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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
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Chapter Seven:

Three Parts Triangle: Part 1

A/N: >>Year 1569 of our time slip. Some notable series of events will happen…

Hojo Genan was thunderstruck.

In all his life he was never a man to have a loss for words in any given situation. His nephew, the current Sagami no kami had bested him on a duel of wits. He didn’t even know if he was more proud or more horrified of how monstrously clever he was brought up. Ujimasa blocked and deflected every possible way he managed to push through with his proposal.

At this point he should wisely choose to dampen his hopes and accept defeat. But it wasn’t over yet. Saburo was not the only reason of his visit.

“I see.” Genan exhales finally with a closed expression. “It’s not the right time for another marriage, is it? Nevertheless I opt to accept your generosity, Ujimasa. I will stay here for a few days while I contemplate my daughter’s welfare. She really isn’t fit to be in a temple anymore.”

This final statement niggled on Saburo’s mind but he was more embroiled in his personal dilemmas to pay more attention to it. Ever since the Clan Head’s declaration, he steals glances from Kotarou who remained impassive, taciturn, unmoving from his place beside him.

“This is your home too, Ojisama²⁴. I apologize if I cannot be a better host for this miai.”

“I understand. It is I who imposed on you and presented ourselves with very little warning hence the poor arrangement. For that I apologize as well.”

Both highly influential men within the family put aside their differences with practiced ease. Their once loud voices have considerably lowered enough to permeate the pitter patter of rain on the background. Almost everyone follow their lead and settle themselves for tea.

Watching his eldest brother and uncle exchange pleasantries and particularly with less substance every passing moment, Saburo’s agitation grew. This farce of a tea ceremony should end. After getting barely a reaction from his protector Saburo shifts his unsettled attentions toward his other elder brother.

Reading his youngest brother’s distress signal without fail, Ujiteru sighs and pats the empty spot next to him. Despite the disapproving stares of the joushi and other distant relatives, Saburo gratefully accepts.

He visibly relaxes again when his favorite aniue, the current Mutsu no kami starts doting on him in front of the others. Ujiteru indulgently pours tea for him in his bowl to the appalled faces of the servants.

Kotarou observes the two brothers talk in whispers and laugh in subdued tones like they were locked away into their own world. On the other hand he studies the Clan Head’s nonverbal cues along with this development. To anyone, even with trained eyes, the Sagami no kami’s mood and temperament appears the same. But to someone who knew him more than his wife, his grave displeasure was transparent.

The Young Master is truly naïve…

“Ojisama²⁴, it’s been wonderful to talk about old times. But you must be tired after your long journey. Katsuhide, please escort Genan-oji to his room.” Ujimasa doesn’t leave any room for argument and figuratively declares the end of the tea ceremony.

“Of course, Ujimasa-sama.” The young member of the Clan Head’s elite retainers obeys him without question.

“Sayori, you and one of your assistants should attend to Hanaiin-hime’s needs.” The head of the ladies-in-waiting silently complies as well.

“Sending an old man to bed early, aren’t we? Ujimasa, I still consider my daughter’s betrothal to Saburo open for discussion.” Genan drops one last pebble in the pond before allowing himself to be escorted out along with his daughter. The docile princess flushes when her eyes unwittingly meet with Saburo’s. He fails to hide behind Ujiteru-ani’s shadow this time.

Ujimasa barely spares them all a glance as the crowd around him disperses.

With fewer people within the room Saburo’s mental anguish returns and he stands up to approach him, “Aniue…”

“Kotarou,” Ujimasa doesn’t address him.

“My lord.”

“Escort my brother, Ujiteru out. Stand guard and tell my subjects I wish not to be disturbed.” The Sagami no kami displays his authority once more.

“Ujimasa-ani, I desire to remain.” The Mutsu no kami was quick to argue.

“Saburo, you’re old enough not to have a sitter who coddles you every time you find yourself in the wrong foot.” And when he does acknowledge him, it bounces back on someone else in harsh projectiles. He didn’t expect his Ujiteru-ani to receive the rebound damage this time.

“Aniue, leave Ujiteru-ani out of this.” It was just more than Saburo could take. He was always against it when others shielded him from Ujimasa-ani’s hate.

Yes it was hate, the daggers in those eyes couldn’t be anything else when they pin him in place. “You dare talk back to me, boy?”

Saburo bites his lip. This was a first in a while where his eldest brother sees him completely, speaks to him directly, and it makes him feel less like the stranger he was accustomed to.

The rain beats on the roofs harder; flashes of lightning briefly illuminate a now invisible garden and roaring thunder strives to compete with the heart thumping madly against a boy’s aching chest. No word or thought of defense forms in his mind. It was now a plain, drab shade of dull grey like the skies.

