Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

400 Years Apart	By : Cynthermes Category: +M to R > Mirage of Blaze Views: 4238 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Mirage of Blaze and its characters solely belong to Kuwabara Mizuna. I’m just going to creep into a corner of her sand box and play the part of a wannabe historical writer. No profit has been made in the construction of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Chapter Twenty:

War of the Usurpers: Part 8

A/N: The Hojo are caught in a confusing pincer tactic deployed by two unusually cooperating (or are they?) rival/ enemy clans.

Warning: Psychedelic prelude and some shinobi having a battle against his inner demons.

Mild lemon N X S.

*

An empty void ruptures slowly as small sickle-shaped shafts of light permeate. These small crescent moons sway and ripple, gliding outward until the sound of flowing water was heard. In the darkness, the overlapping waves of a lake appeared. Hauntingly beautiful red flowers floated on its surface. They had no leaves so their stems were bare and lonely. Their supple needle pin-like petals protrude akin to the legs of a spider…

Spider lilies…

As they idly drifted above, suddenly bled their rich color into the azure waters. Rapidly and steadily the red crept and tainted the lake like pooling droplets of blood. The flowers withered and died leaving only the vile stain in their wake.

Black silky strands unfurled and fanned out into the blood water. The trickling sound became louder as a large shape floated closer into view. Long-spun hair came first and seemed to propel its origin forward. A much too white forehead and a thin pointed nose emerged. The lips, which could have been the hue of a rose was now tinged into an unhealthy violet.

It was the body of a woman in a plain red kimono folded in a way one dressed the dead. She would have appeared sleeping if not for the straight slash across her neck and another larger wound marring her belly. As water rushed inside, blood bubbled out in a sickening murmur…

Kotarou’s eyes snapped open from where he was standing at the corner of Saburo’s room. He had dreamed the same old dream in his childhood nightmares. Instinctively, his gaze lands on the empty unmade bed.

Its occupant was gone.

The protector curses himself. How could he have fallen asleep and allowed his charge to easily slide under his nose like that? If something should ever happen to his young master— He quickly broke off the dreadful thought. The daimyo would slit his throat as much as he would do so himself if such a possibility was entertained. It was just the nightmare affecting him, making him know fear and pain again like he had never expelled it from his system.

Wakasama…⁷⁸

Your words are starting to become truth.

I cannot allow that.

Emotion was a form of weakness. Years ago, Kotarou severely immersed himself in training to get rid of it. Once his emotions died, he stopped having dreams. Now that the nightmare had returned, does it mean he was beginning to feel again?

As the Fuma Clan Head that was unacceptable. Feelings were more than a hindrance. Many a time they have forced a shinobi to relinquish what he stood for. He could not allow his own personal sentiments— as much as he wants to keep denying them, overshadow his life-sworn duty to protect his young master.

Saburo could only go to one place. The shinobi guardian had foolishly thought the youth incapable of setting one foot outside the four walls of this room. He was still weak and unrested more so after learning the tragic news. Yet the lordling’s stubbornness astounds him to no end. Didn’t the boy learn his lesson on the day he was nearly assaulted on the shores of Sagami Bay?

Was he truly that unaware of the way people react around his presence? Kotarou walks towards the futon and picks the discarded kosode with the intention of folding it neatly only to end up burying his face on the soft material, inhaling deeply the scent of unblemished youth. Barely realizing what he was doing, the shinobi fell as if in a trance reminiscing in the deep recesses of his mind how Saburo stood up to his eldest brother and spoke courageously before the generals. He could do nothing more but be proud of him. Despite the danger it presented, Kotarou was actually taken with the challenge. Protectors were spurred to fight more for their master’s safety if the latter proves their worth. Then was it not Saburo’s stubbornness that truly made him attractive?

Something fragile like glass broke within— a sudden realization hit full force like gushing ice-cold water. Kotarou lets go of the inner robe he had dressed his young lord. What on earth was he doing? Appalled by this unusual loss of self he could not stop the helplessness it caused.

What have you made me become?

Was this the reason Tono-sama could only show you his hate?

The shinobi struggled to pick the pieces of himself that lay scattered after a strong bout of— desire?

No!

Stop it!

