take a chance

'A sunset that can't be seen, only heard.'

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 15:37:02 GMT

Prompt: 'A sunset that can't be seen, only heard.'
Pairing: Motochika/Mitsunari.
Rating: PG
Notes: I initially wrote this for the musoumeme, but just wanted to re-upload it here since I think it's one of my better ~~moments of genius~~ pieces.

When Motochika managed to somehow underestimate the strength of an incoming wave, he knew it had been too long since he last set foot in Shikoku. What was once common place—the evening sky and the slight sting of salt on his legs--now intoxicated him. But with every step he took, he was also reminded of things, all the things that made Shikoku beautiful. Here, the sand parted under his feet like no other place in the world and the colors of the evening sun knew no equal; no words could describe the feelings of home and eternity a simple beach here gave him.

And yet, his companion—or perhaps now “lord,” as others were contemplating on calling him—managed, in a very short and concise manner, to describe his personal outlook while picking at his collar. “I had forgotten how un-civilized this place was...”

“You were the one who insisted that I bring you here, Mitsunari-sama.”

Mitsunari closed his open fan that hid his face in disgust, “Don’t call me that. I didn’t fight the last battle out of personal greed. You of all people should know that.”

“I only meant the title as respect towards you and your increased status. If it upsets you, I will refrain from using it. Though, if you fear that using the title will cause others to spread rumors of your intentions for fighting Ieyasu, you are not the man I thought you to be.”

The sound of a seagull in the background re-enforced the silence that followed. “I apologize for snapping… I just---I don’t need my companions calling me that…” Mitsunari almost muttered.

Motochika turned to face the sea once more, hiding a victorious smile from his now flustered friend. “So I see you’ve shortened your time between apologies. It took a few years, last I remembered, for you to apologize for your insults when we first met.”

“That was— I...”

A chuckle. “I was only jesting, Mitsunari. I know very well what kind of person you are.”

“Well I, for one, still don’t understand you.”

“Many don’t. I can’t say I blame you.”

Mitsunari watches as two fishermen in the distance bow to Motochika when they spot him and he returns the greeting with a wave of his hand and a slight nod. “Then again, I suppose you have no need for something so trivial. Your charisma by itself could already move an entire army.”

“You exaggerate.”

“The people here were in tears upon your return, Motochika. Being humble doesn’t really work in your favor this time around.”

Motochika pauses to catch an incoming breeze, a warm feeling emerging from his breast as thoughts of his people fill his mind. “I am nothing great. I am merely a representation of their strong desire to protect Shikoku, their families---their futures. Compared to them, I am weak. In the past, though I may have been blinded by my own selfish desire, these people have never deserted me. For that… I could never in my lifetime repay what I owe.”

Seemingly lost in thought while gazing at the setting sun, Mitsunari suddenly sighs loudly. “I can never win against you, can I? You and Sakon both…”

“Is this a lack of confidence I’m hearing? How unusual,” Motochika muses.

“I merely stated a fact, nothing more.”

Motochika shakes his head but ends the conversation, joining his partner in admiring the orange and red hues of the quickly receding sunset. A villager informs the pair that a bonfire is being lit on the beach that night and is delighted when Motochika asks him to prepare a round of food and sake for him and his guest. Lost in the moment, Mitsunari is stunned when he notices the sun had fled completely, leaving only darkness in its place.

“Does the sun always set this quickly in Shikoku?” he asks, his eyes struggling to adjust to the new surroundings. He can only hear Motochika as he slowly steps towards him, unfazed, undisturbed--- like a bat in his natural habitat. And then he feels it, fingers delicately tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. His heart races and only accelerates when he notices how close the other is, so close that Mitsunari was almost certain the heat he felt wasn’t just coming from him alone.

When he spoke, it shattered all the breath in him. “You can never see the sun set but…” His voice drops to a low whisper and leans in, lips so close to Mitsunari’s ear that the latter could almost feel them, “…if you listen closely, you can definitely hear it.”

The bonfire in the background blazes alive. Motochika had somehow already walked past him and was speaking to an excited villager. Mitsunari stares, almost in a daze, and lightly touches his ear. The whole event seemed like an illusion until he swears he sees, for a brief instant, Motochika looking back at him, his eyes a bit brighter than before, on his face a mischievous smile.

