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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.

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Chapter 23:

ULTIMARINA, Pearl in the Deep: Part 1

A/N: Loved by her beloved, loved by all men, she weighed herself down the sea; never to return to the land of the rising sun.

Warning: Lime alert.

He receives the summons at the most unexpected hour. Grudgingly, he puts down the sake cup halfway to his lips and stands up, dismissing one of Tono-sama’s troublesome couriers.

It was too soon to be seeking comfort; the public mourning has not even begun.

As he hears the sliding doors to his rooms close, he steps out of his drab kosode and is forced to wear something much more presentable not to please but because of duty to one’s lord. He grimaced, that sounds like what a woman of the household would do, which he was anything but.

Treading lightly on that direction and avoiding the easier pathways didn’t keep him safe from a pair of elder kokujin that stared just a bit too long and a servant who bowed and blushed at his uncharacteristic overly dressed appearance.

The samurai that usually guard the outermost chambers were disquietingly absent. It gives him pause as to what sort of game he was playing this time.

“Tono-sama, I have arrived.” He announced softly though he knew, the man and his protector were aware of his presence even before he set foot to this very place.

He crosses the threshold and stops at the final door leading to the palace’s innermost chambers. Even his father, chief of the Go-Hojoshi vassals had never been admitted inside the Sagami no Kami’s sleeping quarters. As far as he knows, there were only three people allowed and two of them were proclaimed dead. The last one, the shadow, should he wait for him to show up and grant him entrance?

Deafened by the silence after his loss, he starts pacing about within the spacious antechamber. The clan lord’s palace that could house more than a hundred men was neat and elegantly simple. Though the interior wasn’t lavishly decorated, the partitions and flooring were made of the sturdiest wood and finest paper. There were also… his heart almost thudded to a stop— delicate pieces of porcelain, clay figurines, and smooth stone carvings of deities… only Ujiteru would meticulously care to collect.

He could never imagine Tono-sama having the slightest interest for such things. They weren’t assembled in an aesthetically precise manner the last time he was here, offering to follow his lord and commander into the afterlife. Could they be his way of grieving?

Several of the deities were unfamiliar to him. Some were probably native only to the lands they were carved on.

As he bent to trace the elaborate designs of a porcelain vase, a particular statuette caught his eye. A female kami sitting on the lotus position cradling a biwa⁸⁶ on her hands wouldn’t have frozen his blood cold. Instead it was the fusion of the mortal and the divine attributes that made him have second thoughts if the image he was seeing was actually that of their patron goddess.

The conservative posture and adornments were definitely Ichikishima-hime-no-mikoto⁸⁷ but kami were never visualized by the common folk having slender almost earth-deprived bodies. To depict or even portray them even for the arts in such a way would anger the religiously devout. Kami were often venerated giants if not having firm and robust bodies. Yet this one was just… it had delicate features and a serene expression that was a cross between ethereally sublime and human vulnerability.

It was eerily familiar somehow… where had he seen such encompassing beauty?

“Matsuda-dono,” A soft quiet voice snapped him from his musings.

Matsuda Hideharu looked down on the face of Tono-sama’s shadow.

Fuma Akito was humbly down one knee and with head bowed low he continued, “Tono-sama is now ready to receive your presence.”

Was he telling him to just invite himself to the master’s chambers? He still finds it unreal to be granted such an honor but at the same time a little intimidated. Why would it be him among all those loyal vassals? If Matsuda Norihide finds out that his son got admitted within the very sanctuary that he himself was forgone the invitation, wouldn’t the chief vassal be insulted?

Of course Hideharu and Tono-sama had met several times in private out of…

His thread of thought broke.

But it was never in this place. One does wonder all the time what goes inside Tono-sama’s head.

Remembering he had made the man aware of his visit, it would be rather pointless to dally.

With a sure step, he crossed the barriers that separated danger and safety.

…

Tono-sama sat by the open window, his waist-length hair was down, and he wore nothing but a plain kimono as he silently gazed at the moon.

Seeing him dressed for bed with the late night gleam of the moonlight caught sideways on the silk of his robes made Hideharu hesitate.

It seems he came overdressed after all.

“I suppose you are wondering why I called for you.” Ujimasa said not even sparing him a glance.

