his mother or the emperor's seal that he kept within his robes. He might as well tell them of his plans now. He had always hated this city and what it did to his mother and him before this Lord took rule. "No. I am leaving your estate and I am not returning."
Yamaguchi, the soft spoken advisor, stepped forward, "Midousuji-san, the Lord needs you in this time of battle." The lines of his face were sharp and tense. Midousuji merely growled back, "I am not returning. Never again. "
The Lord waved a hand, "Fate had brought you to us, Akira-san, and I believe that fate will bring you back."
Midousuji sneered. Fate had given him something more beautiful, something greater than the position of shogun. The Lord was still giving him that pompous, knowing gaze when a courier came in and went to the Lord's second in command, Nobuyuki. Midousuji watched as the warrior gasped and quickly whispered in the Lord's ear.
The Lord looked shocked and alarmed, and he hastily stood up, "Gather the troops, Nobuyuki."
Midousuji knew he shouldn't ask, but he did so anyways, "Trouble, Lord?"
The Lord stopped and looked at him, before speaking, "We have just received a message from the emperor. An army is headed here. Mongols. They should arrive in three days time. It is time for war, Akira."
Midousuji was suddenly so worried. Not of war or the implication that the Mongol army approaching meant, but where they would land and where they would soon be attacking.
"Where!? Where will they land?"
The Lord passed him by, speaking rapidly to the second and his advisor, and Midousuji jumped ahead of them, stopping their progress, "Which shore will they use to land!?" He asked, not hiding the panic in his voice, almost threatening, but the Lord wasn't afraid of him. The Second speaks, "They will most likely set anchor in the Harbor of the Kingdom of So."
Sohan's land, where Sakamichi was traveling to, and suddenly his stomach felt sick and heavy. The Lord Makishima's kingdom was far from the Emperor City, and would not get the warning in time to save the convoy.
"Lord…" Midousuji started, his mind racing, "If you help the Kingdom of So, I will be your general."
It was a sacrifice, but if it meant Sakamichi's salvation...
The Lord blinked, frowning, "What do you care of the Lord Makishima?"
Midousuji bit back a growl, trying to calm his nerves, "Just know that this is my condition. I will travel there now and warn them." The Lord looked confused, but after a calculating moment, he nodded. "Very well. We will negotiate with So after your return."
Midousuji turned hastily and went straight to the royal stables, flashing his new position to the lad there and took a horse at full speed.
His thoughts raced. Sakamichi only left a day or so ago for the ocean.
The Lord would not get the message of warning for days, and by then, the shores of Sohan will be stained red. Midousuji would not let Sakamichi's blood be among them.
He rode his horse to exhaustion and made the two day journey in a mere night.
The Makishima castle was quiet when Midousuji thundered in, shouting out for the Daimyo. The guards warned him, samurai drawing their swords to attack the intruder. "I have a message of great urgency for the Lord. It is about his son!"
That made the samurais pause and a hulking man in his sleeping clothes called out to a servant. "Wake the Lord. He will want to hear this."
Then he turned to Midousuji still on his horse and the assassin felt like the man was too much like a war bear. "And who are you, messenger? From where do you hail?"
Midousuji narrowed his eyes in response, "I speak to the Lord only."
It didn't take long for the Lord to arrive and his face was tight as he entered the court where they were waiting for him. "What news of my son do you bring? What has happened?"
"I come from the Ishigaki Palace-"
"An enemy!" Someone shouted and the sound of swords clanged through the court. Lord Makishima raised a hand and the court stilled, "And why is an enemy castle heeding news of my son?"
Midousuji kept his head low, "The emperor has received news of a Mongol invasion party coming from the West. They will anchor on your shore, the beaches of Sohan. The very same beaches where your son travels."
The Lord's eyes widened and he called out to his advisor. Kinjou, Midousuji assumed from Sakamichi's too detailed descriptions, came briskly into the room, "My Lord?"
"Where is my son now? Where should he be?"
"His company should have arrived in Sohan yester-night."
He whirled around to Midousuji, "And the Mongols are attacking Sohan in three days time!?"
Panic suddenly lit the court as Midousuji nodded in agreement.
"The gods punished us!" The Lord cried out and he sank to the floor. His assistants rushed forward and helped him gather himself. The shogun stepped forward, the large beast of a man, "My Lord, you need not worry. General Teshima is with him. He would rather die than allow the young master to perish."
Lord Makishima stood and slapped away his helper, his eyes dangerously dark, "General, gather my horse. I am leaving to Sohan."