#18- goodbye

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 08:10:57 GMT

Written for warriorsslash_50
Theme: #18- goodbye
Rating: PG?
Pairings: None [Motochika/Mitsunari if you squint really hard]
Warnings: NPC death, Flask sharing (aka swapping spit, indirect kiss, however you want to see it), Mitsunari giving a shit about someone else, uploaded at three o'clock in the morning.
Notes: Kokia’s “Time to Say Goodbye” is such an amazing song. [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MI6vSnLx7NI&feature=related]

~~~~

Life, happiness… change, sadness and death; all was a part of being thrown into the creation of history and the waves of destiny. Gripping his weapon was all he could do, but even then he didn’t feel any more powerless than if he had been surrounded by faithful retainers instead of out in the open, vulnerable and alone. If it was his time to go, then so be it. Fight to the bitter end he while he was still alive and quietly go when it was time for his life to end: so he promised himself the very first day Shikoku and its people was left in his hands. He had decided he would have no regrets and no remorse when that time came, but he couldn’t help but be saddened by the idea that he would never see his son again.

The inevitable shots were fired. As if the heavens had heard what were to be his final thoughts and decided to play a cruel game with him, in an instant, Nobuchika was there. His face couldn’t be seen but there was no doubting the crest on the back of his attire. Five times .At least five times the bullets pierced through him within a matter of a minute. But as he stumbled forward on one knee, finally collapsing on the ground before him, it only took an instant for Motochika’s world to shatter.

“Nobuchika!”

He jolted upwards from his futon, emotions running high from the dream, eyes wandering around the darkened room. As the silence of the night overpowered his heavy breathing, he wiped the sweat from his brow, looking downwards to calm himself. The moonlight was still at his feet; it hadn’t been long since he retired for the night. Two weeks had passed since Nobuchika’s death and even his more distant retainers had begun to notice his weariness from lack of sleep.

Deciding that the nightmares weren’t going to let him sleep this night either, Motochika slid open his doors and stepped outside into the small garden. The light from the moon was remarkable and the weather that time of year was pleasantly cool. In the past, it was at times like these he would enjoy playing the biwa the most; sitting outdoors watching the moon, synchronizing his melody with the many sounds of the night-- whether he was alone or with company at the time, the feeling of tranquility would be the same.

But without the ocean waves, it wasn’t the same. Every instance he tried to play, to get his mind off things, to soothe his endless nightmare, he would end up feeling more alone than before. Nobuchika never had much talent for music, but that never prevented him back in his toddler days from crawling into his father’s lap, eyes wide in awe at the sounds that came from the instrument, and attempting to strum the strings himself. Never had Motochika thought that fond memories could turn into painful recollections so quickly.

“Can’t sleep?”

Motochika could not recall the name so quickly and took a moment gazing at the stranger before he finally matched one. But even then he found that he had nothing to say and turned to return to his room.

“Do you hate Lord Hideyoshi? Do you blame him for the loss of your son?”

The last thing he needed to hear was a lecture from a conceited man, but nevertheless, he answered, “I do not hate anyone, nor do I blame anyone. What happened, happened… that is all. Even if I did… it would not bring my son back. Excuse me.”

When it seemed as though the conversation had ended, the man spoke again when Motochika had just about reached his room, “… Strong words from someone who looks like they haven’t been sleeping well.”

Confused if the comment was to be regarded as pure sarcasm or masked concern, Motochika turned to face him. Mitsunari had now stepped out in the garden as well, taking notice of the full moon. His expression was far from gentle, but something in his eyes and demeanor expressed that he meant well. Something of a smile crossed Motochika’s face when he noticed the other’s increasing dark circles in the light. “It looks like I’m not the only one,” he remarked softly. The other scoffs.

“I’m not Lord Hideyoshi’s Chief Advisor in name only. Though I have developed an awful case of insomnia because of it…” Mitsunari mutters. His companion smiles, more noticeably this time, amused at the confession he assumed was only brought upon from the other’s lack of sleep.

Mitsunari sighs loudly, as if annoyed, looks over to the darkened hallways and calls for a nearby attendant to prepare some sake and sweets. Taking another look at the sky, Motochika steps back into his room for a moment before reappearing with a familiar instrument in his hands. By the time the preparations were completed and the attendant had excused himself, he had finished adjusting the biwa’s strings. Mitsunari seated himself next to him, curious at the un-expected night entertainment, and poured the both of them a drink.

When his fingers graced the strings, it was as if the night itself had held its breath to listen. There was no planned song when he first proceeded, but as he strummed chord after chord, string after string, he suddenly paused at the chorus: it was the young Nobuchika’s favorite melody which Motochika had decided to begin with. While it held no important significance for his guest, Mitsunari looked on, patient and silent. A breeze blew through the area and musician started the melody again, this time faster with more rhythm accompanied by a long, sorrowful crescendo in the works. Vibrant were his actions, demanding were his notes, yet alluring was his melody, and so entrancing that nothing else in the world seemed to exist during the performance. And Mitsunari listened, listened to every note, every chord---every word, every lament. Every time it seemed like the instrument would break, it produced an even greater note. On and on, it held fast until the very last chord. Motochika kept his gaze low as he finished.

Having not taken his eyes off of him, Mitsunari was shocked when his companion grabbed the flask of sake instead of the provided cup and took a few good gulps from it before he finally ceased from lack of breath.

“You’ll be drunk before you can finish the next song if you keep drinking like that.”

Motochika lifts up the flask to Mitsunari, who flinches at the sudden action. “If it helps me sleep tonight, I don’t see why it matters.”

The other stares at the flask for a moment before he takes it into his own hands, “You do have a point…”

A long drink followed by a sickened expression as the sake goes down his throat before he continues, “but how about a few more songs before you go about doing so?”

“Taken a liking to my melodies, have you?”

Mitsunari shrugs. “It’s something to pass the time until we get drunk.”

The two share a small laugh when leaves and flower petals from a nearby tree are twirled into the air when a sudden powerful breeze interrupts the scene. Both men, surprised, gaze at the unique dance, but only Motochika hears the additional whispers as it dissipates into the sky.

I’m sorry to have kept you here for so long, Nobuchika. Thank you for being patient with your father’s selfishness…*

Mitsunari turns again to Motochika when he re-positions the biwa, a smile on his face. “It would be my pleasure,” he replies.