His charge was out there in his most vulnerable, grieving. The only person who ever provided him sanctuary was now lost. Who could provide better company for the youth who walked most of his life alone and bereaved? No one else was more suited than him… It gave the protector a surge of ungodly pride.

I am the only one left to him…

He is… mine.

Kotarou was surprised that this admittance came so naturally for him. Was he no different from those men who wanted to possess Saburo? No, he was probably more… ambitious. He merely not wanted a portion… he desired the entirety.

To protect the young lord so no other could have him...

This, he would make sure of.

XxXMOBXxX

“You seem out of it.” The eldest member of the troupe, remarks as a spinning weapon swings to a stop. Musa sheathes the naginata, puts it aside, and turns to face him. “Shiba-san.”

“Were you practicing? I ask for pardon if I interrupted.” The mature-looking fire-eater said as he sat cross-legged on the corner pole of their make-shift tent.

Naoe’s brow twitched. Why was this man staying if he never wanted to intrude? He figured it was for small talk. The non-warrior class seemed to have a habit of prying on other people’s lives if theirs got too mundane. Thinking that nothing good would stem from being difficult company, Musa decides to humor him. “I don’t mind.” To get in their bad side would be troublesome.

“Jin has left, I heard. It must be hard on you that he didn’t even care to impart a farewell letter.” Shiba’s sympathetic words didn’t mesh well with his stern appearance.

Ah, so that was it. They were worried because ‘he had lost his partner.’ “He is not the kind to.” A sharp twinge of pain made him wince. His tempering with his favored weapon must have strained his wound.

“Are you alright? Ah! You’re bleeding!”

Musa held out a hand in a calming gesture. “It’s just a shallow injury, nothing to worry about.” He lied. Half a week has passed and yet it was still an obtrusive nuisance. Its slow healing was probably because he never stayed idle.

On his way to Hakone, a spy had reported Nagahide’s successful voyage at sea with their hostage. Before his arrival, he had not thought once that a gruesome carnage awaited him. With his own eyes he had discovered that the sohei army he had assigned was utterly decimated. Sange, one of his commanders had also been killed.

The Fuma were undoubtedly responsible. The one he crossed swords with on the previous night— ignited an unshakable fury in him. The shinobi’s chi was tainted with Kohryu’s breath and he reeked of too much blood enough to have bathed in it. It was as if he was deliberately marking himself of his killings. To have him brought before Naoe’s presence at that very moment was the hand of god.

Was it some cruel twist of fate?

Naoe almost hurt the one he protected on the same day. It took a delayed heartbeat for him to realize he was about to kill his Tsune! What saved him moments away from his greatest folly was ironically the man— the assassin who crushed his plans.

How a shinobi single-handedly slaughtered an eighth of his faction was brought to light when the expected force of twenty-thousand strong led by Kakizaki Kageie-Taisho reportedly failed to secure their post. It led to another complication that he had not foreseen at all.

The Hojo had taken Kakizaki Haruhie, Kakizaki Kageie-dono’s son, hostage. The Uesugi’s leverage before was swiftly evened out. Naoe didn’t even want to start wondering how the boy got there in the first place.

There was only one way.

He had to infiltrate Odawara-jo a second time.

Tsune would be the key…

The memory of the night came back to him in a flash—

No amount of denial could erase the familial likeness between the hime and his tengu. If Hana was truly the Hojo Princess then Tsune would be…

An elite shinobi would not show himself in front of his enemy unless his master was in great peril…

The Fuma only served…

Naoe’s hand shook before he clenched it into a fist.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Shiba queried again when Musa turned his back to hide a fleeting anguished expression. “I’m fine. Maybe I’ll look in town for a physician.” He replied as he raised the tent flap and stepped out.

“You won’t find one out there. Did you forget that the people have just started returning after the fire? The town is in disarray.” The troupe member called after him.

A distant, “I could at least try,” came through almost inaudibly.

(Line break)

Musa wandered aimlessly on the streets blackened by soot and ash. Apart from a few minor buildings, the canals were mostly consumed by the inferno… He was really not in the mood for deducing enemy tactics and so trudged on.

As the wind blew towards the coast he thought he heard the sound of a flute playing. He now ached to go where he listened to the sweet music before. Was his tengu by the incline overlooking the sea like when they first met?

