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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
- 36
- 37
- 38
Chapter 37:

ULTIMARINA, Pearl in the Deep: Part 13

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.

Disclaimer: See (chapter one)

False names would once again be used at Hatsushima Arc:

Hojo Saburo – Tsune

Naoe Nobutsuna – Nagashiro

…

The odd tingling sensation at the back of his neck would not disappear. Half leaning against the tree while his aggressor purposefully left him there as if he could use it as some sort of protection made the youth’s stomach turn fitfully. Danger watched him from afar bowing mockingly in subservience. Only small shafts of light permeated the denseness of the tree leaves cloaking the bent figure more in shadow.

A sudden gust blew ruffling the grass and trees that the sun’s rays shortly flowed. Saburo peered at the slowly approaching figure whose steps did not even produce the subtlest of sounds. It suddenly dawned on the youth that the intensity of darkness in his aggressor enabled him to detect his presence. Like a void sucking the light, the surroundings paled to him in comparison.

Survival instincts screaming more incessantly, he nearly shied against the trunk desperately grasping for something, anything he could use as a weapon. His trembling hand met with a rough sturdy branch and even as his fingers curled around it, his other continued to feel for the ever-present tanto that was sadly not there.

Unarmed.

Trapped.

Lost.

Saburo gripped the branch with both his hands like he would a katana and swallowed the rising fear before it petrified him useless. He yelled, deflecting an incoming object that was thrown at him. Another swiftly came however and he failed to evade it completely. His cheek smarted where a line of blood soon appeared. Saburo spared little time to discover what had injured him and focused on his opponent who stood on the same exact spot as if movement did not even occur. He appeared dead as a statue, harmless and ominous at the same time that grated on the youth’s nerves.

The lordling charged forward, determined to strike first if not with the wood but with fists and hit nothing but air. The instant he curbed his open stance towards the defensive, a warm moist sensation brushed almost intimately against his wound. He hissed, slashed reflexively, angrily, at his opponent who barely connected with his stroke and jumped way out of reach.

The tickling on his nape increased and Saburo found in horror that his aggressor had landed behind him. As if to provoke him, the man made a noise of licking his lips. The boy whirled away with another inept slash grinding his teeth in indignation before grasping his cheek, which he knew now, was licked off.

The aggressor whose face remained obscure took a broken branch similar to Saburo’s own. With it, he raced towards his prey in unearthly speed and struck with a blow so hard, it almost knocked the youth’s makeshift weapon away. Forcing himself to regain his bearings, Saburo hurled himself sideways to avoid another blow. His opponent pursued him relentlessly still and showered him with masterful strokes, few he could parry or dodge.

Stealing a glance to his left made Saburo realize that he was about to be cornered between the narrow gap of two broad trunks. Brashly, Saburo met the other’s attacks head on, uncaring if he were struck and maneuvered himself through his aggressor’s unguarded side. Making a wide step he managed to pivot his way past— “!” but not before taking a fist to the stomach did his stance falter a bit.

The impact surprised him and left him winded enough to sag a little on the ground. He winced in pain and fell on one knee with a grunt. Stubbornly keeping his weapon trained on his foe who stood unmoving again, fed his rage. Was this man mocking him? His opponent was definitely so much stronger but the fact that he played with the weak made the lordling angrier. He would eventually go down but not without a fight. Biting back the hurt, Saburo stood up and felt wind rush after him. He would be damned if he allowed this trick to be done to him twice.

He was turning, weapon out and at the ready when the slash came. Sliding his stronger foot at the rear, Saburo with all the strength struck sideways. Consequently, his opponent’s weapon flew out of reach but a glint of steel made amber eyes widen.

Saburo drew back with a light scratch on his hand but a punishing grip seized his wrist. Before he had the wit to lash back, a sly tongue was out and lapped at the trickling blood. Shivering at their second contact, the youth only had a heartbeat to see a sharp edge aiming between his eyes.