~~~~

A/N: It was noted in Komyo ga Tsuji that if one grieves too much for a deceased person right after they pass away his/her soul won’t be able to travel to the next world. I thought that was interesting and decided to play off of that a little.

#23: Waking Up Alone

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 06:36:16 GMT

Written for: 30_cuddles

#23: Waking Up Alone

Rating: PG 13-ish + Warning of ANGST

Pairing: Sakon/Mitsunari

Notes: An AU ending of the Battle of Sekigahara of sorts. Inspired by Amano Tsukiko’s Koe. Translated lyrics credited to animelyrics.com. LINK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOI9Jq8NH9Q

~~~~

My heated haze, which hangs bewitchingly in the air,

Simply drowned in the days that will not be granted to me.

You are not here,

I know that.

It was not quite morning when he slowly regained consciousness. A strange sensation, stronger than the lingering pain in his abdomen, told him something was out of place. The heavy scent of gun powder in the air had been replaced with fresh morning dew, the cloudy, foggy skies with fine wood. Last he remembered, he was covered in blood and lying upon a straw mat, the best bed available on the battlefield. Finding himself wrapped in clean bandages upon a comfortable futon with chirping birds just outside the doors was almost enough to convince him that he had passed on to the other realm.

He lifted his hand in the air and stared at it. So he had survived after all.

The memories floated back like a dream: canons, soldiers, Mitsunari… gunshots, blood… Sakon closed his eyes. He recalled muttering something back then through his pain, something like, “I’ll be okay,” but he never knew if the thought ever left his mind or if his lord took notice; he had tightened the grip on his hand, kept his gaze low, but said nothing.

I know that look, damn it. Don’t give up, don’t you dare give up.

His wounds were painful, but Mitsunari’s grip as it loosened and slipped from his fingers was even harder to bear. As he was moved to the rear camp by a couple soldiers, everything faded out into the image of his backside…

“You’re awake.” The soft voice nearly stopped his heart, but in a good way. Sakon turned his head to the side and, sure enough, saw his lord seated next to him, smiling. The relief of it all and his slightly hazed mind prevented him from doing anything but stare. Mitsunari’s usual frown soon made its way back to his face.

“What?” he questioned.

“… Smiling really doesn’t suit you.” The older man joked, a few dry coughs escaping from his lips when he chuckled. Mitsunari frowned further.

“If you can make comments like that I’m going to assume you are fully recovered. Stop laughing already, you’re going to open up your wounds again.”

“Right, right…”

The sun was beginning to rise and its first rays touched the screen doors. Mitsunari stared towards the light with a strange peaceful expression. It was unlike any face that he had seen his lord make, and though it was void of any sadness, it was absent of any joy as well. A change from the usual frown or occasional smile, it was quite mesmerizing yet… lonely. After some observation, Sakon, feeling well enough, sat up to watch the sight with him.

“How did the battle go? I’m sorry I was no help,” he asked softly.

The sunlight was now rapidly pouring into the room, like waves to a shore. Golden hues graced Mitsunari’s face for a moment. He opened his mouth, as if to answer, but no words came. No smug comment, no serious recollection, even the earlier expression had disappeared from his face. Sakon placed a hand on his shoulder, concerned. “Is something wrong, To—”*

“Sakon,” Mitsunari interrupted, “promise me something.”

“…What is it?”

“After you recover, find a new lord to serve.”

The mysterious sensation from earlier burned through his chest and leapt into his throat, almost cutting off his voice. “What are you saying…?”

“The fighting isn’t over yet. With your skills it shouldn’t be a problem—”

“What’s gotten into you?” Sakon grabs his shoulders but Mitsunari doesn’t look away. Words are not exchanged but his collar is open and the slight imprint of a thin red line around his exposed neck suddenly makes everything clear---painfully clear. When he looks back into Mitsunari’s eyes, they are damp, wet, but he does not allow the tears to fall.

“No…” Sakon closes his eyes. “No…” he repeats.

Mitsunari gently addresses his guilt and leans against his chest. “Promise me… promise me that you won’t give up living. Promise me that you’ll see everything through until the end… even if it means throwing away your loyalty to me. That’s all I ask. Please,” he whispers.

Sakon wraps his arms around Mitsunari’s back, burrowing his face into his neck. “You’ve got to be kidding me… am I delusional?” he asked in a low voice, “You’re warm… I can touch you. You can’t be--”

The sunlight suddenly feels extremely warm and when Mitsunari grips his kimono, he knows it is time to face reality.

“…I promise you.”

In the silence, he could almost hear his lord smile as he removed himself and rose to open the doors to the garden. The sun flows freely past him and a small breeze blows through the room, brushing the hair back from his face as he inhaled deeply. Turning around, he smiles one last time and turns back to the door. The next ray of sunlight hit the door and he was gone.

Sakon buried his face into his arm and chuckled. “That’s just like you… selfish until the very end,” he whispered to no one in particular.