Lightning flashed in the distant skies ever darkened by angry clouds.

It was going to rain heavily.

Perhaps to be soaked in the rain was better in his current state. For as long as he hears the illusion of the hypnotic song by the waves his mind would know peace.

As he rounded the corner, strands of raven-black hair fluttering in the wild breeze caught the corner of his eye. –Tsune!

Snow-white skin, thick dark mane gathered in a loose riband, his elegant form eclipsed by peasant clothes… it was definitely his tengu.

Naoe blindly hurried after him until his wits held him back. Follow him and then what? His thoughts drew a big blank.

Self-doubt…?

Just when did he become so faint-hearted; a weak man who questioned his every move?

By the time he looked up, Tsune had disappeared amidst a throng of passersby. Naoe considered beating himself senseless later and let a warrior’s instinct guide him. He may not have realized it before but his Tsune had a unique swirl of chi around him that outshone others.

How could he have not noticed it that night?

It must have been the poison mist— the sohei’s, no, his own doing that he couldn’t identify his tengu.

Not this time.

Now…

The invisible pull was too strong. Even if half of his senses were mangled he would still be able to find him. Naoe walked the seaside path with certainty.

XxXMOBXxX

An old quack once told him that the best medicine for a wounded heart was sake. Saburo recalled with a drunken chuckle. That happened long ago… somewhere in the disordered mesh of thoughts called memory. In his mind-addled state he couldn’t seem to comprehend that if such a thing did occur, it would be a huge leap in time. So when and where in his young life did he have such an encounter?

Perhaps that was insignificant.

His reddened eyes could only stare haplessly as the ocean waves rolled by possibly dragging his sandals* to the bottom. He had clumsily untied them moments ago.

It was said that when samurai remove their waraji*, place it neatly together, often facing north then it means taking one’s life is imminent. The footwear were left behind so the dirt underneath could not be carried on to the next life. The monks speak of respect when the departed enter the house of the divine. It was only wise to part with earthly possessions.

Proverbs and poetry… why was he letting these whimsies trouble him?

Mayhap he had nothing better to do. The broken piece Akito presented him at his bed could not even play a single note. The shinobi must have thought it was his… an innocent mistake. Yet he couldn’t fault him. He had done Saburo the favor of escaping the stifling castle and the equally rigid protector altogether.

A time to be alone; to be by himself was what he longed for.

“Won’t you be punished for this?”

“My suffering could never possibly compare to Saburo-sama. If I could help him ease his’ just a little then I’ll be more than content.”

And it was granted.

“Fool.”

“Eh?”

“You continue to let him win.” He took extra care not to let the shock show in his face as he accepted and eventually recognized the wooden flute.

The dried streaks of blood would not even come off as he dipped it below the water. Will the sea care to sing him a song now that he couldn’t?

If the nightingale doesn’t sing… kill it⁷⁹.

Ah, another random saying.

Saburo gave another empty laugh. He must be truly and deeply dead-drunk. Ujiteru-ani… wherever he is, would be seriously incensed. How could he not? The stubborn youngest sibling disobeyed every single house rule: ran away from home, went to buy some sake, emptied enough bottles to fall face-first on the street, nearly picking senseless brawls against strangers or get laid with prostitutes, and somehow ended up on the beach carrying a dagger blade and a chipped musical piece.

Foolishly waiting for you…

A fearsome rebuke…

Being angry with me is fine!

Just…

It was futile.

The dead do not return and come back to life.

Ujiteru’s spirit would just shake his head and smile sadly.

If he had one living person provoked enough into a fit of rage, that would be Kotarou. He would have little to spare the instant his devoted and iron-willed protector discovers his absence.

Lightning made the skies explode into blinding light. Roiling thunder soon followed and the rain— tears of a thousand maidens wept towards the ocean. Saburo abruptly stood as he spotted one of his sandals being swept into mid-sea. The quick movement caused him to become momentarily dizzy. Black spots danced before his eyes and he dropped the sake jar. It crashed into pieces on impact upon stone.

Chasing a dream,

A distorted childhood memory…

“I’ll swim! I’ll swim into the depths of the ocean if you don’t get those back!” The youngest child wailed.