Dropping the branch, the youth caught the kunai in mid-thrust and a struggle ensued. His aggressor pushed with one hand while he, using both shoved it away. Thinking fast and fighting from memory, Saburo allowed himself to be driven to the ground. The moment his back hit the earth however, he bowed to the other’s strength so the other lost control. He promptly rolled away and was on his feet before his opponent realized what happened.

To his disappointment and irritation, the man, again remained where he was. If he was given this much leeway in their fight, could that mean he should be dead a long while ago? ‘I am being toyed with!’ His opponent could only be amusing himself with Saburo’s struggles. Making the youth believe that he had a chance and then showing him the opposite when the man deemed it was time to end the game.

To not be taken seriously in a duel and to be not worthy enough to kill were harsh blows on the lordling’s pride. Wait, why am I…?

Saburo happened to look down and there embedded on the ground something metallic caught his eye. As if the discarded kunai beckoned to him, the youth reached to pick it up. Now armed, he slowly approached the unmoving figure whose unwillingness to show his face kept his head lowered.

Then only did Saburo realize he was tired from the fight and his racing heartbeat made his grip on the weapon slippery with sweat. His aggressor’s steadiness in that defenseless posture made him think second thoughts.

Was he not going to move?

Was he hiding another weapon somewhere?

When would he strike back?

Heartbeat thudding deafeningly in his ears, he raised the kunai. Wide-eyed and almost overwrought with nervousness, Saburo hesitated a fraction and then drove the blade towards his target.

Before he even felt it, the kunai came snatched off his hands. His body was suddenly held against a hard firm torso while a strong arm prevented his escape. The point of his supposed weapon pressed at the skin near the jugular; Saburo’s mind went blank and he forgot his half-formed struggle.

It was over.

Like a prey caught in between the fangs of the predator there was little, he could do.

Saburo looked straight ahead, as he waited for the stab… He felt a pinprick of pain before the pressure of the kunai vanished. A thin line of red ran down his neck and the youth could not even flinch as something warm and wet collected his sweet lifeblood, savoring its taste.

“Damn, stop molesting me.” Saburo said weakly, trying to lean away from the touch his body knew so intimately well.

“If you had not hesitated, you would have succeeded.” A familiar voice rumbled almost huskily against his nape. “Yet you did and that was a very grave mistake, Wakasama.”

Eyes widening in shock, Saburo froze. “You…? How?” He could not get any coherent word out.

“The taste of your blood is different. I was afraid it had come to this.” Shamelessly, Kotarou continued to lick at his wound.

“Did I not tell you… to stop it?” The youth managed, unexpectedly breathless.

Instead of obeying, the elite shinobi suckled and nipped at the cut making it throb. Saburo grimaced in pain and in unwanted pleasure. His senses told him that something was not right. Was this man truly his protector? If he was, then Kotarou was behaving oddly. He seemed different somehow but right now, he could not decipher what.

When those arms grew more possessive, Saburo realized that being caught meant that Kotarou would not be letting go. That was sure to arrive at complications if Haruhie and Naoe were looking for him at this moment. He absolutely could not… he must not let Naoe and Kotarou get wind of each other!

“Did you know that I was tainted? The toxin in my blood is always in a state of lust. It craves for yours unceasingly.” Kotarou murmured darkly arousing panic in Saburo more than ever.

“Let go!” He said forcefully fighting against the man’s embrace.

“Oh?” One wayward hand slipped inside the youth’s robe. Crafty fingers sought one hard nipple and squeezed.

“Ngh!” Saburo now felt strange as well. As if it had a mind of its own, his body gradually became lascivious and hungered for his protector’s touch. If he lets himself be affected and be carried away… all he had worked for in coming this far would be wasted. ‘Enough! I have vowed to be selfish with you only once! Our selfishness should not thrive in this place!’

“Enough, Kotarou!”