~~~

*Sakon was about to say, “tono,” the Japanese equivalent of “my lord.”

*Notes: I’ve wanted to spice this piece up a bit before I finalized it, but I realized it was much too short to do so. OwO; I’m terrible at writing emotional description, I hope this wasn’t a huge flop in regards to impact. *FLAILS*

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Fri, 26 Dec 2008 03:49:42 GMT

Written for 30_cuddles

Theme #8: Body Heat

Pairing: Sakon/Mitsunari

Rating: PG

Notes: A small fanfiction to celebrate the holidays. MERRY CHRISTMAS FIGHTING_OUTSIDE! 8D

~~~

Had anyone told him before hand it was going to turn ridiculously cold by that evening, he would have just stayed in bed, feigning illness, fatigue… anything was better than waking up to piles of unwelcome snow and a cold floor. The sudden weather had halted any preparations they had for conquest, so Lord Hideyoshi had decided that sake and noh dancers were the way the to go. While the freezing weather had inspired his comrades to drink merrily, Mitsunari was neither inspired nor amused.

Bundled up in his winter kimono and scarf, he twirled the sake around in his cup, unable to get into the mood. An uncomfortable heat had made its way to his face and the room began taking a little spin of its own. Suspecting intoxication, he closed his eyes for moment to gain control. The maid that was serving him drinks became concerned but he told her softly it was nothing.

Swallowing the last of his drink, he stood to leave. “Something wrong, Mitsunari?”

“It’s nothing, my lord. I’m feeling a bit ill, so I wish to retire for the night.”

“Are you sure you are alright?” Yukimura asked.

“You look rather pale…” Kanetsugu added.

Mitsunari managed a small smile, “I’m fine. Enjoy yourselves.”

~~~~

The cold had inspired Sakon to ride into town for some sake and fish. But even after a quiet evening to himself, at the end of day, he couldn’t help wondering if his little getaway had angered his lord in some way. Sure he had dropped hints of it here and there, and even wrote a letter informing him before hand, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty. His lord wasn’t the most flexible person when it came to weather, after all. He stared out in the almost deserted streets as the snow continued to fall…

“… Are you still cold, my lord?”

Mitsunari poked at the coals in the kettle with a small stick, pretending not to hear the question. However, he couldn’t help replying a moment later with a sneeze and a slight sniffle. Sakon smiled, shook his head, and he covered the other with a spare blanket. Snow fell silently between them as Mitsunari pulled the blanket tighter around him.

One of the coals cracked. “Sakon…”

“Yes?”

“…Never mind.”