If they weren’t in the safety of the four corners of this room, Hideharu would have answered differently. His answer would be what his esteemed father and what the society expects of his stature. But he would be fooling himself if he would pretend to be the dutiful vassal.

“I do wonder why I am summoned here in your most-guarded chambers when others of high import are denied it.” Tono-sama chuckled at his response.

Hideharu would never have imagined their lord the capacity of laughter so soon after Ujiteru’s death. He stifled his surprise with a crease of a brow.

“Haru, how do you find the arrangement outside? Is it to your liking?” Addressing him by that name… informal and almost affectionate made his skin crawl.

It was times like these that he was being so close to his sensibilities that Hojo Ujimasa was about to succumb to utmost cruelty.

“Tono-sama,” Hideharu began quietly, “It is late. You need your rest. Is there anything you wish of me before you retire?”

Ujimasa then slowly turns to face him. “As a war commander, you are very commendable for having single-handedly held the Takeda at bay in the absence of my brother."

If military affairs were the reason for the summons then that could be put off for tomorrow, could it not? But the too intent gaze he was receiving said otherwise. There was a certain urgency there like he was an important piece in one of Tono-sama’s shogi boards about to serve its true purpose.

“As much as I want to receive the honors, it wasn’t all our might that drove the enemy away.” Hideharu parried deftly.

“Humility and strength of a dignified commander... Ujiteru has chosen well. Perhaps he thought along the lines of: keeping you bound in a contract would dim the shine.” Merciless and precise, where was the surprise here? A slight stiffening of shoulders was the only give away that it affected him.

It still hurt... whenever that subject matter was brought up.

This man knew where to strike the slightest chink in the armor. “If it is as you say,” Hideharu took a steady breath, eyes glittering liquid with steely determination fired up by neither hurt nor anger ... “Then Ujiteru-san should take your full praise.”

“My brother, if you really knew him well enough was capable of neglecting himself and his value for the better welfare of the one he deems greater. He is noble that way... perhaps too much. I reckon part of that is the reason for his demise.” Ujimasa-kou turned back to the window, attention held once again by the moon’s silent rays. “Do you want to know how he was... spirited away by the Takeda?”

He didn’t want to be baited but the Sagami no Kami sure knew his way around every subject of his domain.

“Without telling you anything, I think he is being kept there somewhere.”

Matsuda Hideharu’s heart stopped at this mere speculation. He dare not lift his gaze or breathe a sigh of relief. But his willful mouth was open, string of words flying out beyond his control. “Ujimasa-sama, I don’t— You can’t say... Ujiteru-sama is—” His head was shaking from side to side.

“You see the whole picture? Each and everyone has their trump. Do you know what this means?” The Clan Lord of the Hojo was disturbingly calm in such twist of events.

What does this have to do with me? With you? Here in your company?

“ I don’t.” The composed, quietly confident commander was admittedly shaken and this didn’t even lower Ujimasa’s opinion of him. It pleased him that an independent-minded subordinate could still be subdued.

“Saburo, undoubtedly shall have to take Ujiteru’s place. This would draw enemy attention. It would force the Takeda and the Uesugi to show what is under their sleeves. They will try to get into my otouto’s young and inexperienced temperament. Their underestimation of Saburo will work well in our favor. But it would not be wise to overestimate my quite impulsively stubborn sibling.

Yes, that’s where you come in. Saburo needs a mentor, someone to guide him and help mold him into a brilliant and fierce war commander.” Despite his callous demeanor, he understood yet again how and why so many of the Go-Hojoshi retainers had unwavering respect, loyalty, and concern for this man.

Another honor bestowed upon him in addition to the previous piece of information would however never be given away without a price. Matsuda Hideharu still understood Tono-sama enough not to be lulled by illusions of gallantry. Hojo Ujimasa believes in the concept of mutual exchange. And it would not be his way of things if he started handing the rewards before the required deeds were even accomplished.

The second son of the chief vassal then bowed before the lord of the realm. “I accept, Tono-sama. What shall you need more of me in this regard?” How could he refuse when Ujiteru himself had personally instructed him the care of young Saburo before he had gone to battle?

Ujimasa smiled. It was truly gratifying to have a contract and a vassal who knew him so well. “It is indeed late in the night. But an incident had the audacity to present itself to my knowledge just now.” Slight irritation now washed over Tono-sama’s features. He gestured for Hideharu to rise and to look behind them.

