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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.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
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Chapter 25:

ULTIMARINA, Pearl in the Deep: Part 3

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.

The long hallway, which was illuminated by rather crude torches was a deep contrast to his scorching temper. And yet the bottom of the castle keep was meant to be that way. To have the dungeons brightly lighted would be inviting prisoners to seek and see their way out.

Light but haughty footsteps accompanied by soundless and unnatural ones were making their way towards one of the holding chambers.

A pair of bushi in the special corps stands guard behind every door containing a prisoner. Slabs of carved stone and not paper screens are physically moved by them. They are said to be warriors not only skilled with a spear and a sword but were exceptionally strong as well.

"Tono-sama," They bowed respectfully and with a gesture of approval, they opened the heavy doors.

Hojo Ujimasa barely spared them and the shabbiness of his surroundings a glance, his focus was immediately stolen by the bare-skinned man chained to the wall.

A single torch burns at the far side creating only meager brightness to reveal the man's half-bruised face.

The Sagami no Kami realizes more to his annoyance that the beatings the man received have not broken him one bit; in fact it barely scratched his armor. The prisoner meets his cold gaze unwaveringly with a hint of smugness glinting in a not so swollen eye. And yet Ujimasa-kou didn't let the arrogance get to him too much. He has dealt with impudent miscreants most of the time in this dungeon. If a show of physical force and inhuman brutality had not been effective then there were other ways to torture a hardened man. He had had a lot of practice in the past.

It had been quite for sometime now but he noticed that the man's attention had quickly shifted to the shadow he had brought along. "You know this man, Kotarou?"

The shinobi scarcely responds, "He is no man but a beast that defiled the young master."

Though Kotarou's face remains blank, Ujimasa could feel a more than subtle change in the stale atmosphere. Something was lurking behind the shadow's eyes. It was darker than hatred and colder than contempt. He gives off an aura probably worse than a glacial void eager to devour its rival to nonexistence.

"Truly?" This single word was hissed with incompatible scorn and amusement.

Two alpha beasts: one silent and deadly, the other mighty and proud fighting over the favor of one unassailable godling. It was as intriguing as it was infuriating.

Ujimasa steps forward to inspect the man like an insect trapped on a spider's web. "The devout yamabushi* always preach that men who touch and defile something so pure and loved by the gods will suffer divine retribution in the end. Have you not known this despite being an unsui, Musanaga?" The mocking quality of his religious rant quickly produces a desired reaction.

*Mountain monks

"I did not violate him! I'd rather die than do that to him!"

"Even if you say, he willingly allowed you to have him..." Ujimasa presents an upturned palm to Kotarou who wordlessly hands him the very same wakizashi that cut a slanted gash on his face.

The dried wound was still red and smarts like a hornet's sting but it could otherwise survive without the gauze. The fresh mark on his cheek was probably the reason why the prisoner watched him more.

"That child has not come of age—"

Musanaga gave a soft grunt when a deep slice of pain was delivered to his left hip. The smarting of the wound, which was visually shallow in comparison was unbelievably intense. The prisoner grits his teeth as a strong hand soon grabbed his neck. Fingers turn into claws; clenching and tightening as they sought to crush his windpipe.

"You have sullied his innocence." Rage begins to simmer out of Ujimasa's eyes. 'Mine, alone...'

"I..." Being tortured day in and day out has weakened his resilience. The cords around his throat were fettered knots and was at the risk of completely tearing apart. Who could this man be to bear such hate for his actions? Naoe struggled against the ruthless hand strangling the life out of him but he could not utter the words that could deny such accusations or save him from imminent death.

Guilty...

'Have I really touched him against his will?'

'Perhaps I am such a wretched man...'

'Saburo,'

The prisoner closes his eyes, ceasing to fight.

Surprisingly the punishing force equally relents.

"Tono-sama," Kotarou unthinkingly calls.

The Sagami no Kami turns to face another anguished man. Ujimasa's brow raised and then it dawned on him... his words had similar effect on the shadow. "Speak,"

'We both have defiled...' "Please grant me the honor to end his life." Lightning crackled in the air— Ujimasa immediately stiffens. His fury threatened to redirect its course.

"As per our contract, the right is mine. To preserve his virtue and vanquish a rival who dares get in the way." This was not the same man, the same cold assassin who dutifully, merely watched over Saburo as a protector bound by responsibilities. Kotarou had become a much different man.