He took his last swig of sake, attached his untouched jar to his waist and said his goodbyes to the stand owner.

“Leaving so soon, Lord Sakon? Have to get back to your wife?”

Sakon didn’t turn around, but waved his hand in the air and replied, “Something like that.”

By the time he returned, most of the castle had retired for the night. The jug of sake against his waist was still relatively warm and Sakon decided that it would have to be his compensation gift as he headed off in the direction of Mitsunari’s room. He was surprised when he stepped into a dark room as he slide open the doors, since hadn’t expected Mitsunari to be asleep so soon. About to leave, he noticed that the usually sound sleeper was fidgeting more than usual. Upon closer inspection, he found Mitsunari was shivering and breathing rather abnormally.

“My lord?” he inquired softly. Mitsunari didn’t open his eyes. As he lightly touched the side of his face, Sakon found the other man had broken out in a cold sweat. Placing a hand on his forehead, gently sweeping away his bangs, the skin underneath was warm the touch. Sighing, Sakon got up to retrieve some medicine when a hand gripped his kimono sleeve.

“… My lord?”

Sakon hide a smile and asked to leave, claiming that he had errands to run. He watched Mitsunari for a reaction, but the younger man said nothing, did nothing. It was only when he reached for the sliding doors…

“Wait…”

“It’s cold…don’t leave…” Mitsunari murmured.

Not one to refuse an order, after removing his outer kimono, Sakon slipped into the blankets. Mitsunari’s face cringed at the sudden cold that invaded his space, but quickly found himself attached to the coolness and snuggled towards the older man. As he allowed his lord to get comfortable, Sakon stroked the back of his head and pulled him closer, planting a small kiss on his forehead. He thought that he heard Mitsunari mutter something before he fell asleep again, but by then his head was too fuzzy from the warmth and alcohol to be sure.

Mitsunari had fallen asleep on futon and Sakon was now feeling the effects of letting his lord use his arm for a pillow. He contemplated on moving his numb limb, but quickly decided against it. He glanced at Mitsunari’s sleeping face again before closing his own eyes, reminding himself that the pain he’d feel a few hours later was worth it.

~~~~

One fast tidbit of Sakon/Mitsunari...

Thu, 18 Dec 2008 18:34:45 GMT

30_cuddles

Theme #10: afterglow; put your clothes on

Pairing: Sakon/Mitsunari

Rating: PG-13 (Kissing, touching, mentions of smex)

Notes: THE AFTERMATH OF “MUSIC” 8D …No, not really. But it could be.

~~~~~~

The sound of shuffling clothing tickled his senses. From what he could tell the sun had just risen; noticeable sunlight had spread itself on the screen doors. Before he could indulge in his early morning haze, however, an unpleasant thud to his head shook him from his slumber. He opened his eyes, stared for a moment at the pillow that assaulted him and then towards his attacker. Mitsunari, the left side of his hair flared up from the night before, towered over him with crossed arms and a slight frown. He said something, but Sakon was too distracted by the little hazel curl and his lord’s exposed neck line to register any of the words.

“Are you listening to me?”

“… Do you really expect me to take you seriously with hair like that?” Sakon mused.

Muttering to himself, Mitsunari grabbed the left side of his head as if trying to hide the unusual feature and sighed in frustration. “I have work to do, do me a favor and put your clothes on.”

“It amazes me that you’re up, before me no less. Apparently, I need to work on my techni--”

“Sakon!”

A slight chuckle. “Yes, my lord.”

Mitsunari, satisfied when his retainer finally made an attempt to dress himself, attempted to eliminate the raised portion of his hair. Failing with a comb earlier that morning, he tried threading his fingers through the ringlet and flattening it by rubbing his palm on the spot. When his attempts proved futile—and only served to ruin his image further-- he sighed, almost groaned, and absentmindedly flicked at the nuisance. Feeling eyes on his back, he shot a quick glance at Sakon, who turned around just in time to pretend he was busy fixing his attire instead of snickering in the background.

Mitsunari scoffed and turned to gather his outer kimono from the floor, only to jump at the arms that suddenly invaded his waist and the light kiss that was planted behind his ear.

“What are you doing?” he asked, obviously un-amused.

A small smirk. “A return gift, for those neck nibbles last night.”

“I never bit you,” was the reply, said half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Are you sure about that?”