The reproach in his command caught the shadow off guard, which finally allowed him to break free. What Saburo beheld in the guise of Kotarou chilled the very bones of his body.

The man’s gaze was darker like death itself lurked in it. His stance and bearing that held idleness and indifference in them once, now emitted malice and untamed viciousness. He appeared much more dangerous and less in control than before. “What… happened to… you?” Saburo almost stumbled back in the presence of an aura so monstrous and overpowering that it engulfed Kotarou.

“Did I not tell you Wakasama that I was changed? Outwardly, nothing seems to have at first glance but within me… I am consumed by an insatiable need to violate you.” Kotarou started to walk towards Saburo who was unconsciously shaking on his feet.

Taking half a step in retreat, Saburo inadvertently provoked Kotarou to lunge at him.

The youth hit the ground while the predator climbed itself over him, pinning his arms and legs. “Forgive me but I really wished to see you writhing and wetting yourself in want right now.” Kotarou said as he licked the soft shell of one ear.

The youth shivered, his body equally stirred on its own accord but he turned his head defiantly. “To think that Naoe was responsible for this…!”

The shinobi stiffened. Hearing that name unhinged something in his system. He recoiled away from Saburo and clawed at his scalp. Perplexed of this development, Saburo was able to sit up. Seeing Kotarou crouched on the ground, face creased as if in terrible pain made the youth want to go to him.

Affectionately cradled at his marred cheek, his weakness, Kotarou cringed at Saburo’s touch but grated out, “That man distorted me to become unbearable to you, Wakasama. It is difficult to simply let things go.”

Eventually he turned his back on his charge in anguish and scraped the minutest control he had left to walk away.

Saburo watched him go and resisted the impulse to call to him. His hand fell limply at his side then closing into a fist, he tried to suppress the miserable guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.

Before vanishing once again to the shadows and straining heavily against his bestial instincts Kotarou paused, “When I have regained myself completely… I will come for you, Saburo.”

“Kotarou,” Saburo whispered to the darkness but its incarnation had all but gone. The lonely remnant of their exchange lay forgotten between thick tree roots. Picking it up, he stashed the weapon inside his sleeve.

…

Fumbling past tall wild grass, Saburo’s listlessness disappeared. He did not expect to make it out of the murky forest. His hands and feet trembled; what he was feeling must be dread, he thought. The unexpected meeting with Kotarou among all else and the state he found his protector in left him dumbfounded. Kotarou’s presence was like a physical manifestation of the poison both coursing inside their bodies. He had become much uninhibited and… unstable. It must truly pain Kotarou not to be in full control of his faculties, Saburo realized.

Naoe had done this much damage to a man, a man who was not a mere protector but one (had he not admitted it?) who is important to him.

“A man’s selfishness… for you,” a memory of the man’s words as they fought and argued at the cabin of their ill-fated ship made guilt and confusion themselves war within the youth.

Naoe’s declaration of passion to him instilled great fear but not rage. If he does not want the man’s affection then should he not bristle in anger even for Kotarou’s sake?

When one deeply reminisces, had Kotarou not confined Naoe in the dungeon? Telltale scars that freshly littered Naoe’s body were themselves testament to what he had undergone in custody at the Hojo Stronghold. Yet Saburo could not recall ever seriously castigating Kotarou over Naoe’s hurts.

His confusion could never persuade him to ponder hard enough on what other atrocities he had let the pair of them get away with. So he dragged his stiff feet, making haste to follow the sound of water.

XxXMOBXxX

Saburo frowned at his reflection on the surface. He was briskly bathing in a stream that was waist-deep. In this way, he would get rid of dirt and the evidences of a struggle. There was little he could hide from Naoe and that was why he decided for this troublesome side trip. The small cuts on his cheek and hand could easily be mistaken for scrapes in the wild but the pinpoint wound on his neck was another matter entirely. It would have been less complicated if it stayed a mere wound but the discolored, bud-shaped bruise would make the man murderous in a blink.