“I want to see you try,” Sneered the eldest sibling.

And he rushed to dive into the waves—

Fingers latched itself on his wrist, tugging him back, preventing him from going further. “What do you think you’re doing? !”

Saburo turns to face one very panicked Musanaga no Unsui. He was holding the hand where a broken flute was clenched tight. Realization makes the tiger snarl, “Let me go!” He ripped himself free, body instinctively drawing in itself defensively so that the hidden tanto and the exposed instrument almost touched.

“Tsune…?” Naoe’s gaze was unwittingly seized by that beautiful hand and what it held. Tsune’s… His… The missing flute. His eyes widen.

A sharp pain stabbed his chest, the tip of the blade caught in a sound hole arrested the dagger’s rapid descent towards his heart. It saved his life…

He must flee!

In his haste, he had pushed the youth away… the flute slid from a torn sleeve and fell to the ground rolling slowly until it lied still.

The object returned to its true master and so the truth from the night of the red moon was revealed.

They were enemies!

“Tsune… is not your real name, is it?” Naoe grabbed the boy’s other hand before it could reach for the weapon he knew was concealed beneath.

Instead of the expected argument, the proud tengu smirked instead. “So what if it isn’t?”

The heavy downpour drenched them to the bone. Tsune’s raven bangs were plastered to his forehead and were long enough to get into his eyes. With fat water droplets pelting them hard, it would have been difficult even for the keen-eyed to spot the rosy tinge on porcelain-white skin that was out-of-place.

Naoe’s suspicion was confirmed when the wry smile faltered.

Tsune hiccupped.

It would be too easy. His tengu was intoxicated. No amount of fight in a warrior could make him more vulnerable in a duel especially if he were…

Untried, untempered, unable to hold his liquor in his youth…

Naoe swallowed. A shameful heat was stirring in his loins at the sight of Tsune’s defenselessness.

He tightened his grip painfully to dispel the sinful thought. You dare think of him… a possible foe in that way!

Saburo flinched when blunt nails dug into his skin. Why wasn’t he fighting seriously? Did he really want an end like this?

Was this how his father felt when he had lost his wife… their mother? Did he decisively walk towards the blade of death?

“A man can have many real names in his lifetime. Does one fake alias count at all?” Saburo said soberly. Despite his actions, his thoughts were surprisingly too clear to be clouded by alcohol. Perhaps the only thing the liquor made him forget was fear for his life.

“A name counts especially if one has to distinguish between an ally and a foe.” Naoe’s hand deftly slipped inside the ragged kosode. Rough palm made contact with fine silken skin.

“Is that how you tell an enemy from a friend? By feeling them up? Perver—” Saburo hissed when it grasped him intimately.

A splash made him look too late as his sheathed tanto sunk into the water. He had been distracted enough to be easily disarmed.

Imbecile! Saburo cursed himself.

“I don’t want you to get struck by lightning.”

"Or you don't want it to get to me first."

"Come!" Musanaga seized the youth’s arm and led him away. He was in deep turmoil but didn’t show it. His only intention was to get them out of the rain to find shelter somewhere.

Tsune, in spite of his jagged words pliantly allowed himself to be manhandled. He felt numb, world-weary…

A part of him considered ending it right there and then but this man; this man had to interfere again.

They found a small cave where the beginnings of the woods joined the sandy banks of the bay. It was a bit dark inside but it was dry. Rain water had not seeped in yet. Musa quickly looked around for dried twigs and stone so that he could build a fire. Halfway in his search he noticed that his companion had not fought his grip once. Tsune was being unusually passive, just letting himself be dragged along quietly. That was when Musa remembered to ease his hold. He drew the boy closer and peered into his eyes.

Lifeless and unseeing orbs gazed back at him. Naoe’s wintry heart melted. “What’s the matter?” He asked softly, cupping that cherished face with both of his hands. How could he think of being cruel to him?

I’m a horrible man.

The simple touch warmed Saburo. It revived him from his listlessness but at the same time it made him remember the pain. Why is it you? I don’t want your kindness! He struggled to hold back his tears. Aniue…

“I’m cold.” He whispered though it was the last thing he felt. Why won’t they just leave him alone? Here he was trading one lie after another between a man who was undoubtedly the assailant who made an attempt in his life.