Sake usually never had a chance to make him do anything embarrassing, as Mitsunari disliked the idea of indulging himself in the drink, but even he had to admit slight intoxication yesterday night. Mitsunari turned his head and peered suspiciously at his partner’s neck. “You don’t have any—mmph!“

Adequate punishment would have to be issued later. That is, if Mitsunari remembered anything past the fleeting sensation of the older man’s lips as they barely touched upon his and the sensation of his cool, rough hand as it slipped into his kimono and glided across his collar bone. Unintentionally reacting to the sudden chill, he slightly parted his mouth and allowed himself to be turned as the other gently pulled him in for another kiss. Mitsunari would never admit it, but he found he rather enjoyed Sakon with his morning hair, slightly tousled, free from the usual neat ponytail. Unable to resist, he carefully thread his fingers through the dark matter, earning him an intriguing noise from the other man.

“Did you just growl?” Mitsunari questioned, breaking off the contact.

“Maybe,” Sakon answered. About to sneak in another small kiss, he stopped short when Mitsunari lifted a small comb to his lips.

“If you have that much energy, fix my hair.”

A command resembling that of a small child’s, but still a command nevertheless. A quick mischievous smile earned him a moment’s pleasure of witnessing a slight fluster that rose to Mitsunari’s cheeks, though he tried to hide it by looking the other direction. Laughing, he took the comb offered and replied, “Of course,” as he ran his fingers through his next task. Mitsunari frowned further.

It wasn’t exactly the method that Sakon pictured to get his lord back onto the futon, but it would have to do. After all, he couldn’t have asked for better future blackmail.

~~~~~

*…I feel weird writing a blush scene. I usually try not to make male characters blush, mainly because it makes me feel like I’m degrading their masculinity (not like Mitsunari has much to begin with… *GETSSHOT*), but I thought it fit in nicely this time so I tried it out.

**I apologize for the crappy ending. And the weird flow of this piece in general… might fix it later if I get some inspiration.

~~~~

Theme #44- You will die and I will take over

Fri, 24 Oct 2008 22:02:53 GMT

#44: You will die and I will take over

General: Cao Cao/Young Cao Pi (Like anyone DOESN’T think of Cao Pi (or Sima Yi) when they read this prompt)

Rating: G (It’s not incest/pedo either, not even if you squint… SO STOP SQUINTING.)

Notes: Zihuan is Cao Pi’s style name.

~~~~~

As much as the young boy enjoyed being the center of attention, he disliked being involved in pure groundless gossip and endless speculation. The maids and servants didn’t really bother him to any measurable degree, though his mother never believed his pleas and kept comforting him with words and an occasional rub on the back. Lady Bian was strong yet caring, refined and collected, a woman that he respected. Zihuan often wondered if his father, whom he had never met, possessed the same qualities. However, every time he would ask, Lady Bian would smile, and he would immediately shy away from his curiosity, not wanting to seem like a child who longed for his father’s love.

It was clear to Zihuan, in any case, that he was more skilled at running from his father’s affection, which had currently taken the form of a personal tutor Cao Cao had hired personally for the young prince. Stealing a glance at his surroundings before he dared to emerge from behind the pillar, he quickly crossed the garden, taking special care to not slip over the wet rocks as he crossed over the small river. As his feet met with marble floors again, he quickly slipped behind another pillar as two strikingly contrasting figures walked past.

“…but man, divorcing her right after her son died, it doesn’t seem right.”*

“Our lord has no need for a depressed woman.”

“…I see now why you can’t get any women, Brother Dun.”

Zihuan almost sighed upon over hearing yet another conversation about the recent chain of events. Half expecting the one addressed as “Brother Dun” to answer in retaliation, Zihuan was surprised to hear, “You there, why are you hiding?” Quickly deciding that he didn’t want to get involved in the process of explaining himself (not that he should have to anyhow), he dashed off in the opposite direction but not without first shooting a small glance towards the men before he completely vanished out of sight.

Xiahou Yuan looked at his elder brother, “Call me crazy but did that kid’s eyes remind you of…?”

“Yes... they were eerily similar to Cao Cao’s...”

~~~~

Zihuan took a deep breath as he stepped up on a raised section of the pathway, barely grasping onto the rail ahead in an attempt to pull himself up. Narrowing his eyes in response to the incoming breeze, he tiptoed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the town below. The most elevated area of his home was somehow his favorite place to be ever since his mother had casually introduced the place two years ago. He often indulged in writing poetry when he visited this area, for it gave him great inspiration. Other times, he would simply wander about, sometimes attaching himself to the rail to catch the incoming winds or kicking his toy ball against the doors just opposite of it.

A series of footsteps soon distracted him from his activity. About to hide again, he stopped when he realized that it was his mother accompanied by her chambermaids. “Mother,” he greeted.