He sighed, irritably rubbing it with his fingertips.

It was not until he heard a distant voice calling his false name that he snapped from his reverie. Quickly he waded out of the water and frantically looked around. Some sort of natural paste or dye he could use to cover his wounds…

“Tsune!” It was unmistakably Naoe’s voice, Saburo fidgeted.

He grabbed an herby looking plant whose stems were soft and snapped them open. White sap leaked out of them, which he sniffed daintily. Odorless and non-irritating upon contact to the skin… the youth crushed them with a wet stone to make an herb patch. Vigorously, he scrubbed it primarily on the cut on his neck and over the bruise.

…

Naoe happened upon a nude Saburo who wore his hair down. Water droplets glistened on Saburo's porcelain white skin as he leaned for his haori to dry off. Transfixed, Naoe could not move for a while drinking in the sight of the object of his desire.

Haruhie, who immediately took notice of the man’s ogling, thumped him at his side. “Naoe-san, Saburo-gimi would think us assailants if we do not make our presence known.” Despite the arrangements to trade hostages, Haruhie’s hostility to Naoe had significantly lessened. Though he was still reluctant to leave Saburo’s side and trust the man with the lordling’s virtue, they held other matters with mutual agreement.

Saburo looked their way before either could call to him however. He did not appear surprised but hastened to wrap himself with clothing. There was something particularly too guarded about Saburo’s movements that confounded Haruhie. Neither he nor Naoe had seen him naked for the first time. So why is the youth acting unnecessarily on edge?

With the youth looking a little sullen, Naoe’s interest was also piqued. “You have wandered off a little too far and made us worry.” He grasped his beloved’s cheek.

Saburo tried not to shy away from the man’s touch. His brooding mood was already giving off signs to gain unwanted attention. “I slipped and rolled down a slope and then I came by this stream.” He lied.

The man was quickly skeptical for he too could sense the invisible wall that the youth suddenly erected between them. Why could his beloved not rely on him? Could he not trust enough? Naoe knew this was a part of the youth’s stubbornness but sometimes he wished Saburo could confide in him if only a little. Truth be told if the youth was keen on building walls, Naoe would just have to keep breaking them. And sometimes he felt that Saburo himself wanted his defenses to be razed only to be true to himself. Naoe threw a sidelong glance at Haruhie… there was his restraint.

“I believe I have caused more delay. We should move forward.” Saburo declared as if the possibility of opposition had not entered his mind.

Adhering to better judgment, Naoe decided to let things go for now.

As three figures left the forest, a shadow’s eyes gleamed in amusement.

XxXMOBXxX

Emerging from the surreal woodland, the established village of fishing folk appeared on the other side. Behind the outlines of battered straw-roofed houses, the seashore stretched under the blue skies once again. People who were all dressed in shabby peasant clothing moved to and fro from their lodgings and the streets. Men who mostly seemed like fishers were scantily dressed with a tattered top garment vaguely resembling a short kosode and wore no hakama. They shamelessly walked about in their fundoshi and some were even barefoot. Immersed in their trade, they were hauling their catch from their boats and reinforcing or meticulously checking their nets for tears.

Naoe had wisely suggested to hide their hakama, socks and other conspicuous garments into a sack and had worn their zori like commoners so they would not stand out too much. Could there be lookouts mingling with the locals? Naoe could not be sure and therefore exercised caution and vigilance as they entered the outskirts. He knew Nagahide and the sohei would establish their camp elsewhere, preferably close to the hidden base by the cove where their ships could lay hidden. Were there sea caves in this island? Naoe could not recall and he owed it to being here only once and his months of solitude at Odawara.

Even at midday, the village kept bustling with activity despite the simplicity of their livelihood. Men who were not tending the boats were toiling on small fields, whose soil were part of the forest once. Rice was scarce in a fishing island such as Hatsushima and therefore people often came up with harsh methods to create cultivatable lands. At least most of the woodlands were preserved, Naoe noticed, and only a small portion was maintained to grow a substantial amount of rice.

