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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
- 34
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Chapter 35:

ULTIMARINA, Pearl in the Deep: Part 11

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.

Thank you for the wonderful reviews you have given me so far! They really encourage and inspire me to write as soon as able. At one point, I had thought of stopping this story for some of the elements here reflect life’s experiences. Again thank you for bearing with me and I hope until the end. To (Ammy-chan) Amarissia, Selvaspeedy, and Michelle especially, thank you for your feedbacks. I really appreciate them.

…

Somewhere in his sleep, the warmth radiating beside him had vanished. Still with eyes closed, Haruhie stuck out one hand and blindly felt for the supposed blanket-huddled form of Saburo. He grasped nothing but cold soft linen and he rolled on his stomach with a grunt. His body still craved sleep for he had been awake for two nights, watching over Saburo who refused to speak, eat or move from his curled up position at the far-end of the cabin. Much more than anything, Haruhie was on the lookout for Naoe.

He had been a witness to the way the man beheld his beloved friend. Haruhie himself had listened to the man confess of his treachery and his single-mindedness to take Saburo as his own. He knew… knew the potential danger of leaving the pair alone too long. Naoe was an earnest man, keen and honest with his words but he would be just as formidable as Saburo’s protector as he were Saburo’s aggressor. When he had heard the strained shout Haruhie had not thought twice and barged inside, destroying the lock of the small door.

He need not even look at them to know what was happening. Only his fierce need to protect Saburo drove him to stand in between them. His heart clenched as he had held Saburo’s exposed and trembling body to himself. He should have been more vigilant. He should be just as guilty as Naoe for letting the tension spiral out of control. That was why Haruhie had to make it up to Saburo somehow. Despite the hurt from Saburo’s anger and rejection, Haruhie had stayed. It seems his concern for Hojo Saburo’s well-being is innate.

Now that innate worry far outweighed the exhaustion and lethargy of his body. He forced himself to sit up and rubbed his eyes. He glanced sideways and in the hanging lamplight could find himself alone in the futon. His sluggish consciousness slowly pieced together that if he had the cabin all to himself then the two others must be…

“!” Panic awoke him like a bucketful of ice-cold water. He already promised himself he would not let those two be together without supervision. And now he was back to lapsing on the same blunder. No time to put on his zori he briskly opened the cabin door and stepped barefoot outside.

The waves were calm, the huge sail was rolled at the masts for the time being, there was but a soughing sea breeze and the full moon still shone above. Countless stars glittered in the sky and they winked and twinkled at him like many jewels. He shook his head from the otherworldly distraction they provided and searched the deck for his companions. Naoe was nowhere to be found. But there at the platform near the prow was a lithe figure with his blade drawn.

Shadow fighting, Haruhie thought. He stopped himself from running over to Saburo’s side and watched.

Saburo put a strong foot forward and slashed lengthwise at something in the air. Drawing back suddenly, he circled his invisible opponent who seemed to have evaded his decisive blow. Then after finding an opening, he advanced at the fleeing enemy with graceful and lethal strokes of his katana. In another unexpected turn, he shifted his weight behind raising his blade defensively. His opponent had counterattacked and sought another chance to strike, which he was not about to give. Saburo parried his enemy’s blow with the sheath of his sword, which he seemed to draw from nowhere and such speed that left Haruhie gawking in amazement.

Once more on the offensive, Saburo employed his scabbard like a second blade to knock and deter the enemy’s weaker, less precise moves. Then as his opponent was about to be cornered, he surprisingly drew back. He sheathed his sword but did not take one hand off it and circled again.

Haruhie’s brow creased in both confusion and awe. If he were on the receiving end of this unexpected maneuver, he would not know what to do. Saburo suddenly stopped all movement. But Haruhie was not fooled for the youth’s sword stance remains firm and there was an odd tension radiating from him like an arrow-loaded bow strung tight. And then in a heartbeat he fired: Saburo’s blade flashed in the moonlight swiftly decapitating the reckless enemy who, Haruhie now realized (confused and goaded foolishly) charged at Saburo only to be sliced cleanly in half.

The blinding rapidness of the way Saburo drew his blade and slashed the incoming opponent was like a single-infused stroke that left Haruhie marveling and heart pounding in exhilaration. He couldn’t help but be entranced by his charge’s martial prowess.

Saburo seemed one with his blade. The traces of his vulnerability and the distress of suffering betrayal were absent from his deadly warrior’s form.