Lady Bian sighed. “I thought I’d find you here, Zihuan. Why are you skipping your lessons again? Teacher Li is most displeased about the whole matter. Do you not understand the value of education?”

About to respond, an unfamiliar, deep voice interrupted the scene. “I would like to hear your answer as well, Zihuan.”

Lady Bian turned, Zihuan not failing to take notice of her fast changing expression and the curtsies of the chambermaids. “My L--”

She was quickly cut off by the stranger, who had raised a hand. Elegant hues of blue and purple with patterns of gold decorated the attire of the man who emerged, his face displaying no signs of the amusement that accompanied his words earlier. Slight facial hair and strong, dark eyes—seemingly the same rich black as his hair--- graced his features. Zihuan eyed the stranger carefully, studied him, but felt no need to hold back his thoughts, despite the noticeable tension between them. He had his speculations, but kept his emotions from surfacing.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Mother. Teacher Li keeps on repeating concepts I already understand and won’t listen when I tell him I want to move on. His lessons were a waste of time and so I avoided them.”

“Zihuan…!”

The man showed no change in expression. “So, the tutor I personally hired for you is inadequate, is that what you are telling me?”

As he allowed the confirmation of his suspicions to sink in, Zihuan met the stranger’s gaze. “Yes… Father,” he replied, feeling a strange sensation as he allowed the last word to slip from his mouth.

Lady Bian wasted no time in defending her son, for fear of her husband’s anger. “You must forgive him, my Lord, he is only a child.”

At this, Cao Cao suddenly smiled, “Indeed, and he is definitely my child.” He knelt to meet his son face to face and Zihuan merely stared back, unsure of how to react. He initially stiffened when Cao Cao hoisted him up into the air, but managed to grasp his father’s garment as he was neatly set into the bend of his left arm. Saying nothing, Cao Cao advanced towards the railing while Lady Bian curiously looked on in the background. A small breeze passed through and Zihuan took the opportunity to glance towards his father, who was staring off into the distance.

“Are you thinking about Brother Ang, Father?”**

Cao Cao, somewhat surprised by the question, took a moment to answer. “No. It does one no good to constantly dwell on the past. One must always look towards the future, towards one’s own path. Tell me, my son, what do you believe your path to be?”

Zihuan looked up at the sky. A few lone clouds were drifting idly. “To become your heir,” he responded.

“Being my heir is not enough. You must become the future, a chance for the people.”***

The young prince frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean, Father.”

Cao Cao turned his attention towards his son and smiled. Zihuan felt himself being lowered to the ground again and found it strange that he loathed the feeling of the action. An unexpected ruffling of his hair caused him to close his eyes and when he re-opened them his father had already begun walking away accompanied by his mother. The statement, “I hope the new tutor meets your expectations,” and a quick smile from Lady Bian.

Zihuan looked on until they were out of sight and then turned his attention again towards the sky. His father was peculiar; there was no need for such complicated expectations. The day Cao Cao was gone from this world would be the day his son Cao Pi took over.

He knew that was simply the way it was going to be, and not a moment before then.

~~~~~

*Cao Cao had disposed of his first wife, who was the adoptive mother of Cao Ang, his eldest son. The assumption that he divorced her because of her in-ability to get over her son’s death is mine.

**While on a campaign for Jingzhou, Cao Ang was killed by the enemy after giving his horse up to Cao Cao so that he could escape a sudden attack.

*** I’m sorta alluding to Cao Pi’s DW5 ending.

I'm such a history geek. Aha. I'm sorry the setting is probably not 100% accurate since Cao Cao didn't really have any real status around this time but w/e Cao Pi rolls better as a prince anyhoo.

~Brizz (Who really needs to write some pron)

Theme #27 + Random Sakon/Mit Angst

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 05:16:52 GMT

Theme: #27- Music

Pairing: Sakon/Mitsunari

Rating: PG (unless you count sexually suggestive comments as PG-13)

Notes: Forgive me that I have no knowledge of this scene from Empires besides the youtube video, so if I get the actual setting wrong, dun blame me. And likewise I don’t really know Chosokabe all that well, I just thought it’d be funny if I borrowed him. *flails*

*Biwa- A Japanese short-necked fretted lute.

~~~~

At this rate, nobody would have known even if he had perished or had been tragically flattened by the sheer load of his work. Perhaps it was a bit of an exaggeration, but any decent strategist, let alone a normal person, could have concluded the irrationality of not stepping outside for days cooped up in a small room containing stacks upon stacks of old, decaying books, paper, and cobwebs. Walking past the room again, the small noise of a working abacus was the only evidence that human life still existed beyond the doors. It irritated him. Deciding then that enough was enough, he immediately paid a visit to Chosokabe in order to commence his plan to lure the fox out of his den.

