Title: Flowers in the Snow
Pairings: Yuki/Sana X Yana
Warnings: AU, set in when Japan separated into minor unofficial countries, or rather areas in the very old times, not the Iron Age, of course. It's when Japan began to prosper, but it's also a time of chaos, may include untrue 'history' for the purpose of the story. No offence meant in any way^^
Hugely inspired by KunshiSekijou. Also thank you, Kun-senpai (KunshiSekijou) for beta-ing my fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tennis no Ouji-sama^^
NOTE: This fic will be made into a manga with different characters, so please do not use it without my permission. (That should go without me saying it.)
…/
Blood. Blood was all he could see.
The ten-year old stood dumbfounded at the gates to his residence. Tears started streaming down his face. He did not even notice the salty waters rolling down. In front of him, his blurred vision captured tragedy. Sasuke, one who he held dearest, was lying there in a puddle of blood. Now, hatred and sadness seeped deep into him. He closed his eyes.
The sun was settling peacefully beyond the horizons, dyeing everything it touched a bloody red. The romantic meaning of a setting sun perished; this flaring star was deplete of its beauty to him. It was no longer a warm colour, not to this little boy; the sun's radiance and warmth no longer reached him.
The servants rushed about, panicking. Yet, how could they not? For the members of the rich and well-respected Sanada family were murdered one after another consecutively. Japan was in chaos, the clans were in chaos, and this ten-year old's mind was no different. Death was a common occurrence to him. People died everywhere, everyday: it is inevitable. But to occur in the Sanada clan…it was unbelievable; it was impossible, that was until it transpired. The Sanada clan, along with a few other clans, once held the highest military authority in the country: the security was tight and the servants were faithful, but this scene quickly shattered those images. The members of high positions in the clan were killed one after another, starting from a month ago; even his brother was a victim. Rumours spread rapidly of it becoming a cursed clan.
In amidst the chaos, the servants subsided to allow the clan leader, the ten-year old's father, to step into the large yard.
"Chichue!" Genichirou looked up at him when he noticed the large hand resting firmly, but comfortingly on his shoulder.
"Go inside," His father ordered in a softer tone than any other time the boy could remember; he knew that Genichirou always viewed Sasuke as a little brother despite how he scolded him each time the younger boy arrived at the main house, "I'll take care of thingshere."
Obeying, Genichirou went inside with his best friend – Yamada Saburou. Despite the fact that his best friend was a servant, he still trusted him completely and regarded him as an older sibling.
Genichirou remembered how he had saved the man's life two years ago: it was snowing, and winter was the season that destroyed most life. Genichirou had offered the man hospitality. Though his father had rejected the idea at the time, he had gradually come to accept him.
Sitting down in his seemingly empty room, he sighed. He was still crying. He tried to hide it, but he couldn't.
Why was it that a person is only remembered in all of his goodness when he died? He remembered the times when Sasuke would run around, shouting happy, incoherent words when he was younger; the times when Genichirou had watched him growing up; when he took his first step. Genichirou could recall all of the seven years that Sasuke lived. It came flooding to his mind, despite how hard he tried to push them away.
Genichirou started to cry harder: Sasuke had boasted that he'd be the man who unites Japan as one, and rule it not by military force and threats, but by mutual comradeship and trust. At that time, Genichirou had dismissed it as impossible. 'You'll never know until you try!' Sasuke had said in that childish manner of his.
Genichirou's best friend, who was trying to alleviate the boy's sorrow and sadness, knelt beside him in comfort and gently wrapped his arms around him.
Genichirou cursed under his breath. He hated crying. To him, it was the ultimate sign of weakness. He stood up, took a sword and slashed his arm without hesitation. Allowing the red blood to flow freely down his arm, he swore in front of his best friend a blood oath – I'll avenge him, even if it takes my life.
/./././././.
Two weeks later, order resumed in the clan. Though, that was only on the surface. In truth, everyone was worried about themselves. Genichirou hated the selfish murmurs he heard every time he turned a corner in his house. He had a bad feeling, like something more was bound to happen, ever since the murder. He had an exceptional sixth sense, but he did not know how to use it.
Currently the clan's leaders were dealing with political and territorial issues. This country, or rather, this part of Japan – this province was ruled by two clans - the Sanada clan, and the Yukimura clan. But recently, disputes occurred on the leadership of the area. Both wanted to rule. Greed, in other words, had consumed both clans.
On one fateful night, Genichirou was awaked by shouting and cracklings. He sat up. The first thing he noticed was the smoke coming through the fusuma. As he proceeded to open his eyes, he sighted the red flickering and dim fire lights beyond his room.