The youth still believed that Haruhie had deliberately withheld his identity and had conspired with Naoe to make him a hostage, Haruhie mused sadly. Saburo still had spoken not a word to him. Even at those sparse times where Haruhie did vigil, kept a safe distance, and showed no intention of harm, didn’t make Saburo spare him a glance. Only when sleep finally won its hopeless battle in stubborn and distraught nerves did the youth settle and rest at the futon. As Saburo slept if a little fitfully did Haruhie himself, succumb to a doze.

And now finding him awake late in the night, not weeping or sulking but sharpening his kenjutsu (probably to vent his frustrations) made Haruhie’s soul swell with overwhelming adoration and pride. This young man who willingly offered himself to journey across the sea for the sake of his abducted cousin, who braved the possibilities of not seeing his family again, and put sole faith on the good word of his captor, was showing his inner strength against all odds. For him there was no time to despair, though betrayed and manipulated, he strode forward with a fierce determination. It was then that Haruhie’s loyalty to the Uesugi began to slough off like dead, old-worn skin. His purpose at Hakone, his father’s affection, everything in him that was Kakizaki stripped and shed slowly, slowly, thoroughly until he was only Haruhie who was intent to follow Saburo until the end.

The roofing of their small cabin creaked and a tall man landed on the deck softly on his feet. His weight caused the modest-sized junk ship to sway a little in the waves but as durable wood absorbed the shock, the flooring felt level again.

Saburo who kept his balance turned to face the man even before Naoe spoke, “Don’t you think it would be better if your opponent was more solid than shadow?”

For a tense moment, Haruhie thought the man was challenging the youth for a duel.

Naoe had expected Saburo to spite him like a hostage: aloof but defiant, silent but baleful and surely he was ill prepared for the youth to reply, “A shadow is more preferable an enemy for me right now, for if you would offer I might forget myself and cut you real.”

“I would not mind,” Recovering swiftly, Naoe, countered.

Saburo’s eyes narrowed. He coldly tore his gaze away, sheathed his sword and proceeded to ignore the man this time.

Haruhie wanted to take his chance with the youth. So he immediately stepped back inside when he saw Saburo approach. He watched Saburo enter the cabin without a backward glance at Naoe and waited to be ordered out.

But Saburo slumped on his side of the futon, suddenly tired. “I’m hungry… and thirsty.” He muttered to no one in particular. “I should have thought about this before wasting energy.” His stomach rumbled and he curled up on the floor with his blade within reach. Saburo grimaced but rolled to his side, determined to sleep it off.

When he was on the edge of dreams, a pleasant aroma wafted close. His eyes opened blearily for his stomach gave protests that are more insistent this time. A tray with a bowl of rice, a steaming bowl of soup and grilled flesh of meat of some sort were prepared before him. He was famished but being on the receiving end of twice the treachery had significantly lowered his appetite. A sudden bout of anger seized him and he almost toppled the tray but he recalled his brief childhood in the care of his great uncle at the temple. Genan-oji who had personally seen to his meals and made sure they were healthy though unappetizingly and always comprised of rice, soup, and boiled vegetables told him that having food was a blessing.

Hojo Genan, his great uncle who pleaded to sail with him to see his daughter… Saburo brought a clenched fist against his chest. He must not fail them. In exchange for the future of the Hojo with Ujimasa-kou and Hanaiin-hime as the foundations, he must endure and forget his own. Firstly, looking after himself with no expectations of mercy or care would be helpful.

“Saburo-gimi…” Haruhie hesitantly called to him.

Without thinking, he snarled, “I don’t need your pity.”

Haruhie’s face wrenched in hurt and there were tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. But the lad fought it off with a smile. “It is not out of pity that I bring you food. It is what every human being needs.” Haruhie said without imposing himself unnecessarily. His words were candid and held no untruth. Saburo wanted to say he should have been so earlier but the expression Haruhie wore; bracing for more of his lashings stopped him. What has this lad done to him so grave since but be kind and be protective of him even now?

His anger and fury gradually drained and bled out of him like a deep gaping wound. Being cross with Haruhie would serve no purpose. He does not even deserve it; his conscience nagged him. Saburo eventually gave up. “I’ll eat it. It’s a shame to waste food.” He said in a tired tone.

Haruhie smiled timidly and shuffled to give him space: a gesture that endeared the lad to the lordling. Between the two of them, Haruhie was acting all careful and gingerly like he had been the one to commit offense.