The court began murmuring, and the lord yelled out so fiercely that even Midousuji flinched, "SILENCE! I will not stay here while my only son is in peril. At this moment, I am not a lord, I am a father. Prepare for war, my general. Send a courier to Hanoe, to Lord Toudou. Perhaps he will set aside his petty rivalry and come to our aid."
The court scurried to obey and Midousuji watched with hope. They can surely make it. The Makishima estate was strong, not overshadowed by the Kings of the North or the Emperor's hand.
"Messenger, speak with me." Midousuji bowed his head, and came closer to the lord, "My Lord?"
"Only my selected court knew of Sakamichi's journey to the ocean. Why does a messenger from the Ishigaki castle know this?"
Midousuji's eyes widened and he looked up meeting the Lord's gaze. His eyes were sharp and glittering blue, like the sheen of a blade before it plunges into flesh. The Lord looked so angry, but he turned his face away and spoke, "I am grateful for your quick action, but do not think you will not be punished for associating with my son."
"I am the new appointed shogun of Sakura Kingdom, and I pledge loyalty and peace between us."
The Lord blinked in surprise, "Shogun? And why is my son-" He frowned, blinked, and then looked grim. He waved a hand to a warrior, blonde hair held back and brown sharp eyes, who came up quickly. "My Lord?"
"Give this man armor and a horse. Let all know he is shogun to our new ally, and fight alongside him as your very brother."
The blonde man bowed and waited for Midousuji to follow.
"Your name, Shogun?" Lord Makishima asked, voice low.
"Akira. Midousuji Akira."
The Lord stood straight, "Your alliance to my son is honorable. Save him, Akira-dono."
And Midousuji swore that he would.
And though they road with fury, Fate, in her petty waning ways, was not on their side.
The Sohan forest leading to the clean shores of the ocean was filled with fighting. Tadokoro, the So Kingdom's Shogun raced into battle, savagery in every line of his face as his troops clashed sword with the shouting large men invading.
The air was tinged red with blood, the trees huddled as the men fought around them.
Midousuji cut down a rushing swordmen, sliding his thin blade through his chest.
Sakamichi should still be in the carriage, safe and shielded. But the invasion party is coming in droves, and the So Kingdom's army was starting to be pushed back. The addition of a war hungry bear that roared out across the forest made some of the Mongols shrink back in horror as the large man brandished his sword with deadly skill.
Surely, now all would be well.
Midousuji rode further into the forest, disregarding the fallen bodies of warriors, and the gleaming carriage came into view.
There was no one around it and that was a warning. Midousuji jumped off his horse, and ripped open the door of the carriage, expecting to see his wonderful bright eyed boy huddled there.
The carriage was empty.
And much to his distress, the side of it was completely destroyed, with slashes of swords and buried broken arrows.
Midousuji stepped back and quickly scanned the area. There was screaming and clanging of metal at the beach, and Midousuji ran towards it. The invaders were streaming onto the shores now, and when Midousuji cleared to the wide open white sands of the shore, his heart trembled in fear. In the ocean, anchored were massive ships, looming over the sea's surface, much like the clouds that hung in the sky, pitch black and threatening.
The gods were angry.
Another roar brought Midousuji out of his motionless state, and he glanced over to a few men staving off a dozen Mongols. He recognized the ornamental wear of a second general as he cut cleanly through an enemy's arm. From the half circle that the So Kingdom's warriors were forming, it was obvious they were protecting something.
It had to be Sakamichi.
Midousuji rushed over, sword in hand, to a rock formation where they might of put him. At least he would have gotten there, if not for a dark haired man with wilderness in his eyes had not stopped him. It was the second general, and he was wounded, cut and bloodied, but he held the sword and kept Midousuji at bay.
Midousuji was about to push him aside, cut him aside, eyes focused on the rocks where Sakamichi might be, when the general stood straight. "Ally…" He breathed, relief in his voice, "How many did you bring!? Is Lieutenant Hajime with you!?" He asked desperately.
Midousuji didn't have time for his questions, seeing how he recognized his own kingdom's garb, "The Prince-"
The general's face immediately tightened, and his sword fell. Those were not good signs at all.
"The Young Lord… We were ambushed and they attacked the Lord first, striking him with an arrow. He is alive, but-"
Midosuji hissed and rushed past him to where Sakamichi was laying, wounded, hurt, afraid, and alone.