“Ujimasa-ani you’re making it harder for me to leave him if you speak that way.” Ujiteru chides them both. Protective hands clasp Saburo’s shoulders, comfortingly. It wasn’t prudent to get in the way of two colliding rocks and be a rock yourself. In this situation he had to flow freely like water in between to pacify them.

“Aniue, let’s have a shogi match after. I’ll wait for you in my chambers.” The second overlord of the Hojo falls in step with Kotarou who opens the shoji for him.

“Ujiteru,”

Gentle eyes and calm in manner, an averagely-tall man with slightly feminine lips pauses by the doorway to wait for the Clan Head’s response.

“About what I called you earlier…”

“It’s true, Aniue, I do act like Saburo’s coddler. But if he drinks one more cup of sake behind my back, he’d better come running to you instead of me.” Ujiteru narrowed his eyes for emphasis before allowing the shinobi to shut the door behind them.

They get as far as the adjacent corridor before, “Kotarou.”

The shinobi knew he had it coming. Taking his young master’s words seriously earlier, he was certain to have confrontations sooner or later. “You need not accompany me.”

“I am still pleased to be of assistance.” The Fuma Clan Head bows to him as he was dismissed or so he thought.

“Saburo’s flute was taken by you, correct?” He could not detect an aura of hostility emanating from this query but Kotarou couldn’t be sure. Hojo Ujiteru was not as predictable as he seems.

“Yes, my lord.” His nerves had been severed by rigorous training years ago.

“That was inevitable. Watch over my brother more for me. It is never unheard of that outsiders might take a curious obsession of his looks alone.” Ujiteru’s words were meaningful in an entirely different way that translates: danger. The Mutsu no kami was always vigilant and on edge when travellers from other regions enter Sagami. Most were up to no good and spies from other daimyo should always be considered. Six days earlier, a troupe of entertainers (harmless at first glance) had gotten themselves familiar with the locals. It might not mean anything but his lord’s reaction was typically how a territorial beast guards over its domain.

“I will not hesitate to kill if need be for the Young Master.”

“As expected from my otouto’s²⁵, ani-bun²⁶.” Ujiteru teased with a small chuckle.

The shinobi’s veneer of aloofness almost cracked. His second overlord’s good-natured character sometimes tugs at his non-existent heartstrings. If someday he learned to laugh again, it would probably because of this man. For now, he refuses to be moved just yet. “Pardon me Ujiteru-sama, but if I were allowed to speak my opinion, I would say that I am merely a substitute. I am shinobi, and such traditions are not popular among us.”

The Mutsu no kami gave him one last side-long meaningful glance.

The question is, which among the two of you is Young Master’s real ani-bun?²⁷

XxXMOBXxX

Being alone with him for some time was starting to have its profound effect on Saburo. He kept his eyes on the floor and tried to stop himself from fidgeting in vain. A moment ago, his Ujimasa-ani requested him to sit across from him and had said nothing since. It was terrifying how a single man’s presence could neutralize the raging inferno of emotions consuming him alive previously.

“The partitions of this room are mere sheets of paper but I have specific orders to everyone in the castle to remain clear off this floor.” Ujimasa said after a long sip of tea.

Saburo understood this as a cue for him to speak but he had trouble of getting it together. “Aniue… I… I don’t want to be a part of any relationship before I come of age.” Expressing his dilemma in the most straightforward manner was a juvenile mistake.

At first, the Clan Head’s blank expression stayed in place as if he heard nothing. And then… those once indifferent eyes narrowed, Ujimasa-ani was suddenly looking angrily at him. He truly didn’t know where this man’s utter revulsion of him came from. “Unfortunately, boy, you have no say in the matter.” Barbed, cruel, unchallenged words were hurled at him. “Kotarou is an ideal protector. He is almost always by your side therefore I chose him as your elder partner for the old tradition. A shinobi and a daimyo’s son is a rare pair but it would actually do you favor to emulate the prodigy of the Fuma Clan.”

“But Aniue, I thought the tradition requires strong feelings of brotherhood with the persons involved. Kotarou and I can’t even begin to understand each other!” Saburo refuses to allow his fear to control him.

But his aniue’s next reaction stunned him. Ujimasa started… laughing. Boisterous was the sound, unrestrained, which contained no mirth.

The Clan Head rose, grabbed him by the neckline of his kimono, and thrust him up in the air. If Saburo was terrified before, he didn’t know what to name his fear now. His brothers were both tall making him the only one who inherited their mother’s delicate frame.

A stifling breath or two and he already hurt badly. He instinctively pries his brother’s hands to release him but he only manages to scratch him lightly. “A…ni…ue, yo…u’re… hur…ting me.” Saburo grits out while his feet dangle uselessly off the floor.

“Call him. Your protector, Saburo.” Ujimasa’s grip was unrelenting.

Why does it have to be this way? Hate… So much hate.

His brother hated him.

Tears were welling at the corners of his eyes. “Ko…ta…rou.”

“Kota…rou.”