Nevertheless, the village could not have survived on its own. The fiefdoms of several daimyo would value products of the sea as well and only the deepest waters could yield a variety of the largest and freshest fish. Hatsushima might have established trade with the closest port from the mainland.

Naoe, despite his drab clothing gained much notice due to his demeanor and stature. Young women, however few in number seemed drawn to him and threw him thinly veiled appreciative looks. Elder women did similarly but with more discretion.

Saburo who previously bounced in excitement and wonder for this strange land was taciturn and apathetic towards the different brand of attention thrown his way. Intense stares filled with awe and dark admiration followed his every step much to the irritation of some of the women who were jealous of his otherworldly beauty.

Haruhie walked closer to the oblivious Saburo and shot glares at those who had the beginnings of lecherous grins. Naoe would have done the same gesture if he had not felt an odd tingling sensation crawling at his nape. It was a feeling akin to being watched and with malice. It intriguingly felt too familiar and oh so foreign at the same time. Hastily, he surveyed the area, studied one face from another but he could not detect the source much less the presence of such burning animosity.

“Naoe-san, are we going to stand here all day or get some rations? We had run out since last night.” Haruhie interrupted his thoughts.

Naoe turned to him and seemed to notice for the first time that despite their efforts, they still managed to draw the eye of the locals. A few were blatantly circling them like they could not help their morbid fascination with such an odd group. “Pardon me,” He began sternly with a stiff face and with a voice commanding and cold, just shy of ire, “I am looking for a friend that is staying on this island. His hair has lightened from the sun; he is middling in stature and has a pockmarked face. Has anyone of you seen him?”

The effect of Naoe’s shift in temperament was great. Most of the people became intimidated and finally left them alone to return to their tasks. Others however were now more willing to cooperate. A man who appeared nearing his thirty summers opened his mouth to answer only to be cut off suddenly, “Perhaps our unexpected guests could be treated to a meal and a shade above their heads? Forgive this lot for our poor hospitality, which I am now amending.” Loudly said one who emerged from the biggest hut, a wooden cane in hand but still fit enough to walk.

An expressionless young man who, if Naoe guessed correctly was familiar with the fighting arts flanked the elder man. The bland face made his foreign features prominent. He seemed to have a bit of Chinese blood but Naoe could not be certain.

“No offense taken, Tono.” Naoe returned good-naturedly. For if, this man’s words could make the entire village shuffle and step gingerly around them then he must have authority.

“I am no lord but the eldest and most learned man of this village. I am Shinsuke. Please come in.” He humbly replied before addressing his aide, “Kuro, please guard their backs and shut the door behind you.”

As soon as the aide closed the door, he busied himself in the small kitchen and began cooking.

“Ah, my aide has little love for words. Kuro often conducts himself this way; please do not mistake it for rudeness.” Shinsuke said lightheartedly.

“You are acquainted with my friend, Shinsuke-dono?” Naoe pragmatic as ever skipped the pleasantries.

“You are eager for one not so young. How about a little introduction? It would not hurt to tell me your names. It would ease the conversation.” He told Naoe with a slight quirking of his lips.

Naoe sighed and conceded. After the brief exchange, Shinsuke graced them with a proper meal and once again asked for pardon for the behavior of his people. He began a question that niggled at the mind. “Did you experience heavy rains, two nights before?”

“That was no rain. It was a storm out of nowhere.” Haruhie said with a frown.

“I see.” The elder nodded. “But that was no ordinary storm. It is her wrath and she continues to rage for this island’s unrepentant people.” He discreetly eyed Tsune who sat closest to him and seemed intent in imitating the aide in his silence.