The emotions clearly written on that once passive face dampens the master's anger. "Very well. I shall release him."

Both Naoe and Kotarou could not hide befuddlement.

But when Naoe's eyes did widen, they were no longer out of surprise. It was one borne out of the most excruciating pain. At his side was the wakizashi blade deeply embedded.

The prisoner lost consciousness before the command, "Unchain him," was issued.

Kotarou stares balefully at the crumpled form of his rival. He pulls the injurious object free causing more blood to spill messily on the ground. 'I do not strike a fallen warrior but when you are able to stand, I shall spare your life no more.'

"Kotarou, do you dare dally on my presence?"

"No, Tono-sama."

A pair of footsteps and the noise of something being dragged along dark corridors were heard for sometime.

XxXMOBXxX

A white cocoon of blankets refused to budge from where it remained huddled at the center of the room. It refused to acknowledge the open window or the midday sun that had risen high in the sky. It refused the throng of people mostly servants who came in and out of the room each taking their turn to try, and coax, plead and offer it with anything: nourishment, a bath, a change of clothes, or a set of activities.

The day of Ujiteru-ani's public mourning had idly passed him by. At the ceremony, he was the only family member whose presence was greatly missed. And it was not because of a malady or sickness festering in his body but an exhaustion and telltale pain that had nothing to do with mundane tasks.

Even now his cheeks glow with embarrassment as he recalled that he could not even manage to sit up waking on the first day after he consummated the bond with—

"Wakasama,"

Saburo stiffens, eyes scrunching shut to hide away from the sight or even block out the sound of that mere voice...

This man was the last person he wanted to be alone with right now.

The youth feigns sleep and tries his best not to move a slight so as to preserve the cocoon he currently burrowed himself into.

"Wakasama," A slight gesture of clearing one's throat preceded the second beseeching call. Kotarou was sounding a little... nervous?

"Wakasama, are you... hurt in any way? Please... answer me honestly so that I could care for you in the best method I can." If Saburo was embarrassed before, hearing this awkward statement from Kotarou had his ears practically burning in shame.

Care?

Did he hear that right?

"Let me care for you."

"You only need to rest,"

It triggered the memory on that night where those words were spoken very differently, were whispered very...

Softly?

Enticingly?

Lewdly...

Urgh! "I'm not talking to you," came the huffed, irritated reply.

The protector committed the foolish mistake of pressing matters further, "But Wakasama, if you are still sore..."

"Silence! Leave at once!" He bellows angrily. Having no choice but to obey, the Fuma Clan Head bows and dejectedly departs.

Hmph. Just what did those two expect after letting them have their way with him? Did they assume he would always be good as new after what they put him through? They were exactly not on the fair-sized either... being well-endowed— a new shade of scarlet shamefully stirs heat on his face. What in the name of gods was he having a mental monologue about!?

And then it hits him...

Nobutsuna.

Naoe.

He had allowed the chance to slip oh so conveniently off his hands. Just when Kotarou was most submissive, subdued by the righteous guilt he calls honor... he had failed to shake facts about "Musanaga no Unsui" from his protector. Saburo would be damned if he even thinks of calling Kotarou back to him.

Let him wallow in his self-punishment some more. That would make things even between them. The youth would be ready to face the man with pride.

But Kotarou promised Musanaga was alive. The only problem was how, indeed? Seeing the mental image of his eldest brother brought a chill to his bones.

Ujimasa-kou would not spare him.

He spared no one...

...

A modest slide of the shoji and unfamiliar footsteps approach. Listening to the light footfalls it was mostly another servant but who?

"Um..." Came the soft timid voice. A pair of solid knees nudged at Saburo's side before arms reached out to brusquely unroll him from his sanctuary of bed linens.

The sound of indignation (and pain) barely made it out of his lips before he slammed against another's ribcage.

"Sorry!" Said the rude lap that currently accommodated his recovering rump. A... boy probably his age albeit larger in frame was apologizing profusely while holding his shoulders supportively. "I... I was ordered to wake you up, my lord."

Despite the nervous tone and the other's rugged appearance: the plain clothes, the clumsy and unsure demeanor, and the face of a gentle brute, this outsider dares to cast him out of his moping and was unconcerned if he managed to cross the dividing line between master and servant.

Saburo opens his mouth to let out a string of curses and protests of outrage only to notice the boy gawking on a particular spot on his neck and flushing because of it. He settles for a hard shove a backward shuffling of steps, and wrapping the neckline of his robes tighter around himself.