Even in the pale light of the lantern, a pair of shadows was visible on the other side of the room.

XxXMOBXxX

The touch of the cool water upon his brow coaxes him into wakefulness. His sluggish mind however made him believe that he was probably in his bed having another fever and being tenderly cared for by either Sayori-san or Yuri-san.

But when familiar calloused fingertips were rubbing against the sensitive spot of his old wound he snapped back to reality. Kotarou was hovering above him, washcloth in hand, face devoid of any emotion he displayed in the cave.

Saburo was being bathed in a wooden tub half-filled with warm water. His dutiful protector retracted his hand from the exposed skin of his throat. The shinobi assumed distance at his awareness, staring down at him with an unreadable gaze as his young master was forced to relive the events of their last encounter.

Kotarou finding him flesh against flesh with another man, at the highest cusp of the act... there was no possible excuse he could offer to protect himself, to deny what he had done...

Stark and obvious betrayal sharpening those bland features into dangerous edges, awakening something that restlessly slumbered deeply within the shadow’s frayed psyche. A treachery committed against the one chosen for him in the sacred bond between men... could never easily be forgiven.

The rules of the contract state that both bonded individuals are never to seek intimacy from another with the exception of either wife. The fact that Saburo, the younger one had not only sought intimacy but taken another man inside his body was very liable for severe castigation. It didn’t take long for him to understand what his protector was doing. “It must be hard on you to be doing this. Allow me to attend to myself so you can spare yourself from handling my filth.”

Kotarou remained silent for a while before suddenly leaning down, hands gripping the opposite sides of the tub, caging him, preventing his escape. “If there is anyone who should be touching you right now, Wakasama, it should be me.”

Saburo’s skin prickled, his body going rigid from the threatening aura enveloping him as these low words were whispered on his ear, “I will cleanse you, purge your body of all its impurities, including the wretched essence between your legs.”

The youth’s eyes widened, heartbeat quickening, face paling at the dark promise within the black abyssmal pools. He instinctively tries to draw his legs close as if to hide from that penetrating stare... only to find that he was unable to do so.

Saburo realized to his horror that he could not move his limbs. Even the smallest muscle from his waist down to the tips of his toes refused to budge at his command. His legs were nothing but lifeless, limp extensions of his body. He mustered his fiercest glare and turned to Kotarou. “You. Would. Not. Dare.”

The lordling exploded, “What have you done to me!”

As if to placate or provoke the lordling’s rage, a long-fingered hand lands atop a slender thigh. Every fiber of sensation focused on that hand and Saburo lifts his face, expression a mix of fear and anger as shown that despite his lower paralysis he was very capable of feeling whatever was done to him.

The hand crept and disappeared at the side nearly grasping his full rump but not quite. “Worry not. I do not wish to commit acts of intimacy while you are helpless like this. I will have to confer with Tono-sama about the complications of our contract.”

Kotarou might have just plunged a blade through his heart. The least person he would want to face would be his aniue... their daimyo.

As his protector resumed washing his sore and grimy body, Saburo averted his face, too conflicted with emotion to look at him. “Our contract... was just a farce. We were merely drafted together to suit aniue’s plans for me.”

The shinobi dropped the washcloth. His hands that only wanted to convey all his suffering became soft, caressing the sides of his most precious one’s face. It was too easy to hurt and punish especially since he was the wronged one. But being a master of his art gave him exceptional control of himself. Despite the swirling emotions, almost overwhelming in their intensity, Kotarou finds that he could get a better grip on irrational urges. “Then what you said at the cave... was it merely a lie?”

“Irony is it? You are a man of irony. To think that the man to cure the weakness on my legs the other day is now the one responsible for my ails.” Saburo still refused to meet his gaze, let alone answer him properly.

“Wakasama, I am what you made me to be.” Kotarou was unexpectedly too close. He mouthes these words against a damp shoulder. His hands travel down the expanse of a lean torso, feeling the fluttering of a rapidly beating heart. He burrows his face at the curve of Saburo’s neck, lips touching the skin here and there while the youth trembles in his arms.

“Stop— you said you wouldn’t...” A soft moan escapes the youth. He bites his lip to keep the rest in.

He was...