Naoe’s temple twinge in irritation. He did not come here to have idle chat or listen to some superstition or farfetched tale. The ominous feeling he encountered on the streets would barely fade and kept his nerves high- strung. “Shinsuke-dono, about my friend?”

“Nagahide and his fellow warriors are much welcome here. They drove those pestering sea pirates away since their arrival. My people are indebted to them so how could a single folk be ignorant of him?”

“Nagashiro-san, are you not intrigued by the way the villagers reacted toward us? It would be wise to know the reason so as to prevent unnecessary conflict.” Haruhie’s words though sensible could be an unconscious move to dally and for an instant Naoe wanted to invite themselves out of their host’s abode but then again practicality prevailed. What fool would try to turn against his only helper?

Shinsuke studied his audience. “There was a tale passed by tongue on this island. On the month of her death, there would be heavy rains as testament to the heavens’ weeping of her tragic fate. Cho as she was called and remembered was born from folk of hither. Though common-borne, she was said to have possessed ethereal beauty and grace that rivaled the princesses of the imperial court. Lovely and wise was she that all eligible men of Hatsushima were all in love with her. The women on the other hand were envious of her but could not help marvel either.

Because of this love, every man of the island wanted to win her hand but her heart was already owned. Her beloved who happened to be a great friend of her brother’s was also liked by all. Harkening the state of their love, Cho's aniue planned for the wedding with joy. The other suitors however were not pleased of this news; they suddenly hated Cho’s beloved, Shinsaku and fought amongst themselves, plunging Hatsushima into chaos. Saddened by the state of her homeland, Cho and Shinsaku had vowed to wed none but their sacrifice had not been enough. All the other young men save Ginsuke, Cho’s aniue wanted to have her as bride. The peaceful and happy lives of the people could not be as they were. Cho could only think of one other way…”

“She took her own life.” Naoe finished, face suddenly grim and complexion a little pale. He would not admit but the tale’s heroine bore a striking resemblance to his tengu’s allure that deeply disturbed him.

“Surprising, Nagashiro-san. I did not think you were interested enough to listen. She did but not by blade or hanging. She tied rope around her ankles and attached them to rocks. The sea swallowed her as she sank to its depths. She never returned. Her brother and her beloved who had known her fate through her letters had built a shrine in her honor. In the end, Cho’s tragedy urged the people to repent for their greed and lust. That was a long time ago but I see little has changed in Hatsushima.” Shinsuke gave one long meaningful look at Tsune who remained pensive.

Haruhie who acted as Saburo’s guardian the most part caught the riddle-laden gaze. “But as you said that happened a long time ago! What is the tale’s significance to the people’s…?” He trailed off, eyes widening in realization.

“Aside from the storm that passed by like whirlwind, the people were troubled to see one who exuded the very beauty depicted of Cho. If I am not mistaken, it is indeed the month of her death. I say it is by coincidence but the people being superstitious could believe that your young companion could be her incarnation.” The elder concluded, which Naoe rebuffed.

“I find it absurd. Could a simple long-forgotten tale enough to make your people hostile towards us?”

“Nagashiro-san,” Haruhie chastised. He was puzzled that Naoe behaved oddly. The man almost looked agitated, Haruhie observed. Mayhap it was the reception of the island’s locals or the delay of their supposed meeting with Yasuda Nagahide-dono that plagued Naoe.

“Indeed it is not.” Shinsuke patiently answered. “However last night, eyewitnesses claimed seeing a lady clad in a very beautiful kimono wandering the shores of Hatsushima and then in a rumble of thunder vanished into thin air.”

“They must be seeing and hearing things.” Naoe muttered. Only the lingering tendrils of the malice kept him distracted.

“No, Nagashiro-san. I personally examined them and the young men appeared sound of mind and hardly lied. For I…” Shinsuke suddenly snatched Saburo’s hand, thumb brushing against the cut before the youth could protest. “…am a practicing physician of this village as well. Young lad, this wound, the one covered by your hair, and the one on your neck are clean precise cuts from a short weapon. If you were attacked why do you not say so?”