Damn that Kotarou (or was it Naoe?) for leaving enough bruises on his body when he (they?) was (were?) at it, making him act like a shamed pathetic wit of a maiden before a nameless servant no less! He could feel himself simmer with infuriation and heat up with more discomfiture.

"I apologize, my lord I... really don't know my strength sometimes,"

"Who are you? You don't bow when you ask for an apology and you stare directly while you speak, which is impolite. I don't recall a servant under my brother's house to have such indecorous manners." The lordling's choice words reflects a glint of panic on the boy's eyes.

He looks down, a dark veil almost falling over his face but in the next instant was dispelled with a courteous bow and a smile. "I am called, Haruhie, my lord. I was appointed as your page effective today."

A page? The need for one doesn't sink into his mind. Saburo forgets to be overly self-conscious and stops to study the situation or the person rather at hand. "Who appointed you?" He asks suspiciously.

"I was appointed by Ujimasa-kou." Haruhie answers almost defensively but his expression had been schooled enough not to give away anything else.

The lordling sighs. The very mention of his brother seems to discourage further argument. "What is in need of me so urgently that a page has to be tasked to barge into my chambers?"

This little master has obviously been coddled severely. He is difficult to deal with but there was something in him, an element of vulnerability that coaxes anyone into wanting to protect him. "You are to begin your military training as soon as you are able. You should have started horsemanship exercises with your mentor, Matsuda-dono this morning. And in the afternoon, kenjutsu training with Ishimaki-dono would follow. It is already past midday, my lord."

Saburo frowns. What was with this page and with this schedule all of a sudden?

"I was told that during the meeting with the family retainers, you have gallantly assumed the role of general to take your... brother's place. The following activities would ensure to hone you into becoming a suitable war commander." The page spoke through memory as if he was reading an invisible script.

WHAT? The youth quickly felt overwhelmed... Hadn't it been only a few days after that night? And now he was supposed to pick up where he left off with his aniue's military agenda.

"As of today, I will be your aid, the one to watch over you and cater to your every need. Should I require assistance that is the only time I will be allowed to call upon your primary maidservant, Yuri-san and the head caretaker, Sayori-san. I admit I am a novice but I'll do my best for your benefit, my lord. I have prepared you a bath and a meal would be served afterwards until then please follow me." Haruhie had gone all jovial and cheery as if nothing was amiss.

In spite of the initial awkwardness and unresolved issues with this new servant, this Haruhie had a way with convincing reluctant moping young lords who refused to get out of bed.

He was vastly infuriating... his way of doing things bordering on the forcefully perky side made Saburo's brow twitch with irritation. Noncompliance could however result in more of this... "vivacious treatment" wracking the lordling's already frayed nerves. It was like dealing with a sunny version of Kotarou gone all wrong and...

This was better than Kotarou at the moment.

"Alright," Saburo huffed in defeat. "But you haven't told me your full name, Haruhie."

The page froze in mid-walk but manages to blurt in time, "Ueda Haruhie, my lord." He stifles a shiver about to shake his facade and continues, "Ueda-dono adopted me under his household when I was... orphaned."

...

Days earlier...

"So this is the boy," Among the veteran retainers, Ueda Tomonao was summoned to the dungeons by Tono-sama's order.

Unlike any other prisoner, the supposed hostage abducted from Hakone was detained on a holding chamber similar to a common room but instead of paper screens or stone doors, Kakizaki Haruhie was kept behind thick wooden bars that crisscrossed from the walls to the ceiling.

"The resemblance to his father is uncanny." Ueda regarded the withdrawn boy seated on a provided tatami. Despite how poorly he was treated, Haruhie still behaved like a stoic young man that showed his upbringing. "Tono, this child is indisputably the son of Kakizaki Kageie: one of Uesugi Kagetora's four Ten-ou. Why do you think him useless as a hostage?"

Hojo Ujimasa was obscured by a wooden divider often used by interrogators in some cases. In this instance, he merely wanted to observe without being identified in return, thus Ueda's ambiguous address of him. He would choose to reveal himself in due time. "Unless we can prove those baseless rumors, I might as well cast him running about my domain."

"Tono!" Ueda reacted before he could catch himself. "Though we can't afford to be that complacent, do you not trust my old spies from Musashi?"

"Your ties to the Uesugi are long severed. Distance erodes any lasting loyalties, that I know of. Kagetora is a charismatic man, he probably won those subjects a long time ago." Ujimasa nearly drawled.

