Yay? Actual facts about characters might be wrong ( for example, places and stuff ) D; I don't do research;; heh "
Part 2: Warring Sides
A year earlier. After Oda Nobunaga's death.
On the shores of Shikoku.
"The tides are shifting closer to the west. Let us pray for peace in this turmoil land. Or we shall be destroyed as we destroyed Oda."
The gentle, lovely voice belonged to a small, brown-haired man dressed in subtle green. He had been addressing the large giant standing beside him, towing an anchor that happened to be the size of a small car engine. Motochika-the giant-smiled at his companion slightly, taking note of the darkness in his friend's eyes and wondering if he should wrap a comforting arm around him to remove it.
"Yea, ain't it right… we deserve it though, Mouri."
The man-Mouri-turned to stare at Motochika, inquiringly. "Deserve it?"
Smiling, the purple-clad warrior did as he had previously intended, hugging Mouri close to his chest, refusing to release the man even when he protested. "We're from the south, aren't we? West and south don't mix. Besides, Takeda and Date had desired to conquer us in the beginning anyway."
His face flushed from their contact, Mouri pushed Motochika back roughly. "You're right, of course. But there's no need to touch me. I'm fine."
"Are you really?" Motochika smiled sadly, eyes narrowing to stare at his friend and rival. "That dark hue in your irises, I can see it from all the way here. Now when did your beautiful emerald eyes contain such heartbreaking black?"
Stunned, he could only open and close his mouth. When had Motochika noticed little things like this…?
As though reading his mind, the man being thought of laughed. "I've been noticing you, Mouri. Ever since the day we met at your house in Aki. Who could ever forget a face like yours?"
They continued to stare at one another, one set of grey eyes smug, the green ones flustered and agitated. Finally, Mouri gave his slender shoulders a shrug, lifting his head over to the horizon, to where the sun was slowly setting. The two stood on a high cliff over the edges of Motochika's home town, watching the waves dip and out over the rocks below.
"Are you afraid, Motochika?"
A sudden question, one full of quiet wonder and hesitation.
"Afraid? Of what?"
Mouri grinned, abashed. "Afraid of… life?" Mouri hadn't expected his comrade to reply, but surprisingly him, the giant nodded.
"Yeah, I'm afraid. Who isn't, in this time of war…?" He lowered his head to think, then continued in an even sober voice. "How do you see me, Mouri? Do you see me as someone rash and obtrusive? Or-"
"Very," confirmed the green-clothed man instantly.
"Or do you see me as someone who is rash and obtrusive in order to maintain the well being of his people?" Motochika continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.
Mouri raised a long, skeptical eyebrow. "And how does that help the well being of your people?"
"My people love fighting. It's in their spirit and mine also! If their leader isn't like that, how are they going to survive?"
He wasn't sure if the man was joking or not, though the crazed smile on his oblivious face was far too convincing to be fake.
"Yes, I am afraid of life sometimes," Motochika mused, almost to himself. The unexpectedness of it, the demented warlords and their snappy retainers… The wars blooming over lands every second we turn our backs to it… But if I woke up one day and everyone and everything was at peace… then wow, the world would be fucked up too right? Not really a bad thing, but can you actually imagine that? A world where you and me got along without fighting or anything?"
Mouri smiled absently. "We're getting along right now."
Chuckling, the one-right eye giant nodded. "Yeah. But fighting was how we first met, Mouri. You remember, don't ya?"
How could I forget? The idiot had gotten himself lost after a battle one time. He had stumbled upon Aki territory, starving and ravaged, but when hearing news that the capital of the city he was in had a lord, demanded instantly to face that lord in a life or death duel. Years has passed since that day, but the half-deranged, crazy look on Motochika's face as he begged for entrance to Mouri's house could never leave the man's memories.
"Why do you want to fight me so bad?" Mouri had yelled, staring down at this bleeding one-eyed person. It confused him to see anybody so desperate to shed blood that they could not even rest to recover from the previous battle.
The large person winced before replying, in a voice full of pain and conviction. "I'm takin' over Japan some day…. The sooner… the better…." He'd shakingly produced his anchor weapon, flung it uselessly over his head, and promptly collapsed in a bloody mass of bruises.
Those wild eyes. The dedication. The conviction of a warrior.
"Mouri, what's wrong?"
In the present, the smaller man shook his head to clear his whirling thoughts. He gasped as he realized how close Motochika's face was from his. A few more inches and their lips would meet.