He was alert immediately; he opened his door in a rush and was welcomed by a thick cloud of smoke. The sight that he took in was something that he never imagined.
Fire was everywhere. It was devouring the trees, dancing on the roofs and taunting him amidst the rooms. The wind was strong; it was in the fire's favour. People were running, screaming and panicking and tripping over each other. The gates were shut and barred, imprisoning his people. Instincts took over and Genichirou ran to his father's room.
"Chichue!" The boy's frustration surfaced gradually until he could no longer suppress it. He was feeling the pressure of being the heir– that he needed to do something. Yet, he felt he was still in need of guidance. He felt ashamed that the first thing he did was to run to his father.
Genichirou fell onto his knees at the sight he witnessed as he entered his father's room. His father lay on the floor so still; blood spilling from underneath his body. Even the great general who led several battles to victory became fragile in front of potent fate.
Too many deaths. Too many unwanted surprises. Too many events to take in for a child. Overwhelmed, he broke down.
A man emerged from the shadows.
Genichirou's eyes widened in fear. Tears were let loose. He knew this man, he knew him as the leader of the Yukimura clan.
That man took one step forward.
Genichirou readied himself to dash away. He was cowering; his hands supporting the weight of his body and his legs set in a darting position.
The man took another step forward.
The boy's face showed signs of desperation.
Another step.
The boy edged towards the exit farther in response.
It seemed like forever. The shouting and the crackling of the fire were in the background, never fading, never forgotten.
Another step. The sword that man held was revealed. Blood trickled down the shining heartless blade.
The boy foresaw his death.
He ran.
He bumped into someone. When he looked up, his best friend was there. The man was blocking the exit.
The supposed best friend smiled. He licked his lips in a sinister way. The fire emitted a dim red light behind this servant, enhancing the darkness that was overpowering him.
Genichirou stared at him as panic started to overflow inside.
A knife was produced from the man's sleeve. The boy's eyes reflected absolute horror, despair and desperation. The boy turned around, only to meet the Yukimura clan leader lifting his sword.
"What a naïve, gullible brat," the voice coming from behind continued, "you are your clan's downfall, remember that. You shouldn't trust people so easily." His grin widened. "You are the same as Sasuke, you rely on others too much."
Genichirou felt utter despair; he never knew how it felt until now. He thought he had felt it when his father scolded him for being not good enough. He thought he felt it when his father slapped him for doing something wrong. He thought he felt it when his mother died as the first victim of the murders. He thought he felt it every time someone was murdered in his family. And he thought he had felt it when Sasuke got killed. No, this was the real despair. Sasuke's killer was right in front of him, and he could not do a thing.
"Leave him," the opposing clan leader commanded in a calm manner, "there is no reason for him to die." Sympathy rang clear in his voice. Sympathy for a young life. Sympathy for a young, pitiful life.
Genichirou hated him even more, not only for killing his father, but also for taking pity on him. He had never felt this weak before. He never felt this useless either, though he hated the opposing clan leader, he despised himself for his pathetic form that he was showing the enemy.
The stare was no longer out of fear, but hatred. The Yukimura clan leader noted to himself. I'll die in your hands to atone for the sins that I have committed. Until then, live. He knew clearly more than any other that hatred can easily engulf a person in darkness, but if it was controlled, then power can be obtained.
/./././././.
It wasn't a dispute. The heir to Yukimura clan thought to himself. He always liked sitting on the garden stool viewing the lotuses in the pond when he was in deep thought. Today was like any other.
The two clans got along well. In fact, they got along better than ever. They faked it; the two clan leaders faked it. This little boy knew that the leader of Sanada clan did not have long to live due to a disease which he had kept a secret even to his own son. Seiichi knew this when he accidentally overheard a bit of the clans leaders conversation. Seiichi was not daft, he could figure the rest out himself; he knew his father well. They planned it, to allow time for the boy to grow, to hand the burden of conquering the country to the next it was a risky move. The little bluenet mused to himself, would I be able to meet him? The heir to Sanada clan?
This little boy, Seiichi, though at only the age of ten he had mastered several styles of weaponries, such as the traditional swords and spears. He was outstanding in anything he learned, including the art of calligraphy and music. But he knew more than he appeared to know and this façade was something that Seiichi was proud of. He learned through his own observations and reasoning, that everybody around him was an enemy. There were few who could truly be trusted.
He had often theorised many aspects of life through his own questionings and answerings, it was one of his hobbies.
Who are you enemies?