"But that man is not Uesugi. He is an usurper. A snake charmer in your uncle's tongue. And besides, can you overlook a rumor regarding the Oda? Think about it, Tono." The elder man's enthusiasm on the subject matter was not affecting the daimyo one bit.

"Your sources state that there is unrest within the Uesugi because Kakizaki Kageie is having covert dealings with the Oda? If that rumor is indeed fact, how can we put having taken Kageie's son hostage more to our advantage? Do you suggest that we negotiate with the Oda to hasten ruin?"

"Tono...?"

Ujimasa gave a soft chuckle. "I don't trust the Oda. That obake91 Nobunaga seems to be incompatible with the very idea of an alliance. It will not work, old man."

"But Tono, I was thinking of—"

The daimyo held up one hand. "I will kindly put your idea under consideration but don't you think it strange that after we have wiped out Hakone of Uesugi remnants they have not retaliated at all? Even Hanaiin's abductors are silent. Something is up, I can feel it. I'm setting the hostage loose like bait."

The Sagami no Kami pinned the veteran with a deadly cold gaze, "And you, Ueda-san shall keep an eye on 'Ueda Haruhie'." 'I will coax the boy; make him comfortable in his captivity.' "That reminds me, Saburo has not acquired a page yet, am I correct?"

It sends Ueda Tomonao bowing before his absolute lord. "Indeed, Tono. What more do you need of me?"

"Treat Haruhie like your own. But do keep a really keen eye on him. If he makes any suspicious contacts, please alert me." Ujimasa's lip curls into one satisfied smile.

A soft knock interrupted their exchange.

The doors do not make a single sound when the shadow appeared right beside the daimyo. He whispers something on Ujimasa's ear making the receiver's brow twitch with irritation.

"Do make yourself acquainted with your old fellow's child, Ueda-san. I have to take my leave; Ojisama has requested an audience with me." The master of the realm grudgingly departs with Akito not far behind. The line of his back was one of strained displeasure.

A surprised Kakizaki Haruhie was led outside his prison and looks up into the kind eyes of an old man. "From this day on, I am your father. You will be called, Ueda Haruhie."

Though the weight of the hand on his shoulder was comforting, Ueda-dono's words felt like heavy manacles circling his wrists.

XxXMOBXxX

Watching the little master fight using a shinai92 was fascinating. He didn't know such a slender body could wield such potent strength and remarkable agility. Haruhie sat at one corner of the dojo entrusted with his new lord's towel, water pitcher, and a change of clothes. Saburo could easily outmatch most of the other apprentices... children of the family retainers in a sparring but then it was the kenjutsu master, Ishimaki Yasumasahimself who challenged him once it was past sunset.

It was not long before said lordling started grumbling. "Shishou, why have you bade the others leave when you keep me here longer? I am tired." Saburo said irately as he readied his makeshift weapon and refined his stance being left with no other choice.

"Tired from what? You dare complain, boy? Your form has fallen mediocre. Your skills are rusting as I see it. You are slower than usual and your footwork is ugly. Only your lack of practice and dedication has shown well." Yasumasa remarks as he shapes his stance. The teacher has not broken even a little sweat after their rigorous training.

The youth flares at the negative comments. "I do not— my skills are not mediocre!"

"Then prove it to me." Without warning, the master lunges forward and was upon Saburo in an instant. The tip of his shinai almost touches the youth's unprotected forehead.

Flustered and taken by surprise, Saburo swings his weapon wildly, trying to parry it to the side and making a quick backward retreat.

"Too slow as I said!" The sensei laughs. Saburo's parry doesn't connect and their gap was easily bridged. Yasumasa was on him again— Saburo scrambles to the side and was barely able to deflect an incoming blow to his shoulder. He pivots and attacks in return only to hit thin air.

The kenjutsu master whacks him lightly on the head.

"Urgh!" The lordling was intent on charging again.

"What did I say about keeping your guard up? If you attack, widen your stance, prepare for a counter always, and don't leave any opening spots! Don't advance too much if you're not certain you will hit the target." The sensei taps his shoulder with the blunt end as another of Saburo's slashes misses his face.

"And don't be so predictable!" Yasumasa catches his apprentice's overhead blow with one of his own. With a flick of his wrist he forcefully turns the weapon aside and draws back to send it flying to the ceiling.