"Your eyes are getting black again. Are you okay?" Motochika's own eyes appeared wide, curious and… savage.
"I'm f-fine, idiot. Why are you so close to me?!" Blushing, Mouri backtracked.
But his rival refused to consent, closing each step of distance Mouri put between them. His mouth rose in a handsome smirk. "Why are you so beautiful, huh? Mouri, a wild flower in full bloom."
"S-stop saying my name like that!"
"How should I say it then? Like this…?"
And Motochika leaned in, pressing his lips against the other's in a soft, gentle touch. Instinctively, as though a greater force from within spurred him on, Mouri's mouth opened to allow him access, returning the kiss with one holding a deeper, more intense passion, not thinking and just acting. Motochika pulled the man's body closer, hugging him and caressing him at the same time. He smiled as they parted, whispering, "Mouri." Another kiss, still as hungry as the first one. "Mouri." A hand running through his hair… onward, touching his face, then his neck and down his chest… "Mouri."
"Stop it, idiot. How many times do you have to say my name?" Finally finding his voice, the bemused, red-cheeked warrior struggled to escape Motochika's tight embrace.
"I'm sorry," the giant apologized, not looking the least bit sorry.
"Let me go…" he pleaded, wanting to stop the passionate stare of his rival's eyes. A stare that caused so many conflicting feelings to flow through him.
A silence, each gazing intently at the other. Then Motochika flushed, hastily releasing the captive in his arms. "I'm sorry…" He looked away.
Mouri tried to make light of the situation, though his voice came out shaky. "What was that? Were you possessed or something, Motochika?"
The giant didn't laugh. "Yeah, probably."
Both men refused to talk further, taking time instead to watch the sun hide behind the horizon, the night air suddenly approaching rapidly. Sounds of nocturnal beasts lurking around the fields rouse Mouri's thoughts. The atmosphere was thick with unanswered questions and a strange new emotion that he couldn't put his finger on no matter what. Though he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.
In the end, as the moon appeared high over the sky, the green-clad man took a deep breath, exhaling heavily. Then he turned to smile at his companion. "What were we discussing before?"
Motochika grinned. "Something about war and fighting, right?"
***
Redemption.
Sins piercing through his angel-like facet, breaking and shattering it. Pieces that can't be collected. Homage. Mother has passed here, bow low or get beaten. Die and remain ignorant. "You are a liability." Insufferable agony. Grasping him into its black soul, greedily sucking his life and blood. Licking the raw wounds, rupturing it… opening the dark hole which has become a part of him. Respect. "Have they taught you nothing? Will you remain stupid and clueless your whole life?" Please her, and she will have mercy on the boy. "She will come to love you."
Curse.
"What do you want here, boy?"
"Feed my soul please. Or the monsters will destroy you. The fresh blood will sate them for now."
"You are worth nothing! You stupid, useless brat."
"…. Then they will come."
"Crying those fucking tears won't help. Have I raised you like this, child?!"
"I am sorry…. Mother."
"He will never be able to bring pride to our house. He can never be the heir to our house…"
"Forgive me."
The knife down over the useless liability, hopeless like him. Pain like stakes impaling his soft flesh, a hole that has no meaning, spilling red over white. Eyes dull, the right one burning and pulsing, crying a river of crimson.
Wound.
"This child is corrupted! Who would do this upon himself…?"
"My name is Date Masamune. I am the one-eyed dragon."
"Oh, the Heavens help us! What are we going to do with him?"
"Do you know who I am?"
"His brother!"
The blood of his own, yet not his. Matching brown hair, soaked through with liquid, empty eyes circling him as he stares back. Stunned. Unbelieving. The sword in his hand, glinting in the dull lamp light. A life not meant to be ended so soon…. Yet gone.
Murder.
"Can you help me…? I think…. he is broken."
"OH MY GOD!"
A scream. Echoing around the compound. Hands reaching to grab him back from the scene, gore caking his very body. His left eye insanely wide. Had he done all of this…? The pieces can not be collected. Shattered.
"WHY DID YOU DO IT? WHY?!! WHY??!"
One pale blue eye staring at his mother. Emotionless.
"The title of heir is mine."
"Does it feel good?"
"No."
"Did he deserve it?"
"No."
"You did this upon yourself. Do you regret this?"
"No."
"…. And that is your sin."
_____
"Masamune-sama!"
Rough hands were shaking him awake, begging him to leave the world of torment. But he could feel the demons of his past crawling all over him, whispering their slurred speech, urging him to join them, to return with them to their home. His home.