He must be like some dangerous hissing beast, Saburo thought of himself. And to appease him, Haruhie had brought him (Saburo) food so he would not eat him (Haruhie) instead. The idea amused him a little and strangely struck a good note. He ate more heartily and wondered distantly if playing the flute would soothe him enough… to forgive.

Then he thought of him...

Fuma Kotarou.

As he swallowed a bite of succulent dove meat, his thoughts drifted on his last night with his contract, his guardian, and protector. He remembered that something about Kotarou and about their… (His cheeks colored slightly) coupling did not seem right. The shadow had been too needy, too easily provoked, too… sensitive. They were qualities Kotarou never exhibited before. Was a man… even an emotionally dulled, killing tool of war able to succumb to the weaknesses of the flesh out of desperation alone?

Saburo also recalled that Kotarou knew his plans and had been utterly resolute in preventing him from going to or at least meeting Naoe without his protection. And so Kotarou had asked for that. As was his duty to his contract, he had obliged knowing in the far recesses of his mind that he might never see Kotarou again. Somewhere in the middle of lovemaking… right when the astute shinobi discovered the hidden trinket bestowed by Naoe and ripped the kerchief before his eyes, something had changed in the man though subtle as it is. His eyes had opened wider in desire and there was an odd tension in his frame as if he would snap or break from any semblance of control.

And he, being a mischievous, eager, and adventurous youth had declared that he wanted to take Kotarou and become the dominant. Saburo almost bristled at the memory; the shadow had thought his daring amusing and had bluntly told him in lewd detail that he, Kotarou having an untouched ass was worried how his young master would fare against his tightness and how much that might hurt Saburo. Despite the concern, the lordling very much recalled how Kotarou intended to keep his young master’s flesh inside his passage for as long as possible, nevertheless.

Apparently, he was blushing rather hotly now for Haruhie was giving him a puzzled, concerned expression like he wanted to put his hand over Saburo’s head and expect a fever.

The youth straightened, trying to dispel the perverted thoughts that sprung out of nowhere and tried to steer his mind back into a serious pondering. It was hard to think objectively while remembering scenes that are downright… the thoughts trailed off. If he does not stop musing like this, Haruhie would certainly come over and be his usual fussy self.

The lad did not approach, however. Haruhie was still too wary of his moods and did not want to assume that all was well between them again.

Saburo felt his fingers prickle and the longing for music, of playing the flute blossomed again. He was itching to play, to soothe himself but thinking of the ivory flute, his Ujiteru-ani’s keepsake inevitably led him to Fuma Kotarou. He wondered why he had not merely ordered the shadow to return it to him on that last night of passion.

It flew out of his mind, especially because Kotarou’s unexplained and bizarre exhaustion… yes, Kotarou had fallen unconscious after completion and it had startled him as much as Haruhie’s discovery of them all tangled and intimately entwined on the floor. If Haruhie had discovered them then why did Naoe describe the scene to him like he had been there himself?

During their duel in the lodging, Naoe had furiously called attention to the scent of his body. Saburo had smelled of recent coupling that had enraged Naoe. The man had demanded, pleaded, threatened, and particularly pointed out how Saburo’s lover could never satisfy him since that one had collapsed immediately after the act. He knew! Naoe had known and had admitted it was his doing!

Naoe did something to Kotarou.

How else could they have escaped with little interference?

Fuma Kotarou, his guardian, his protector, and his contract would have fought tooth and nail to prevent the abduction. It would not have been so easy to let him go.

Treachery.

Haruhie was disapprovingly speaking first of Naoe’s treachery.

Did Naoe do something to him as well? As his body starved for nearly two days, whatever dulled his memories or his senses must have burned out. Pushing the empty eating utensils away, Saburo fell into a pensive mood. His next move would not be anything like himself. He once thought himself incapable of this but dire situations have altered his mindset. “Haruhie, you said that I had been sick several nights before. What was the cause of it? Did Naoe tell you?”

Wide-eyed, Haruhie looked up but Saburo immediately saw the uncertainty and conflicting sentiments on his face. He fought the urge to sigh. What he was doing wasn’t fair to Haruhie but a strange persona overtook his sensibilities. If Saburo would act meek and submissive, fate would swallow him. He must learn how to be formidable, firm, and sometimes unfeeling in his decisions. “Well?” He pressed on.

“It is useless to lie to you, Saburo-gimi but though I’m certain you’ve heard me disapprove of Naoe’s deed; it is not mine to tell.” Haruhie’s response was well placed. It reminded him that Haruhie was no juvenile but rather, Uesugi retainer of his own right.