Saburo gasped and practically jumped. He tugged his hand away but the elder man had unexpected strength and held on.

The guilt-ridden reflex seized Naoe’s full attention. He now towered over Saburo intent to inspect the wounds himself.

“Let me see.” Naoe said quietly.

“They are but mere scrapes. Let go!” Saburo yelled at Shinsuke.

The elder man conceded but gave a warning glance at Naoe who bent over and whispered something on the youth’s ear.

Saburo blanched but a faint flush dusted his cheeks afterwards. He soon headed for the door.

Naoe left their sack and followed the youth.

“They are intimate I can tell,” Shinsuke said to no one in particular but when Haruhie stood up, “Lad, they wanted privacy it is best not to interfere. Do not worry, Nagashiro-san would not leave so soon. Something in this place bothers him. They will be back once they have argued enough.” He added nonchalantly.

Haruhie noticed the sack, sat once again and huffed. Kuro wordlessly handed him tea, which he gratefully accepted.

…

“What is it that you are not telling? You were attacked?” Despite his anger, Naoe knelt down to grasp Saburo’s palm and rubbed the edge of slightly reddened skin.

The youth kept his head averted. “I did not even see who or what it was. I found myself assailed lightly and then abandoned.”

“Why would you not stop? Stop lying. Tell me!” The man hissed. Using thumb and forefinger, he grabbed the youth’s chin but Saburo shook him off.

“You’ll have to make me answer by force! There is no more to tell as I said!” The tiger’s glare bore straight at the man.

Naoe’s lip twitched but faced it head on. “I would not hurt you or break you.” He dropped his voice in a cajoling whisper. “But I know other ways to make you open your mouth. I might not get an answer but the noises you’ll make would satisfy me all the same.”

“Damn you.” The lordling cursed but flushed harder. Naoe’s words affected him too much. How could they bring such a response to his body like this? Saburo gritted his teeth.

“I will plant my lips on the vulnerable hollow of your throat, down towards your chest and of course to your most sensitive places. I will coax and tease the softness of your nipples with my tongue. I will suckle them inside my wet mouth until you could think no more. And then I shall get a bit of truth out of you.” The man’s eyes became half-lidded with desire as his hand fiddled with silken strands of raven hair.

“Stop,” Saburo uttered as if the prelude to intercourse were happening itself.

“Is the same exact word of denial you will gasp while I lick inside your navel and quiver at my touch. Though you forbid me, I will inhale the scent of your skin before I bite at the unruly hair of your down. No false protest from your lips could stop me from mouthing your sac while I truly seek your intimate hole.” Threading his fingers on waist-length hair, Naoe brought it to his lips.

“Nobutsuna, Stop. You said you would yield if I meant it.” The youth said shakily.

“Are you telling me to stop my words or my actions? Or do you say that you would rather give me your body than the truth?” Naoe’s voice rumbled enticingly. If Saburo were any woman or man, he would have succumbed.

He tried a smile, a nervous but exhilarated one as if he fought a grueling battle but victory was at hand. “You do not wish me naked before the eyes of others, do you?”

“I wish to see you naked now. If not with the truth then naked; to hell with the others.” Naoe returned with a darker smile.

“If you could prove the tale of Cho false only then…” Saburo did not finish he needed not.

“We are to spend a night here, surrounded by superstitious, peering men?” Naoe raised a brow.

“With you and Haruhie by my side I fear more for their lives. They are but defenseless common folk compared to sword masters like you.” The lordling dared not act too complacent. Naoe could still turn the tables on him. One look at his neck and Saburo would be finished.

Unimaginable relief washed over the youth as Naoe urged him back inside the hut.