“I’ll build a hearth, go make yourself comfortable until then.” Pretending to know nothing… this man. It was impossible he had not seen his face!

He should realize it was me he tried to kill! What was with this farce? They could never go back to when they were strangers, deceivers, ignorant of each other’s identities.

He had no weapon left, no way he could escape unscathed… should Musanaga decide to kill him there was no stopping him.

Take it!

“Keep me warm.” Saburo grabbed the wet sleeve against the other’s chest.

Take my life!

Musa grunted in pain, grabbing the hand that clawed at his wound. “Tsune—!”

I don’t care anymore.

Saburo felt something warm and wet stain his fingers. He won’t let go. Musanaga had to break his wrist first. “Saburo, Hojo Saburo stabbed you here that night. How do you think that I know?”

His tengu… A HOJO? !

The Fuma only served… their Hojo Masters.

Blunt nails were digging deeper and Naoe had no choice but to forcefully shove him away. The boy made a sound of pain when he stumbled.

The flute came tumbling out as his back hit a thick slab of rock. He almost lost consciousness but he refused to succumb to it. It was not over yet. “My cousin, Hojo Hanaiin… was abducted on the very same night. You have something to do with that, haven’t you?”

The fake unsui reached for the wooden piece, securing it within the folds of his wet robes. Then only casting one unreadable glance at his captive turned his back to make a fire.

Naoe stirred the embers, discreetly pouring fine powder over the flames until a soothing scent spread within the cave. He was aware that Saburo was watching him when he started taking off his sodden clothes.

The youth’s eyes widened not only because of the larger man’s increasing nudity but also due to the bloodied gauze wrapped around a broad torso.

Naoe tended to his injury first. He unwrapped the bandage and fished a small vial of clear salve somewhere in his hakama. He applied the substance and sighed when the smarting abated. His tengu was a tiger when provoked… he pondered with amusement.

As the calmative incense helped sort his thoughts he was slowly convinced that the revelation didn’t diminish what he felt for the youth one bit. Was this what Nagahide was afraid of?

‘Do not forget, you are Uesugi!’ was what he conveyed with a glance when they separated.

I haven’t forgotten who I am, Nagahide. A sliding noise was heard as a blade gleamed naked in the firelight. With his katana drawn, Naoe approached the boy whose shuffling belied the fear in his defiant gaze.

This was it…

Saburo stared at the weapon before his face.

Naoe raised the blade—

He was going to die.

In a vertical slash a thin riband snapped.

Saburo felt his damp hair cascade down his shoulders. What is he—? At that moment, the man’s intentions became vague.

Just kill me damn it! He glared at him. “Don’t you play with me.”

“I’m not.” Naoe responded and dipped the blade just below the boy’s chin. The katana made a slow path down Saburo’s front. If he moved just a little the weapon would surely cut him. It stopped at one of the binds tying his hakama in place. Then in a blink, a portion of metal eased through and snapped one and then two cord clothes in half.

Saburo’s lower garment slipped below his legs before he realized what had happened. “You—!” He gasped in indignation.

“You’ll catch a cold in those clothes.” Naoe said nonchalantly.

“You ruined them! Even if they were dry it would be useless to put them on!” The lordling raged, pissed enough to resort to his fists. He let one punch fly. It got Naoe on the jaw.

The veteran fighter could have evaded it easily but he just wanted more excuses to keep tearing the boy’s clothes until only his loin cloth was spared.

As the youth’s skin and flesh were bared before him, the desire Naoe grappled to suppress, burned fiercely and rose to the surface. Saburo was out of breath, having fought and struggled when he was being stripped in earnest. Does his assailant wanted to make him as powerless as he dared?

Barefoot.

Naoe had no sandals to unclasp. Finding him back on those dangerous shores, having drunk a cup too many of sake, about to race against the waves, and the unstable frame of mind… as a warrior himself, the swordsman was able to piece together what his tengu was meaning to do.

“Fool!” Naoe slapped him across the face. He thrust his katana behind them and pulled the youth into his arms.

When their naked bodies touched, heat was shared as well. “Death would be the last thing you’ll get from me.” Naoe hissed angrily.