So this is how it comes down, Saburo mused wryly. “Would you mind if you invite Naoe himself so he could attest to that deed?”

Haruhie was already at the door when Saburo spoke again, “And please Haruhie no matter what happens…”

Haruhie’s brows rose, dreading… “Don’t interfere.” Saburo pinned him with a gaze sharper than steel and he used the excuse to exit to avoid being skewered alive.

…

He had done it…no. Almost done it.

It surprised him how little control of self he had. Even after those nightmares or those mad urges he fought to suppress, he still succumbed to the impulse. He was the worst.

‘I am becoming a… monster.’ He raked a rough hand through his unruly hair in frustration. What kind of adult man was he? Did he forget he was dealing with a bereaved, lonely, and temperamental youth? Youth often let their words run away with their anger. Most of the words spoken in fury were not really meant. He must know better than to be provoked and act rashly like he did.

Until now he did not… he could not imagine the power Saburo had over him. Just by words alone, he didn’t know he could be so affected and hurt he might really be a lovesick woman. Wasn’t that what Saburo told him in the cave? And that he himself had admitted that between the two of them, he was the fool.

‘A fool for you, indeed.’ But that was no justification for his recent actions. He had intended to force himself on his beloved youth. He almost harmed the one whom he was supposed to protect and care for. How could Saburo allow Naoe to be by his side? ‘How can he put his trust in a dangerous man such as I?’

Instead of being better, he was getting worse. Weren’t men supposed to become their best at love? Where was his soulful and sensible friend when he needed him?

‘Nagahide… I declared my feelings not to a woman but to a young man but it seemed I cannot even begin to understand having to care for someone. I am at a loss. When I needed to be understanding, I become intolerant. When I needed to be careful, I become impulsive. When I needed to be loving, I become violent. When I needed to be giving, I become selfish. It is like holding a precious dove. I want to be kind and gentle but instead I own and possess, block out everything and everyone else and overwhelm my cherished one into my madness. And with it, I might…’

He did not want to think after that.

The image of the dove in his hands, harmed, broken, suffocating, and eventually dying as he crushed it in his unrelenting hold. And that was why… when he saw the youth’s sword dance; an inevitable conclusion possessed him. Would it be better if I were killed by your blade? You would right my wrongs. With your sword through my heart… you would be able to do what you could not do on that night I assaulted you* and then I will be purged, punished by how heaven sees fit. The gods would rejoice as your aniue admonished me that I deserve hell for laying hands on you… one beloved by the divine.’

Naoe did not know at that point that his thoughts and intentions were parallel with the one he had considered his rival.

Fuma Kotarou.

(*Naoe is talking about the night they abducted Hanaiin. See chapter 15 for reference.)

“You’re not thinking of jumping into the water, are you? Not when we’re already so close to the island.” A voice chided and Naoe stepped back before a pale-white hand could land on his shoulder.

The master illusionist, Kato Danzo faced him with a mischievous grin. “Rennyo-san you are getting out of hand.” Shaking his head, he clucked his tongue in mock-disappointment.

“This doesn’t involve you. Go hide yourself in your illusions before either Haruhie or Saburo sees you are aboard.” Naoe snapped in annoyance.

“Too late!” The shadow flashed him a disturbingly triumphant smirk. “Your ‘precious one’ has already sensed my presence. But it would take him more than that ‘shadow play’ to find me.”

“He doesn’t need to see you to stick a blade through your throat, Shinobi-sama. For all I know, it was you invisibly running about my vessel as he made sport of you a while ago.” Naoe said dryly.

“Just recently, you were wallowing in your love woes and now you’re boasting the brat’s sword skills? Your mood swings faster than a woman’s!” Danzo squeaked and leapt aside before Naoe’s katana could poke his eye off the socket.

“I dare you to say that again.” Naoe growled with a frightening displeased expression.

“What is with stating mood swings and stating the brat in one sentence that makes every man obsessed with him, wild? Aiii!” The shadow flung an indiscernible cloth in the air and dove into it, disappearing under Naoe’s extreme irritation.

“Naoe-san,” A different voice called to Naoe this time and he didn’t need to turn to see that it was Haruhie.

“What is it?” The man asked trying to sound patient.

“Saburo-gimi wants a word with you.” Haruhie walked over to the ledge and did not wait for his response. The lad deliberately did not look at him as well. Then Naoe understood that Saburo wanted to speak with him and privately. As he headed for the cabin, the lad spoke, “Please… don’t make me hold him in distress again. Or else I would be forced to knock you unconscious to come in between you this time… even if it angers him.”