The people who oppose me.
Who are they?
They are the ones that would or might betray me.
Who are they?
They are the ones that criticise me and despise me.
Then who are your comrades?
They are the ones that approve of me.
Who are they?
They are the ones that would never betray me.
Who are they?
They are the ones that support me forever.
In other words, your enemies are the ones that will turn their backs on you and stab your back if they had the chance?
Yes, that includes everyone. For betrayal is a part of the human nature.
In other words, your friends are the ones that would take the arrows for you in order for you to live and would not hesitate to save you?
Yes, that includes nobody. For selfishness is a part of the human nature. My only comrade is myself. I trust no one.
But still, Seiichi did not ever pity himself or take time to sympathise with this conclusion that he came to, in fact he mused over it as he would for many other things. He always found comradeship and all those fake pretences hindrance to his own success in life. Of course, he presented himself as nothing like the devil within himself. He was known as a kind and polite child, not an ambitious and cruel one. He never considered this as cruel; this amount of 'cruelty' was needed to survive in this world. That was also why Seiichi put on that kind pretence. To fool people, to seek out the ones that resented him, to encourage them to act early and catch them in the act, and to turn the blade on them.
The white lotus floated on the crystal clear pond as peaceful and as pure as ever. Seiichi knew he only reflected this purity on the surface, darkness was, after all, unavoidable in this life. Darkness did not engulf Seiichi like it did to most, Seiichi used this darkness. He used it to bring out the devil within him in order to survive in this world.
/./././././.
Twenty seasons passed in a flash. The Sanada clan resumed their activity two months after the fire incident led by their new leader, Sanada Genichirou.
The Yukimura clan was still headed by Seiichi's father, and he was getting to bequeath the clan to his son, Seiichi. He had foreseen his own death. Seiichi has also foreseen something, he was getting ready to not only take over the clan, but to meet his rival.
This was when the two children were 15 years old. The country would never wait for its men to mature, Seiichi knew. It was up to the men whether they wanted to mature or to linger upon their childhood memories.
/./././././.
The battle horns sounded, the two clans charged at each other in the vast plain grounds just a good fifty kilometres away from the province that they were fighting over for.
/./././././.
In the distance, somewhere, a teen around the age of fourteen in a blindingly white kimono turned his head towards the sounds of battle in the distance.
He felt a calling.
/./././././.
The battle was fierce and dragged on from dawn till twilight. Both sides suffered great casualties. Thousands lie dying and thousands have died.
The victory horns sounded at the same time Genichirou beheaded the opposition's leader. The rest either surrendered or were killed on the spot. Genichirou counted his soldiers; he then ordered them to retreat back to their territory to treat the wounded.
But he did not return with them. Instead, he headed towards Sasuke's grave after resting. He gently put the offerings down. He has done this often. The visits to this particular grave became a habit, a part of his life.
He remembered something as he walked back; he took a detour to the Yukimura clan's main house.
The atmosphere was grim, further enhanced by the darkness of the moonless night. There was not a single cloud in the sky. The air was refreshing, but the scent of death was still carried around by the occasional breeze.
He forced the steel gates open, and invited himself in.
The first thing he noticed was the contrast between the tranquil garden and the noisiness of the househood. The garden was dark, the occasional jump of the nishikigoi brought life to the pond, the lotuses with varying colours, like a gradient of white to pink and a drop of red touching the tip of each petal, floated in peace on the surface of the clear water. By the pond, there were stone chairs and a round little table under a well decorated pavilion lit by lanterns which contained scented candles, enhanced by the flatterings of the butterflies' wings. It was a piece of scenery that nobody would want to disturb. Genichirou would have stayed there admiring the garden for hours if it was not for that he had matters to settle with this family.
He charged into the house, slashing his sword at everyone he met. Before he realised, he was in the middle of the room with bodies lying messily around him. Blood splattered everywhere. Upon hearing the noises and screams, more people arrived, and the massacre continued.
It was morning when he finally stopped for a rest; he had searched every room except the one that was in front of him. He could sense no fear from within. In fact, he felt fear rise from himself. He assumed that it was from his exhaustion.
The door slid open.
A teen around his age stepped out. He was in the battle attire, complete with an unsheathed sword in hand. His emotionless eyes betrayed his elegance. Those were eyes of a person ready to kill, eyes of someone who had been to hell and back. Those blue eyes were crystal-like, without one hint of wavering feelings or hesitation. Perfect for a warrior. But his elegance was one that belonged only to the nature lovers, those who were the warriors' opposite. This contradiction that existed in the boy puzzled him.