Sakamichi's golden robes were strewn about, and the dark brooding storm clouds did nothing to cover the light from him. He looked like a precious delicate flower trampled into the unworthy ground. Midousuji sank next to him, gasping as if drowning, "Sa-Sakamichi…"
It was the first time he had said the young lord's name and even in this moment, it sounded so wonderful.
The boy shifted, "A-Akira! You-You came! You found me! I-I was afraid that… that I would never hear you again!" He gasped suddenly and his face was pale, blind eyes crying.
"W-Where-Where-?" Midousuji couldn't even ask, couldn't speak. Fear gripped his heart and made every bone in his being shake with despair.
Why hadn't he been here? Why had he left Sakamichi alone!? He should have never left his side, never been too far to not be able touch, to protect.
"Sakamichi…" He breathed out, whispering, pleading, "Where are you hurt?"
Sakamichi took in deep breaths and his tears fell more rapidly, "I can not show you… I can not move." He looked so distressed, and Midousuji bit down on his lip until it bled as pain exploded in his chest, raw and untamable. He reached out and pulled the robes off the young boy, feeling vile as he exposed the flawless pale skin to the bloodlust in the air.
He pushed his hand under the thin silk underrobe, praying to any god that Sakamichi was fine, that the general had made a mistake, that Sakamichi was only feeling pain from terror.
But, it was not so. It couldn't be, with Sakamichi crying in agony and how white his face looked, how clammy his skin was, absent of his glorious color, missing was his warmth, and his light was fading.
Midousuji felt along his side, wet and warm, slick liquid under his fingers, and when he pulled out his hand, the red ran down his palm, dripping onto the golden robes.
How many times had he said that he would draw blood from the boy, take his final breath, steal away his life, for a handful of gold? He covered his eyes with his bloodied hand, not wanting to acknowledge that Sakamichi was hurt, was injured gravely, that he might…
No, he could not die. They had just met, just learned of love and the joy, the fullness of life. Fate could not be so cruel, so wicked to tear them apart so soon.
He gathered Sakamichi in his arms, "You will be fine, we have a healer. He will cure you. You will be fine, my prince. You will live, Sakamichi."
One who sees without sight
Sakamichi trembled as he lifted his hands to touch the face of the distraught assassin. "Akira, I-" He gasps, and shook, his small, fragile figure cold even as Midousuji held him close. "Akira- I never sang for you…"
Unclouded by the poison of men
"Don't speak, you-you fool! Save your breath. You can sing for me when you are well. Hush now." And Midousuji felt Sakamichi smile against him, pressed into his neck, desperately trying to wish away the horror of the truth.
Union brought from spilled blood
"I might- I may not be- I may not be able to… Akira...I want to sing for you…" Midousuji felt his eyes fill with water, and he pulled Sakamichi in closer, the shouting and clashing of swords around them. What could he do? Where was the healer? Could he risk running out and trying to flee to the nearest town? How much time did Sakamichi have?"
"Akira…" Sakamichi whispered, and Midousuji brought their foreheads together, in the same way Sakamichi had done not many days ago, when he learned how beautiful life could be with love.
Of the child of light
"Saka-Sakamichi-please, do not-! This is not right, this is not fair! I have only met you. I have only just learned to love-"
Sakamichi pressed his hand to his face, against his lips, halting his words, "It will be alright, Akira. Let me sing for you." Midousuji shook his head. If Sakamichi sang now… "No. No. No. Please." He whispered, and Sakamichi pressed himself against his shoulder, "Please… Akira. Please…"
He could not deny him, and so, eyes wet and red, he nodded against him.
The sea will taste sorrow, and the winds rage
And Sakamichi sang for him, against his beating pulse, and even on the battleground, surrounded by violence and filth of man's savagery, the sound is so pure, so clean, filling Midousuji with golden light, with fierce life. Sakamichi sang, even as his breath became more and more ragged, and his voice trembled and waned.
He sang until his voice was only a whisper, only for Akira.
He sang until he could no more.
and Peace will reign, from the death of...
Sakamichi's body suddenly went limp in Midousuji's arms, and the lull of his voice disappeared into the roar of the ocean, silenced in the hard drops of the rain falling around them, and the thunder from the war that still ensued. Midousuji pulled Sakamichi to look at his face, hoping to only to find him asleep.
He looked empty, like someone had cruelly reached out and crushed the light of his life, like putting out a candle.
He looked…
No! Sakamachi was not- would never…
a victim of fate...
"Sakamichi! Open your eyes! Sa-Saka-"
Sakamichi didn't move and Midousuji shook him, desperate and anguished.