Naoe paused and dropped his katana. Then without a reply, he entered the cabin and closed the door behind him.

Haruhie fretted but forced himself to calm down. He looked up at the studded sky and watched the stars disappear, the blanket of midnight fading into indigo blue. Another dawn approaches.

…

“You called for me.” Naoe announced before he could take another step towards the youth who sat with one leg tucked in while his eyes stared unseeing at the grainy wooden panel of the cabin wall.

“Make no mistake. Our agreement stays on. I am still your hostage in exchange. I just want to know, that’s all.” The youth finally spoke after a long period of brooding silence. He did not look at Naoe however. His eyes remained distant; his face was a mask of stone. And as if Naoe was seeing things, Saburo resembled the Hojo daimyo in tone of speech and demeanor. It intimidated him like the tiger’s gaze with which he was so familiar but did not let it show.

Instead, the man displayed submission and humbled his stature before a captive who outranked him (as he was supposed to before he impertinently assumed the role of an elder lover). “Am I allowed to sit at least across from you?”

Saburo did glare at him then. “Sit wherever you want. This is your ship is it not?”

“I suppose.” The man shrugged but occupied a spot considering the youth’s personal space. He sat within the blade’s reach if it comforts the lordling. The katana was the first thing that caught his eye when he entered after all. If the youth wanted to keep a weapon close to him after suffering from assault then it was only understandable.

“Tell me of your treachery. What did you do to Kotarou? What did you do to my protector… to me…?” The words were spoken so quietly… so restrainedly that it made the hurt and indignation much more felt.

Naoe painfully looked away and thought to himself that this must be his dreaded heaven’s trial unfolding right before him. He was about to confess his crimes before judgment was placed upon him. Justifying the reason of his treachery for intense, mad love seemed all the more damnable. He felt a thousand times cursed as he opened his mouth. “There was no way he would allow you to be parted from him. No matter how willingly you gave yourself for the life of your cousin… he would have made things difficult.”

The mask of stone cracked, Saburo’s face creased in anguish. “What… did you do?” He reiterated in a slow malignant hiss if the man dared not answer directly.

For a moment, the youth’s anguish mirrored the man’s own but when he spoke, Naoe’s face became blank like all the life and passion had been drained from him. The flames in his beating heart that love had rekindled now threatened to die in wintry cold. “I poisoned him with the effects that mimic that of an aphrodisiac. If he lasts and copulates long enough he unintentionally passes the poison in his blood to his body fluid.”

Saburo turns deathly pale. “So when he…” He swallowed for his throat has suddenly gone very dry. “He passed it on to me and collapsed. He wouldn’t be—”

Naoe smothered the abrupt stab of agony at the sight of his beloved’s worry for the other man. “No, he wouldn’t die of it. I find that most of the current Fuma have Iga blood in them. They are immune to a variety of poisons and their bodies readily adapt to new ones.”

The youth’s eyes flashed at him in combined fear and anger. “Then what about me? Does not that mean I should have…?”

“Your body rejected the poison outright. That was why you became sick and slept for a long time.” The man said despondently. His beloved must truly hate him now. Any little affection he might have left for this detestable and traitorous man should be lost after this revelation; Naoe bowed his head in misery.

It appears however that the vengeful divine were not finished with him. “What happens after the body’s rejection of the poison? Does it not have any lasting effects? Or…” The heavens must all conspire against him for if Saburo were any mediocre youth, he would not reach into several intelligent conclusions. “Can it stay in the blood once it is neutralized by the chi or does it disappear without a trace?”

How could he know that there was more to it? That by doing so, Naoe has ensured that Saburo would never be able to have intercourse with another without doing that other serious harm. The sleeping oni within the war giant was stirring again. “When your contract came inside you, his body had already made the beginnings of resistance to counter the poison before it was transferred to you. That was why though your body was ill equipped it finally managed to overcome the effects.”

“So it is merely neutralized…? It is still inside…”

“It stays. But in you remains the weakened poison. I do not know what happens if you have further contact with the original source.” Naoe deliberately sealed his fate with those unfeeling phrases. His intended end was inevitable after all.

Still Saburo had to ask. Can he not understand the depth of the man’s madness? Can he not begin to fathom such selfishness, such unrelenting need to own and possess?

“Why?"

And Naoe was yet bound to admit the reason, the blasphemous reason that damns him for all eternity. “Because I love you.”

Saburo reeled at the words as if he wanted to shy away better yet escape from them and if there was anything that could hurt Naoe the most it was this.