No words were exchanged. The whole house was heavy with silence. Every movement could be heard. That was, If there was any life left in this vast house.
They charged at each other as if an invisible signal was set off. Slashes were exchanged. The clashing of the two swords when they met told of their skills. Their footings were light and flexible. Every second was crucial; they no longer acted by will. They were moving on instinct. It would all be over if either of them made a wrong move.
"Give up." The blade rested on Genichirou's right shoulder, adjacent to his neck. He had lost, Seiichi won by a mile.
Genichirou discarded his weapon, and met Seiichi's gaze. "Kill me."
Seiichi had expected this. He raised his sword. That was when he noticed, contradictory to his grim tone, Genichirou's eyes were those of an honourable soul. They burned fiercely with life.
Seiichi smiled, seeing that face. One would have never guess that he was about to kill the second before. Genichirou stared in confusion. This was not the person he was duelling. Standing before him was someone with kind eyes, someone graceful, with an almost angel-like expression on his pale face. He looked surprisingly fragile, so fragile that it was easy to overlook his might.
"I like you," Seiichi spoke his feelings with a smile, the mellifluous sound of his voice surprised the boy on his knees, "I'll let you live under the condition that you will take me into your care."
"…" It took him a while to digest the words, and a further few seconds to fully understand them, "What?"
"You murdered my entire clan and you expect me to just wonder on the streets?" Seiichi looked right into his eyes.
What a surprising turn of events.
/./././././.
Genichirou took Seiichi into his care. He had finally understood what it means to 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.'
'You wouldn't let me die on the streets, will you? Then you will never be able to defeat me.' He smiled and added, 'Kill me whenever you can defeat me, that way you would be satisfied, right?'
This way, he would be able to monitor Seiichi's movements, or so he thought. Two days after the battle that brought upon his father's death, he had never cried or even as much as threw a glance full of hatred at his father's killer. All Seiichi did was help around in the kitchen, treating the wounded or loafing around smiling all day.
Why is it that his showed him the mercy, the kindness that even his closest friend did not demonstrate to him? He often wondered.
The next day, Genichirou had decided to inspect the battle field. He wanted to know if his 'best friend' was among the corpses. Seiichi tagged along.
Walking through the bloody mess was not to Genichirou's liking, especially after dinner. He made a mental note to never eat before going to a battlefield. Seiichi, on the other hand, showed no hints of nausea. In fact, he was still smiling, wondering around the corpses as if he belonged there.
To Genichirou's disappointment, he did not find Yamada Saburou among the dead. They set off to go back.
Then both of them stopped simultaneously.
In middle of the bloody mess, a teen stood there, his white plain kimono a great contrast to the hell that he was surrounded by. Two streaks of tears by his cheeks were illuminated by the setting sun. That boy's eyes were closed as if in remembrance of someone he once held dear.
Seiichi's smile curved a bit more, he obviously found this boy interesting. He took a few steps towards the teen.
The other turned to face the approaching figure. His eyes were still closed, which Seiichi found amusing. Seiichi could figure out that the teen was slightly younger than them. He was graceful and somehow the air no longer smelled of death, but of tranquillity as he came nearer to the other.
"Why are you crying?" Seiichi posed the question. Genichirou had the sword ready at hand. He never trusted anyone, nor did Seiichi of course, but he would never be as bluntly obvious as Genichirou. Anyone could tell that Genichirou distrusted the teen in the white kimono.
There was a long silence, as if the boy did not hear him, he did not respond to Seiichi's words. But the two waited patiently.
"I'm crying for the lives that were lost here. And also for the lives that will never come, the lives that would never get the chance to make a difference." Came the quiet reply, the sound had no emotions, as if this teen had a thick barrier blocking outsiders from making sense of his feelings underneath.
Seiichi's interest in him rose; he always enjoyed breaking others' barriers to their heart. And he was good at it, after all, he knew that a person may appear harmless but could be the exact opposite. Genichirou was aware of this too, as Seiichi was the epitome of such a fact.
Suddenly, Seiichi posed another question, though it was not directed the brown-haired teen. "Can we take him home?"
Genichirou let his guard down for a split second upon hearing this ridiculous request. He sweat-dropped and face-palmed.
Seiichi took the silence as an agreement, and took the brown-haired teen's hand, as well as Genichirou's, "Dry your tears, they don't suit you." He smiled at the boy in the white kimono. As long as we are with you, I promise to never make you cry again.
The three teenagers walked towards their future together, they have finally met, and their story begins here.
/./././././.