Saburo was effectively and brutally disarmed. He gulps as his sensei checks his vulnerable throat.

Ishimaki Yasumasa's sharp eyes catch the fading mark of violence and some marks of passion as well. He sighs and huffs a bit in frustration. "Tired? Seriously? What you lack is stamina." He grins out of the blue and it takes Saburo quite a while for realization to sink in.

He drops his gaze as his cheeks burn scarlet.

Yasumasa finally breaks into loud guffaws that didn't help alleviate the abject humiliation his charge currently suffers from.

"Shishou!" Something metallic shines making Haruhie start before the temperamental youth boldly attacks his master.

With the shorter blade, he comes faster and more agile than the shinai. Strands of freshly cut hair fall to the floor before a struggle ensues.

The sharp point of the tanto makes a pinprick of blood to run down Yasumasa's chest. The master and the apprentice were in a deadlock: Yasumasa catches Saburo's wrists struggling to thrust him backward while the latter was determined to push it forward. "And what did I say about that hot temperament of yours? Choosing to attack me with a real weapon in the middle of sparring? How... underhanded. Here I was about to offer you some advice regarding 'that' matter, strengthening your stamina and whatnot." The kenjutsu specialist rolled his eyes. "Oh well." He brings a foot in the mix, his leg clamping over Saburo's arms, he twists his body and with a grunt of pain, the youth drops the weapon.

The apprentice was made to spin sideways with a sweep of that leg before collapsing in a sprawl both in defeat and exhaustion. "Not fair... using non-kenjutsu techniques on me..." Saburo panted.

"Let's not get distracted in training so this won't happen next time, yes?" Ishimaki-sensei said in a sing-song voice that grated on both the youth's ears and his pride.

The lordling stands up with the specialist's assistance and as nonchalantly as he could muster while dusting his bottom, asks, "Just how exactly did you know?"

"About what?" The master plays dumb causing the youth to nearly gnash his teeth.

"Is this the reason for having a page boy? Yuri-san almost blurted it out on me that you and Kotarou-dono..." Ishimaki Yasumasa trails off as the death gaze of the tiger hits him full force.

Haruhie perks up at this interaction. Who knew the little master could intimidate his shishou to silence with a mere admonishing look?

"Never mind. Some other time then." Yasumasa pacifies the lordling with a harmless smile.

"Hmph." The youth turns his back completely on his master and gratefully takes the offered towel and refreshment from Haruhie.

Together they leave the dojo past dusk (with a cheerfully waving Yasumasa behind) and return to the lordling's chambers.

XxXMOBXxX

Haruhie partially closed the windows the moment they arrive. As he lighted the lanterns he turns to the young lord, "The cool night air won't be good for you, my lord. Rest a bit away from the draft while I draw you a warm bath."

"Thank you." Saburo said gently to Haruhie's astonishment. "My lord?" He blinks.

"I know I am not easy to take care of and sometimes I have difficulty reining in my temper but I really appreciate everything that you're doing for me, Haruhie." The youth spoke quietly with a faraway, pensive expression that puzzled the page more.

Was this... loneliness?

"I am happy to serve you, my lord." The page replies with a slight ache in his chest. What was with this feeling? Seeing a glimpse of the youth's vulnerability helplessly draws Haruhie in like a thriving plant seeking the sun's rays.

"Saburo is just fine."

"But my lord..."

Saburo laughs quietly. "It sounds wrong coming from your lips somehow. Listening to you say it is like... it's awkward."

"Saburo... gimi." Haruhie amends and this time, it sounds right though a tad informal.

"Little lord?" Saburo repeats more bemused than annoyed.

Haruhie doesn't forget to bow this time, "I'll prepare the bath, Saburo-gimi."

...

...

Saburo dries his hair thoroughly by the side of the wooden tub. The water was still warm and giving off a pleasant scent of aromatic herbs. It helps him relax and let go of all tension.

He has declined further assistance in bathing wanting to compose himself alone and quell all distractions that plague his mind. Yet as he dons the fresh robe hanging by the rack, his thoughts wander once again to the two men he had allowed as close to him as possible.

Slipping carelessly back into his pensive mood he opens the shoji separating his bed and the bath. He fails to notice a lean figure standing by the foot of his futon for sometime now. The elongating shadow he casts on the floor was what alerted the lordling of his presence.

"Good evening, Wakasama." Kotarou drops on one knee as he addresses his young master reverently.