Sweat lined his face and body, drenching him in a pool so similar to the ones he had sat steeped in before, though they were darker. His eyes struggling to open, to end the horrible nightmare he had experienced, but the beast would not yield.
"You are mine, Date Masamune. You will not escape this time…"
Such pain that rippled through his skin and under his flesh; the iciness freezing his blood. Building him up for the long fall down, where he would land head first, snapped in two, a torrent of unrelenting water and particles of russet hair parted in the middle, the same innocent blue eyes, and a body hacked in half, dyed in liquid that splashed under his feet. Destroyed by him.
He screamed.
His left eye flew open, wide and panicking. It took another minute for him to calm down enough to focus his brain on the ceiling of his house in Oushu and not the dream that had taken him captive a few minutes ago.
A headache seared through his brain. He leaned over, vomiting, as gentle hands hold him steady.
Katakura Kojuro's face came into view, handing him something to drink. Date shoved him away, feeling as though his soul just left its body. Can't talk. I feel fucking catatonic.
"Masamune-sama," Kojuro was saying, his voice sounding so far away. "Are you okay?"
"What do you think?" he finally spat out with venom.
You're an asshole, Date.
But the bodyguard just smiled, setting the cup on the ground beside Masamune, and standing up. "Call me if you need me."
Kojuro turned to leave, but his lord quickly grabbed the hem of his sleeve. "Don't… Kojuro," Date whispered. "I want to… talk about it."
He paused, staring down at his young master. "Okay." Kojuro settled on the ground beside Masamune again. "The demons?"
The one-eyed dragon rubbed his eyes heavily, shadows on his face. "Yeah."
"What did they want this time?"
"Redemption. They wouldn't let me leave, Kojuro! They wouldn't let me go…."
The guard's gaze flew over to Date's right eye, where a black patch covered it. "Something to remind myself that hell is just waiting around the corner," Date had said. "To feed my guilt."
"What is it this time?" Masamune asked quietly, bowing his head on his knees.
"The 7th time, I believe."
The 7th time he had had a nightmare about… the things he had done in his past. The 7th time the angels of death beckoned to him in his sleep, dragging him closer each night. The 7th time… his heart almost stopped beating on its own.
"Why… Kojuro…?" His voice was small and weak, earnestly seeking an answer to his question.
The older man could think of nothing in reply. His lord, always so wild and crazy, unstoppable and unbeatable when it came to everything. Now, this pale, trembling youth before him seemed like a fake imitation of the man he once knew.
And it was all Oda Nobunaga's fault.
Even when the man was dead and gone, life was still adjusting to all the evil deeds he had done while he lived. The scars that he left on the lives he'd torn away from people, the lands he had destroyed and sullied with death, and the memories that continued to haunt all those unfortunate enough to have met him.
Masamune-sama… Why are you having nightmares again?
Was it truly because of the Demon King? Had fighting him stained Masamune's soul, imprinting a dark and heavy burden on the young man? Had it left so large a wound that the monsters of his past could come rushing back and invade him once more?
"Kojuro…" Date murmured.
"Yes, my lord?"
The youth sighed, landing back on his futon with a thump, avoiding his friend's questioning glance, and gazing up at the ceiling instead. "Tonight, let's go somewhere?"
This request was met with a knowing, yet concerned nod from Kojuro. 'Going somewhere' meant riding on his horse out of Oushu for hours on end, as though flitting through the countryside could possibly allow Date to flit through life unharmed and unscathed. It was a good excuse to elude sleeping.
Masamune turned on his side, casting a sapphire glance at his companion. "What time is it?"
"Early morning. The sun's about to rise."
Another long sigh. "Time to get up then…"
Kojuro rose also, collecting the neglected cup of tea, and heading for the door. Before he left, he said quietly, "Maybe we could visit someone later, to put your mind off of things." The door closed with a small snap, leaving Date alone to ponder the events of his current life the past few minutes.
The young man slipped on a random shirt over his naked upper body, and ran a hand through his messy brunet hair. "Visit someone huh?"
His gaze fell to his six claws in the back corner of his room, forlorn and abandoned in appearance. It was true that he hadn't been training for the past couple of weeks. Silently, he grabbed them, running a skilled hand down their blades, feeling a strange and familiar sliver of excitement. It had been a while.
Who to visit?
There was someone he had in mind, actually…
***
Oh, horrible ending much? ;D