It broke the last wall that he had constructed to isolate himself from his grief. Saburo gasped one breath and another when tears suddenly flooded out of his eyes. He could no longer hold back… he started sobbing loudly.

Naoe just held him, ran a soothing hand on his hair, until Saburo could cry no more. As the youth quietly leaned on him, he spoke at last. “I didn’t mean to hurt you that night. I failed to recognize you. Please forgive me.”

“You’re saying that despite knowing who I am?” Saburo searched the depths of the man’s eyes. He only found sincerity and… an emotion he couldn’t quite understand.

“Yes.” Naoe answered and carried him close to the hearth. “You are an enemy of the Uesugi.” He whispered these words on the soft skin below the youth’s ear.

UESUGI—? !

He is one of them?

"But I am merely a man right now."

Saburo was lying on robes half-dried by the fire and a man’s body… his supposed enemy was on top of him. Instead of feeling threatened, something in the air… a scent relaxed his nerves. He was languid, comfortable enough to doze. “You were thinking of killing yourself.” Naoe methodically undid the bandage covering his neck. He placed a gentle kiss on the healing wound. Whoever marked him first, Naoe was determined to replace it with his own. “If you are that desperate, I could think of other ways to make you feel like you’re dying.”

It was spoken so lewdly… Saburo felt his face heating up and it wasn’t because of the sake.

Naoe licked the spot he had kissed making the boy shiver. Large, rough hands brushed his sides, caressing his flat taut abdomen, and massaged his hips. Open-mouthed and aggressive, the man hungrily nipped and molested his neck. The renewed tissue from the old gash made it especially sensitive.

Saburo moaned. The helpless sound triggered something protective and bestial on Naoe. He growled, bit down deeply but carefully while his untamed hand clutched and stroked the hardening thing clothed between the youth’s legs. “Hngh…”

Naoe wanted to hear it again and again. He nipped a delicate shoulder while his hand reached inside the linen barrier. Grasping the boy’s straining flesh he continued to excite it. “Mmhh—!” Saburo’s hips quaked. A lascivious hand groped silkily, it continued making him weep. –It’s too much! His eyes squeezed shut… a knot below his gut was wound painfully tight.

Before it could crest towards the inevitable, the man mercifully slowed his vigorous strokes just to keep him starving in need. I’ll make you yearn for it.

Taking advantage of the youth’s writhing form, he undressed Saburo completely.

The youth lied panting and vulnerably open to receive his intense love. Naoe decided to give more attention on his upper body. He tentatively ran his tongue on one nipple before devouring it hard. Saburo squirmed and groaned. Finely boned fingers flew into fistfuls of thick hair, perspiring brow furrowed, flushed face turned to the side, gritted teeth unable to stop another moan… Saburo drowned.

Overwhelming sensations made his belly quiver more wantonly. Heat… a violent heat was consuming his insides.

Naoe exquisitely nursed it and without much of a pause moved to ravage the other one. The raw peak throbbed and tingled. It wasn’t given reprieve. Mischievous fingers pinched and pulled while its twin suffered the same torture within a hot mouth. “Oh…!”

The man’s touch was far too skilled that it threatened insanity. He only learned about the intimate act from tales but was utterly ill-prepared for the experience…Wait— should he really be feeling this way? Somewhere within the pleasant fog clouding rationality was an undisturbed seat of judgment.

His body was being conquered… he was giving something away of himself that wouldn’t be the same again after. To offer it to a man who was an enemy of his clan…!

A man whose true name he didn’t even know!

“Am I hurting you?” Soft pliant limbs had gone rigid and it was far from arousal. Naoe was swift to recognize fear from his young companion. Although the sacred essence should have eased the youth’s nerves to a certain extent, his headstrong tengu was a great exception.

Saburo fought him off in each turn. It irritated and awed him at the same time.

“Kill me. Don’t… manipulate me.” He whispered harshly.

“Dear lad, if there is one being a complete fool between the two of us… it is I. If killing you had been my intention, I would have done so from the start.” Naoe answered solemnly, planting his lips on a smooth palm.

“A fool whose real name I don’t even…”

“You said a man can have many real names in a lifetime.” Naoe knew he was going against every principle that had been driven to him since childhood when he answered, “Nobutsuna. Naoe Nobutsuna.”