“Love?” Saburo looked as if the mere word might choke him. His eyes were strained and full of pain. “Is this how you love?”

“Yes. Though I do not deserve it, forgive me Beloved. But I do not regret what I have done no matter how treacherous it may be. The only thing I do regret is exposing you to harm.”

The youth’s voice has gone softer, weaker, more appalled. “You… do not regret? You are most shameless, untrustworthy, and I… and I…” Biting his lip, Saburo shook his head. Suddenly, a large hand touched his’ and he started but was unable to pull away.

“Indeed I am becoming out of hand. I am not myself, not now nor will I ever be. Until I feel assured that you would belong to no one else, my heart and mind could never rest. It drives me to foolishness and to madness.” Gently and with eyes downcast, Naoe carefully held that beautiful hand as if his very life depended on it.

Saburo did not know what entity had possessed him for allowing the man to keep holding his hand. He could not say anything.

“I am not worthy to be by your side.” Naoe brought that strong elegant hand to his lips. It clenched but again, Saburo did not pull it back and instead he turned his flushed face away.

For blushing like a maiden, Saburo wanted to mentally kick himself. Was he not supposed to be full of hate and disgust for this mad excuse of a man? He snapped out of his thoughts as his hand was held above a man’s strongly beating heart. Saburo’s fingers came upon a thick scar and he stilled tracing the warm, slightly raised skin.

“You almost dealt me the killing blow that night. Ironically it was your flute that saved my life.”

Saburo opened his mouth to say something, probably to tell Naoe to release him but not a sound came out. Naoe covered Saburo’s hand with his own over that significant place and closed his eyes. “Just letting yourself touch me here is enough forgiveness. I do not think I can even ask pardon for my life. But I will gladly give my life to you now if I have to… to keep you safe.”

“What are you…?” Dread bloomed in the youth’s heart. He knew what those words meant. He knew them well for was there not another man who had asked him the very same thing too many times for his transgressions?

‘You and Kotarou… how could you be so alike in this and be so different at the same time?’ Saburo pulled his hand free and stood up. “Don’t mock me. Death isn’t always the answer.”

Naoe remained slumped, head bowed and forlorn on the floor. “Please tell me what more to do.”

“Keep your word! That is all I ask. My life for Hanaiin’s freedom for that is what we have agreed upon.”

Naoe rose and swayed a little at the sudden wave beneath his feet. He wrapped himself around Saburo who did not bother to fight or move away. “No… No!” Naoe wept in anguish. He buried his face on the youth’s shoulder and inhaled his scent. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Saburo hesitantly held the man who was whining like a child in his arms. Naoe was so terrible to understand. Passionate and violent one moment, kind meek and loving the next… the youth did not know how to deal with him anymore. “Then how can I save Hanaiin?”

The man must have noticed how pathetic he was acting and swiftly collected himself. He grasped his beloved’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. A sudden surge of affection made Saburo’s gaze falter, seeing the man’s eyes still hazy with tears. Before he could register what he was doing, the youth lifted his hand and wiped at the moist streaks.

Naoe’s eyes gentled further in a mixture of gratitude and adoration. His mind had come up with the answer just then. “Haruhie.”

“Haruhie?” Saburo slowly repeated. The piece they had been searching for clicked into place. The freedom of a hostage for another’s; the youth’s eyes lit up in realization.

The man lovingly stroked his cherished one’s cheek. “Do not worry. I will speak with him and carefully plan this out.”

Saburo still appeared troubled. “What would become of me then?”

Naoe smiled affectionately and with words filled with unerring conviction he said, “I will bring you back home.”

“Home?” The youth stared in confusion.

“To your home, back to the shores of Sagami.” Naoe had made up his mind. This was where his loyalty truly rested. “When we return to Odawara it would be with you and Hanaiin-san. I will protect you both.”

Many questions flashed in the youth’s face at once but the man could see that Saburo readily suppressed them. The flooring swayed more strongly beneath their feet and the soughing of winds became louder.

There was a loud knock and the pair separated. When Naoe opened the door, Haruhie’s face was already a bit wet. “Forgive me for interrupting but I’m sure you have felt it. A storm is coming.”

~TBC

Post A/N: Two Uesugi retainers lost to Saburo’s charms. How would the Uesugi fare after that? Better yet, will Haruhie stay by Saburo’s side as he had promised or leave for Echigo to protect him? A sea of trouble awaits! Please leave a review and tell me what you think.
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400 Years Apart