The ocean was so close, and the invaders were busy attacking the new raged troops that had just arrived.
The ocean!
Midousuji stumbled to his feet, Sakamichi still limp in his arms, as he made way to the crashing waves. The sea is cold as he ran into it, sinking all the way to his knees in the storming sea,
"Sakamichi! Wake! Please! Don't leave me! We have only just- We have only-"
The robes floated around him, billowing out in a glorious fashion, making him look as if he was a spirit descended from heaven, like the sun rising in the sky in the morn.
"Please!" Midousuji would kill a hundred times a hundred men for Sakamichi to open his unseeing eyes; the ones that could see right through him and found him worthy of love. He would die a million deaths if he could only see Sakamichi smile at him once more. He would, he would, he would….
But not all of the wishes of an assassin meant anything right now.
"Sakamichi…" He whispered, gripping his golden robes, "Sakamichi, I love you… I learned to love... I found love! Please come back, please… please don't leave me…"
There is no response.
Sakamichi was gone. His smile, his light, his love…. never to return.
And Midousuji mourned, clinging the body to him as the waters washed over them. Tears dripping into the dark storm waters, his cries of agony lost in the gales around them.
The Gods spoke then, thundering across the forest and the shore now tainted with blood, rumbling like a beaten drum. The thunder is quickly followed by light exploding across the sky. Midousuji is suddenly tossed back onto the shore as the waves came rolling high, and higher and higher still. The sea felt angry, felt wrathful, and the massive ships docked out at sea were at its mercy as the waves grew only bigger. The thunder boomed again, louder, more vengeful, and the wind whipped the trees around them, turning leaves into blades. Midousuji followed his fellow warriors, Sakamichi still clutched in his arms, into the underbrush, and the Mongols still on shore were swallowed by the sea in its fury.
They made it to the nearest village, finding refuge in the houses of farmers and merchants. They cowered under the power of nature, under the Divine Wind that swept the Mongols and their plans of domination from their land.
But all Midousuji did was watch the cold, pale figure of Sakamichi, laying in a cot and Lord Makishima, his father, gripping the limp dead hand of what use to be Sakamichi with his.
And though victory was theirs,
no one celebrated.
The ceremony was quiet, as the body of the most beautiful person was being burned, like the sun in the sky.
The typhoon had destroyed all the invaders, devastated their army to nothing, but desperate stragglers that the samurai cut down without mercy.
The gods had given them favor, some said. Others said it was the prophecy being fulfilled.
Midousuji wanted to cut out their tongues
Many attended, all who had been touched by Sakamichi's warmth, by his kindness, by his smile.
Many generals and Daimyos were present, from the Kings of the North, to Midousuji's own Lord, all now allies, in wake of the departure of an innocent life at the hands of enemies from across the sea.
After the cremation service, the ashes were collected and given to Lord Makishima, who bowed and took the urn. He did not cry, nor make a sound, regal and royal as always.
Alliances were declared and the new shoguns were put through ceremony, from the Kingdoms of Sho, Hanoe, Soh, and including him, to pledge their allegiance to the new company of defenders of the Land of the Rising Sun. Sakamichi would be proud, years of war ended with one death.
How fate played her games...
The four generals glanced at each other. Midousuji was the first to take out his blade, the one that he had constantly threatened Sakamichi with, the sacred blade that had once tasted his blood, and he slit open his palm. The stinging pain was nothing compared to the smouldering hate in his mind and the hollowness of his heart.
The other generals followed suit and together they let their blood intermingle on burning ashes.
Peace now reigned the land.
Sakamichi was right.
Midousuji wrapped his hand up and turned, his beautiful general robes whirling around him.
"Akira-dono."
He glanced back and saw the hunted expression of the Soh Kingdom's newest shogun, cold narrowed eyes of a man he once bested in a spar in their youth. "Yes?"
"Does rage also fill you? Or is this a chance to reap from what you did not sow."
The newly appointed general was not amused, and he wanted to fight with the shogun, but they were now allies, cursed allies, and there was only one enemy now. He ignored the glare of the shogun, and the wandering eyes of the other commanders, before speaking. "We are all here for the same reason. Sakamichi. It does not matter what was in the past. Do you disagree, Imaizumi-dono?"
The man flinched at the use of Sakamichi's name, and he gritted his teeth and turned away.
He can't feel any victory.
"Akira-dono." It was Lord Makishima this time that called to him, and Midousuji bowed to the approaching royal.