…

That night Saburo could not drift off to slumber. Kotarou’s appearance and Hanaiin’s welfare afflicted his thoughts constantly. Did his protector come in pursuit of him alone or did the shadow have companions? Does his cousin remain safe within the hands of her captors? Will they make it in time when faced with too many obstacles? Was dallying further the wisest thing to do? He tried to keep his body still and his breathing even so as not to wake his companions.

Shinsuke, the village elder and physician was unsurprised for their choice to stay. He seemed convinced that Saburo was somehow related to the haunting of tragic Cho-san’s spirit. Naoe agreed only because it was more convenient to avoid further scrutiny (as subjects of superstition) if they were to depart early before dawn. The elder readily arranged their accommodation. Naoe, Haruhie, and Saburo were to sleep at the spare room with three weaved mats provided as beds. All three were rather grateful than sleeping under the stars and in the open for attack.

Their host was eccentric and none of them would so easily trust him but Shinsuke’s bearings seemed genuine. The physician risked the enmity of his people for sharing a meal with perfect strangers and for offering them shelter. If the outsiders had ill intention and decided to take advantage of such hospitality, their host had much to lose.

Only after his fifth yawn did Saburo hear a peculiar sound. At first, he thought it the soughing of the wind but as he listened intently, it became softer, a flowing soothing melody.

His eyes widened.

It was the sound of a flute in seamless tune.

As notes that are more magnificent spilled in the quiet of night, a ghostly quality of the flute’s fine playing emerged. Saburo froze. When the song surged forth, the youth suddenly found himself remembering a chilly quiet night under the light of a full moon. Sitting on a thick bough of a seaside tree, Saburo gazed at the starry sky while the song evoked overwhelming feelings of peace and gladness in his heart…

He was familiar with that beautiful melody, the cadence of that slow soothing music that made the soul sigh in contentment…

How could he not know?

The youth unthinkingly sat up and as if in a daze, silently left the house. Stepping shakily outside, a cool wind assaulted his poorly clothed frame. He breathed and slowly walked forth, following the source of the wonderful sound. Tears uncontrollably spilled from his eyes as the music and the rushing waves mingled in his ears. His bare feet made little imprints on the wet sand as he pursued with bird-like heartbeat.

As he listened to the song, a longing for home, for Odawara bloomed within his innermost self.

‘How?’

“…” Saburo’s mouth opened.

A white-clad back stood before him ceasing his steps.

Was this the player of the song?

The figure adorned in shimmering white layers of kimono encompassed all vision. Lustrous black hair cascaded like silk down the lower back.

“Cho-san…?” Enthralled, Saburo reached out one hand as if to close the distance between them. The figure appeared to sense his approach and moved away not sparing him a glance.

The figure drifted farther and farther away then the spell broke. Larger fingers enclosed around Saburo’s smaller ones. The youth was swiftly enveloped in familiar warmth when a strong body folded protectively around him.

“Naoe?” He did not see the white kimono fade like a mirage in the distance.

“I was calling for you, crying your name for some time now but you appeared not to hear! What has gotten into you?” The man asked him desperately.

“I…” Saburo was at a loss. A strange cloudiness messed up his senses. He was suddenly very drowsy and he blinked several times.

As soon as Naoe was about to gather Saburo up into his arms, the hairs of the man’s nape stood on end. A foreboding menace flared strongly arousing his survival instincts. Naoe once again looked wildly around but could not pinpoint the cause. “Let us go back.” Naoe briskly led them away.

Thin, indiscernible mist cleared and a long flexible blade swiped past.

A murmured curse,

His features smoothened as he recovered from his other failed venture. The figure clad in a midnight kimono instead watched the pair in the distance with unnatural light seeping into his feline-like eyes. The sea wind caught inside his sleeve and it billowed. Irritably, he yanked it down, hiding the false tattoo.

~TBC

Post A/N: YAY! We’re finally getting there! Please tell me what you think. Reviews are much welcome. After this chapter, my updates would be slower since I’ll travel a long way from home.
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400 Years Apart