After he had promised (and somehow managed) to convince the skeptical man that he wouldn’t break his precious instrument, he casually took a seat in the area just outside his lord’s room and began plucking the strings. Granted, he wasn’t well versed in the art of biwa playing, so he merely strung a couple of notes at a time, seemingly more experimenting with the instrument than actually producing any kind of acceptable music. He inwardly smirked when the young Ishida lord swiftly opened the doors to his study in a mere five minutes, which was in fact, five minutes earlier than the musician estimated it would take.

Mitsunari questioned his retainer with an unpleasant expression.

“Are you going to stay inside and work all day again? What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?” Sakon answered.

“If you are concerned about my health, you should stop that awful racket,” he coldly replied, stress clearly noticeable in his voice.

“I was just playing a little music for you on the biwa. Didn’t you like it?” Sakon inquired innocently, looking up now to his lord, displaying the said instrument in hand.

It took a moment of silence before Mitsunari finally broke out into a smile. “I feel sorry for the poor instrument.”

“There we go, I knew I could make you laugh.” Sakon expressed, smirking in victory.

Mitsunari shook his head. “It seems I’ve lost to you again, Sakon. So? What do you intend to do with me?”

Rising from his position, he approached the younger man and allowed his free hand to run through Mitsunari’s hair before gently resting it behind his head as he leaned in closer. “First things first, as my prisoner I have the right to restrict you from your work until further notice.”

Mitsunari sighed but didn’t complain. “Fair enough.”

“And then, depending on my mood you will be either forced to have a drink with me or subjected to a neck message. Who knows, it might even be both. You’d best prepare yourself.”

A mischievous smirk. “And if I refuse?”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to play the biwa for you again until you comply. But this time, it’ll be in that small room of yours, behind closed doors, with just the two of us.” Sakon replied, dropping his voice to a low whisper. A glint of playfulness emerged in Mitsunari’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck.

Needless to say, after Mitsunari refused Sakon’s offer, Chosokabe didn’t have to worry about his instrument getting broken anytime soon.

~~~~~

Notes: Written for 30_cuddles. I suddenly got dark one night and this came out. Aha.

#24- Crying; tears; unhappiness; heartbreak…

Pairing: Sakon/Mitsunari

Rating: PG

Dawn was just about to break as the last few drops of rain dripped from the edges of the rocks above. It was a damp morning, especially wet on the grounds of which he sat. Perhaps the floor of the cave was cold. Perhaps it was a beautiful morning. It didn’t really matter. He had convinced himself he had no more tears to spill after the few that threatened to fall from his eyes. Mustering all of his strength, he had turned once more to face the ongoing battle, for better or for worse. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, and just as he said, the people weren’t on his side.

And now no one was, not anymore.

“Reporting! Lord Shima Sakon has died from his wounds!”*

Apparently life didn’t go the way it did in folktales. With enough willpower and determination, any obstacle could be overcome. With enough justice in your actions, the gods will watch over you, protect you. No, there was only one truth in the godforsaken world he lived in: humans were capable of both loyalty and betrayal.**

“How could you be so irresponsible…” he muttered almost out of a daze.

Slowly, he felt the remaining poisons he had been holding back crawl down his cheek. As vigorously as he tried to wipe them away, the faster they came, until he could see nothing but his own tears. A chilling wind swept through the cave for an instant and Mitsunari saw ahead of him a blurred vision of a familiar loved one. He buried his face into his arms, not wanting his retainer to witness his pitiful state. His whole body shivered when he felt pressure around his shoulders and a slight weight at his neck. He shook as he allowed some cries to escape him, not being able to contain himself any longer. The grip that encircled him tightened.

“Sakon…!”

“…I’m sorry,” were the words whispered into his ear.

Dawn broke. The illusion vanished. Footsteps lingered at the entrance of the cave.***

~~~~~

*In actual history, Sakon was said to be wounded by gunfire in the battle of Sekigahara. Supposedly, he later died from his wounds, nobody really knows for sure.

**If you don't understand, look up the Battle of Sekigahara and Hideaki Kobayakawa.

*** Mitsunari escaped the Battle of Sekigahara un-harmed, but was eventually captured and executed. I imagined him being caught in a cave as opposed to other places.

~~~~

I admit it, I'm obsessed. 8D Expect to see more of them.. with pron hopefully.

~Brizz