"Come with me, Shogun."
Midousuji stiffened and mutely followed the Lord out of the court. He had no need to obey, but he did so anyways.
Lord Makishima's robes were such a clash of colors as he followed him into the house. Sakamichi had always said he loved his father because he always did as he was told not to do, like making a blind abandoned commoner his son. What sadness that Sakamichi had never seen what his father wore.
The thought of him sent a numbing coldness down his spine, fear and anger making his heart stutter in his chest.
Midousuji followed the Lord into a room and his eyes widened as he recognized the lavish cozy quarter of Sakamichi's room. He had never entered through the door.
There was a servant there and the Lord quickly chased her out, closing the heavy door behind him.
It was quiet, and Midousuji only stared at the bed where he and Sakamichi had held many conversations, where Midousuji had first tasted love, became addicted to warmth.
"My son...Did you love him, Akira?"
The Lord's voice was only a murmur and Midousuji adverted his eyes as the Lord sat on the high bed.
He didn't say anything and just remembering, just thinking of the boy sent waves of pain through him.
"I am not deceived. I do not know how, or when, but you fell for my son, as many have. But I believe… I believe that he loved you also. He was different in those last days." The Lord sighed and touched the silk under his hands. "So, I will not punish you nor hold a grudge. If you made my son happy, made him want to live, then… I am thankful for that."
The Lord's eyes were red rimmed, and though he didn't see any tears now, he knew that he Lord is a man and in pain, in the very same way he is now. "So what drives you now, Akira-san?"
Midousuji paused and with resolution, he spoke.
"The gods gave me life and with the same hand took it from me. I live now only to bring our land to victory. If that is what Sakamichi died for, then even the emperor I will oppose."
Lord Makishima smiled, and it was utterly terrifying, "General, you speak treachery."
Midousuji stood straighter, "I speak only truth."
The Lord smoothed his hands over the silk, and then stood up, with all the grace of a Daimyo, "Then we shall kneel together and the same sword will pierce our hearts. I, too, stand for my son. I fear not the emperor, the Mongols, or death. All I fear now is the life without my son. Do you feel the same?"
Midousuji searched within himself, for the fear the Lord was speaking of, and yes, there beneath the numbness and wrath, and the consuming loneliness, was fear. Who was he now and how could he live?
"My son is gone, but his love, his light, remains. I do not fight for the land beneath my feet nor for the trees that sprout from the ground. I fight so that not another father shall have to suffer his son being taken from him, for the peace my son believed his death would bring. Finally, we are united. The wind is our friend and the sea our ally. We must fight."
Midousuji felt the power in his words and he bowed to the Lord.
War did ensue, but not amongst the Shoguns and their Daimyos, but against the barbarians across the sea. Midousuji was fated to be a Shogun and his strategic mind made victory reign over the land. He led with quick efficient strikes, destroying his enemies like an assassin in the night.
But when the battles ended, and Midousuji was alone, all he could think of was that night when a creature so beautiful danced for him and he felt what true, pure love felt like.
They were all victims of fate, pawns in her hands, and it was now that Midousuji wished for the quiet complete solace of death and hoped that when he was reborn, that he may have another chance to say all the words of praise and worship that grew dead in his mouth.
And Fate, in her divine ways, granted him his desire.
Years upon years later, a boy hurried to catch up with another boy, pedaling hard to ask a question, calling out just like in his previous life, with infectious joy and eternal kindness.
"M-Midousuji-kun!"
Notations:
I am VERY sorry. I will not do it again. ( I will try not to, at least)
and please ignore the historical inaccuracies. I gave up halfway through. Also, I do realize that all the characters are sort of OCC, but I went with the dramatic ancient love story motif. I hope you enjoyed it never the less.
This will be the last installment in a while as this was the last chapter I had prewritten. I will (with permission, of course) be writing some of the AUs that I have seen floating around. It simply must be done! If you have an AU or a headcanon that you would like to be written, send me a comment or email. Be warned, I must be inspired and I can only guarantee mediocre writing. But thank you for considering it!
Personal Note:
So I have officially written over 200 thousand words for Yowamushi Pedal fanfics (not all posted yet) and I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed.
(And my Beta, the lovely wonderful Prince, has suffered through all of them. I'm sorry, Prince.)
Either way, what an accomplishment.
So thank you for your kudos. And comments. They encourage me so much!
Chapter 10: Skyline
In Which Onoda finds the corporate world harrowing
Mood Music: Something Good Can Come From This By Two Door Cinema