A… NAOE!

“Nobutsuna, what do you want from me?” Saburo affixed him with a look that could shatter mountains. Vulnerable, molten amber was gazing at his soul.

The youth appeared fragile enough to be destroyed by his next words.

“Your life is certainly not what I wish to take.”

“Then what…?”

“This body of mine wanted to give you comfort. If there is one thing I see in you it is the shadow of grief. I want to fill the hole that is eating you inside.” Parting with these careful words, Naoe enveloped him in tender warmth.

You sound like a lovesick woman.

How can a powerful man… and a probable enemy lower himself for the sake of a wayward boy? It doesn’t matter if he was in anguish. It shouldn’t be Nobutsuna’s concern. To look after his well-being was the duty of his protector.

So why? Why does he feel safe within these arms? “Are you going to keep holding me or comfort me like you said?” Saburo was still very aware of the straining, throbbing thing that ached between his legs.

“Really now?” Naoe’s voice rumbled low into a dangerous purr. “If you let me, I won’t be able to stop myself.” The dark promise reignited a spark of dread in Saburo but the strong need that the man cultivated in him called out more strongly. His drinking had lowered his inhibitions significantly; the pleasant scent wafting in the air eroded his defenses.

He was unusually bold. “Prove to me of the things you wish to do to me.”

A peasant… a low-born child could never speak such a command. A person who could bring the strongest man down to his knees…

“You won’t regret it.”

Hot moist breath hovering on the source of his agony dared to undo him. Naoe had sunk so low that he was nestled on the weakest spot of the youth.

When the man took it in his mouth Saburo thought he would seriously die. His hands scrambled to stifle his screams.

Naoe would have none of it. He tongued the slit expertly, swallowed the length deeply, relishing Saburo’s loud agonized moans. Didn’t I tell you that I’ll make you feel like dying?

The lithe euphorically tortured body arched. Saburo grabbed and twisted the robes beneath and prayed to every god he knew in existence. He felt his lower half wrung in numerous places. He was in the highest cusp of inexplicable torment… his flesh was craving for something just beyond reach. Never-ending stabs of pleasure assaulted him but it was just not enough!

He wanted more!

He needed more…

–Please…!

No! He would not beg! “Na… Ahh…” Tears that had nothing to do with grief spilled. Saburo looked down at the handsome man, the half-lidded gaze, the ravenous mouth that determinedly engulfed him and died again and again.

Convulsions wracked him, the world spun; hushed groans turning into whimpers and then escalating into harsh cries filled the cave.

Naoe savored every virgin drop and softly exhaled against a creamy inner thigh. He could not lie to himself. He wished for more. His current contentment was rapidly eroding away like sand grains battered by the deluge.

Mad desires were gradually taking over reason.

“I want you, Saburo.” He breathed these words on sweat-drenched skin. When he only received silence, he drew back to behold the unguarded sleeping face of the youth.

His tengu was exhausted but not a line or crease of suffering marred his seemingly serene expression.

Would he dare disturb the ethereal slumber?

He couldn’t do it after all… Naoe was enthralled. Just by watching over him sleep brought a quiet happiness. There was tightness in his chest… an ache that he couldn’t name.

An emotion bestowed upon another freely without expecting anything in return… Pain, a soul-wrenching pain… did he take Saburo’s suffering as his own? A smile unexpectedly bloomed on his lips. If so, it lessened the guilt for what he was about to do soon.

To where does a man belong?

To his country?

To his family?

To his duty?

To himself?

At this point, Naoe found himself unable to give these questions a definite answer. You have taken my heart… could it be that you have also stolen my soul?

Saburo had started to shiver from the early night wind. Naoe lent the trembling form his body heat by embracing him. Only when they were brought so close to one another, hearts beating as one did the man’s doubts and uncertainties dissolve into nothingness.

I love you, was left unsaid when Naoe finally allowed sleep to claim him as well.

~TBC

78 – Young Master

79 – Figuratively said, one of the three unifiers of Japan, Oda Nobunaga used this method to conquer the country.

Post A/N: Someone’s obviously coming to get in the way. Another WolfXTigerXGiant chapter is coming soon. Stay tuned.
- 19
- 20
- 21
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

400 Years Apart