The protector's unexpected visit stops the youth dead in his tracks. Saburo's wide eyes unwittingly land first on the disfiguring line running down Kotarou's cheek. "Kotarou," His voice drops into a barely audible murmur.

The collected countenance he thought he owned shattered upon seeing this man whom he avoided for days. "What brings you here?" These words roll off his tongue, not knowing what more to say.

"I merely wanted to see you. I am glad that you are well." Kotarou answers softly.

The youth crosses his arms in a rebellious show of shrugging off inexplicable nervousness. "Yes, I am well as you can see. Now if you don't have anything more to say, you can leave. I want to be alone."

"Is that so? But you seem tired, Wakasama." The shadow observes with a hint of concern.

"I am fine, if there's anything I am famished. Where is Haruhie?" Saburo braves to walk past Kotarou aiming for the door when all of a sudden, strong arms wrap around him from behind effectively preventing his escape.

The youth immediately stiffens, the heat of their close contact, he feels all too much. "Why are you avoiding me?" Kotarou whispers on his ear.

"I'm not—!" Saburo soon struggles against his grip but already a deep blush had stained his face.

"Let go." He speaks imperiously but unfortunately not commanding enough. Kotarou holds on, burying his nose in the silk of his beloved's hair. "Answer me."

"How dare you make such a demand! I said release—" Words fail him as his robe drops to the floor making him practically naked within his protector's arms.

Ardent hands and deft fingers grasp and knead the exhausted and tense muscles of his shoulders and back. They turn him into a weak sagging weight by the floor. For some bizarre reason he couldn't get up (yet again). He could only sit with legs splayed on the side by the tatami while his hands support him. "Doing this again? You mad poor excuse of a man!" Saburo's heated curses only spurred the man on. He sweeps the youth's long hair to one side and presses his lips on exposed delicate sensitive skin.

"Your back is in poor shape. Have you strained yourself too much in sparring, Young Master?" Kotarou asks conversationally before taking a small sensual nip on the soft curve of Saburo's nape.

"You insolent fool..." The lordling's protests die when Kotarou's hands return fragrant, warm and slippery, applying just the right amount of pressure on the sore spots of his body. Soft sighs of bliss escape his lips as Kotarou massaged him most expertly with techniques that when used differently could easily incapacitate an aggressive foe in battle.

Saburo finds himself moments later, eyelids drooping, incoherent, and leaning heavily against Kotarou's body heat about to doze in wonderful lethargy. "Are you comfortable here, Young Master? Or do you want to go to bed?"

"Should you really be the one asking me that? You're prodding me down there, you know. I appreciate it if you'd not become so... affected while touching me." Saburo was dragging one word after another to come up with this string of sentences. His tongue felt heavy and his vocal cords would hardly cooperate.

"That is a difficult request. Just laying my eyes on you..."

"Don't say it." The youth interrupts. "If you're not planning to give me back the strength of my legs again anytime soon maybe being put to bed early is indeed better." He would be practically slurring next.

The shadow carries him without another word and gently lays him on top of smooth soft linens. Saburo lies defenselessly open, undressed, unable to lift a finger at will to the hungry eyes of the wolf.

And yet Kotarou smothers his raging desire and passively lies beside his young lord. "Wakasama, you still haven't answered my question."

Saburo manages to crack one eye open. "Odd, you prefer an answer than having your way with me again." He mumbles, eyes drifting shut once more.

The protector's brow furrows. Was that it? Was it the reason?

Fear?

Uncertainty?

"Saburo, I know your body very well and I feel and listen to what it wants intently. But if you would really tell me that you don't want to, it is alright with me."

A quiet but derisive chuckle issues beside him. "Liar."

A pang of hurt fleetingly crosses Kotarou's face. "Wakasama..."

The shinobi rises to wrap a blanket on the slender body's nude form and says quietly, "Sleep Wakasama, once you wake up I shall bring you a tray of food if you are hungry."

Sometime in the night in the middle of sleep, Saburo had turned to Kotarou's side and instinctively moved closer to the other's warmth.

~TBC

91 – As in Bakemono, a shape-shifting monster in Japanese Folklore.

92 – A flexible makeshift sword made of bamboo.

Post A/N: This chapter somewhat contained a less serious theme. I hope it didn't steer to far away from the general 'feel' of the era. Please tell me if it diverted too much from the fic's dramatic atmosphere. Reviews, comments, and constructive criticisms are welcome!
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400 Years Apart