Kotarou was suckling the tender bud of his breast. The lips move skillfully, the tongue cajoles, and the teeth press on just the right places sending jolts of unwanted pleasure to every nerve of his body. And when Saburo thought he couldn’t take anymore, his protector relents.

The youth pants. “Damn... you...”

“If my young master lies then shouldn’t I be entitled to it as well? I only follow through your example.” The shinobi acts like nothing happened and returns to his task.

“Since when have you learned to twist my words to your advantage? How dare you defy me like this!” The lordling’s features were flushed but it wasn’t just because of his ire. Saburo still had trouble taking even breaths.

“If my wishes could be held above yours, I’d choose to cleanse you with other things than my hands. But I am your protector, I put your well-being first.” Kotarou behaves methodically as he finished washing his young master save one delicate part.

“Lies.” Saburo growls. He adamantly tries to put up a brave front though he only wanted to back away as Kotarou approaches to lift him from the tub.

He struggles weakly, legs dangling uselessly when he was placed on dry splayed linen. He could only support himself up using his arms to avoid sliding down the floor.

Kotarou disappears for a while but immediately comes back with a bucket of warm water and another washcloth.

The youth attempts to run away, to bring his body towards the other side but the shinobi doesn’t let him. Kotarou grabs hold of one ankle and shamlessly spreads those legs apart. “No!” yells a panicked Saburo.

“Do you value that man so much that you would go so far as to prevent me from erasing his traces on you?” For a brief instant he was seized of an unnamed emotion so powerful that he nearly reverted to the man who assaulted the one whom he was supposed to protect.

The lordling utters a pained gasp and shouts, “Don’t touch me! I’ll do it myself! Don’t you...” hurt me. Pride closes his throat, conveying unintended desperation to his voice.

Kotarou would have none of it. It was past his tolerance to allow that man’s essence to remain tainting his young master. But he also desires to prove differently and therefore regains his senses. So carefully and gently he wipes the blood and seed from those weak thighs all the while whispering, “I’ll not forgive you but I would not hurt you. I’ll not hurt you.”

Saburo hisses and curses. He was sore down there but he was also sensitive. He would be damned if he would show how much Kotarou’s touch was affecting him. Unfortunately his body was just as capable on its own into betraying him. And as if he could take further humiliation he grows hard, flesh straining into arousal...

“Wakasama,”

“Silence!” His yell of indignation becomes a rough groan as his protector boldly grasps him, taking his throbbing flesh in a firm hand. Kotarou tentatively strokes, “Hnn—!” He salivates, swallows, and breathes through gritted teeth to endure it. “I... I lied... once... and you did... too... now keep... your vow.”

The power of those words... his young master retains a piece of that inner strength despite being in this state.

It endears the protector, it defeats him completely. Kotarou releases him and the unnatural bind keeping Saburo was broken. “Yes, young master.” You still have complete control over me.

Saburo feels a prick of a needle before his toes twitch back to life.

He stands, approaches his protector and lifts his hand.

He was about to strike him.

But his hand clenches into a fist. Grimacing, he allows it to limply fall to his side. Schooling his expression Saburo speaks, “You’ll not hurt me but you’ll leave our fate to my brother? It becomes no different, Kotarou.”

“It is as you said, Wakasama.” The shinobi agrees.

All of you... are the same. Saburo gathers the last scraps of courage left in him and resolutely decides to meet his eldest brother.

“Kotarou, what have you done to him? To that man, Musanaga no Unsui?”

“He is alive, Wakasama.”

“How alive?”

“If I may be allowed the insolence to honesty, Wakasama, he should be the least of your worries right now.”

Saburo slowly turns and pins his shadow with those familiar eyes of the sharpest blade. The tiger’s compelling gaze that could force any creature into submission... “Are you saying that I should worry more about myself?”

Kotarou had no answer to that and therefore keeps his silence.

~TBC

86 – A Japanese lute.

87 – The Japanese formal adaptation of Benzaiten’s name.

Post A/N: I apologize for the spelling/grammatical errors. My notebook crashed (is still being fixed; ugh, technology these days...) and is in no shape to proof-read for me. This is the second time Ujimasa, Saburo, and Kotarou would all be in the same room with the inclusion of one Matsuda Hideharu. What would really be his role there, one wonders? Comments and reviews, are welcome!
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400 Years Apart