His heart was about to die in anguish, “Kotarou!”

A whoosh of wind and then in a flash he could breathe easier. Kotarou held him securely in one arm while the other gripped a single kunai tinged with blood. His protector kept his eldest brother in check with a weapon ready to strike against further threat.

Drops of crimson stained the tatami. Hojo Ujimasa was bleeding.

A straight cut from the shinobi’s weapon caused him to relinquish his crushing grip on his youngest sibling. Everything happened in a blur but Saburo was safe now.

“Young Master, are you alright?”

Saburo immediately noticed the slight crease on the shinobi’s forehead, which was out of place. “Yes,” He whispered.

The kunai fell on the floor with a metallic thunk and then strong arms were embracing him tightly. Saburo was immediately surrounded by his protector’s scent.

“There, Saburo. There’s your answer.” His Ujimasa-ani said calmly attending to his wound with the usual air of detachment.

XxXMOBXxX

He completely lost control. Kotarou stands quietly behind his equally silent young master. After his decisive move his ensuing behavior was unpardonable. He had carelessly showed emotion, a display of weakness that stained his shinobi code of honor. This transgression was magnified by their enforced shudo relationship and his assault on the daimyo. He was punishable by death.

“Saburo-sama… I am not anymore worthy to be by your side.”

The stiff figure in a dishevelled blue kimono whirls around to witness his pitiful form. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Liquid pools of blazing fire gaze at him painfully.

“I have disgraced your honor by behaving inappropriately and in the presence of our daimyo, Ujimasa-sama, your eldest brother. I am so tainted of my shame I have nothing left to offer you, my lord but...” Kotarou starts to sit in the familiar posture that stops his heart: knees folded, eyes downcast, sliding the riband off his long black hair only to gather the silken tendrils on one side, exposing the vulnerable side of his neck where he could see strong pulsations of the carotid. “…my life.”

“A hasty exit, is it?” Saburo’s shoulders shake. In his soft, almost soundless, stuttering laughs Kotarou wonders about the depth of his young master’s displeasure. Had he fallen so low that his lordling considers his final act of preserving his honor as nothing more but a jest? Whereas performing the act alone had never crossed his mind for it would not lift his shame.

“Tell me my faithful guardian, tell me honestly what you felt when I was lying unconscious in your arms. When you knocked me down by your hand and saw the pulse fluttering on my neck, tell me the first thing that entered your mind.” Saburo paces slowly and stops directly in front of his protector.

Kotarou knew he was truly aiming for death when he confessed, “I wanted to take you, Saburo.”

No honorifics, no fake courtesy, no compassionate illusions, just raw intent was more than what he expected.

The resounding smack in the room preceded several sharp intakes of breath from one very enraged Saburo. “Vile cur,” He hissed almost spitting on Kotarou’s face. “I will not show you the mercy of death at all.”

“And so you shall not.” Wolf eyes peered at him sideways. The subservient, aloof guardian was gone and in its place was the assassin who dared raise his hand on the one he swore to protect. The lethal Kotarou lunges on him and pins him to the ground trapping both his wrists in a single grip.

The lanterns in the room cast long shadows on two figures with one lying on top of another. To a beholder, the arresting pose was a struggle for dominance. “All of you… All of you are the same.” Saburo murmurs a curse.

A free hand turns his head forcefully to the side to expose his pale white neck. Kotarou eyes the thumping pulse predatorily.

Saburo strains his neck to stare into the wolf’s eyes, the gold irises all swallowed by black. The flames flickered once and then were snuffed out plunging the room into utter darkness. His pulse quickens as anxiety blooms to the fore.

Something warm and moist licks tentatively on a vital point on his neck. He shivers in reaction and tries to move away. His current position doesn’t make him squirm an inch. Averse to his brother’s belief, Saburo was not naïve of what happens between alleged pairs of the old tradition. He knew that the aspect of physical intimacy was to be expected in shudo. But he just couldn’t bring himself to simply accept the ritual when the mere act of being held down evokes a feeling of deep revulsion and inexplicable dread.

Without warning, Kotarou bites him roughly on a sensitive spot rich with nerves only made to feel pleasure sending Saburo arching wildly off the floor with a gasp.

Blood seeps through the neckline of his clothing before he realized what his protector had done. They both reel in shock a heartbeat too late. The familiar weight of the shinobi abandons him in haste like he was against his previous bold actions.

Saburo remains dazed on the floor as he listens to his protector’s retreating footsteps until there were none.

“I fear for Young Master’s safety in my hands. Therefore I’ll disappear for a while.”

“Kotarou…” He whispers in the darkness but his second shadow has already left him.

TBC~

24 – Uncle (Formal and with high respect) *Not to be confused with ouji-sama (Prince)

25 – Younger brother

26 – The nenja (Kotarou, Saburo’s nenja, go ahead and laugh) or the seme in a wakashudo relationship.

27 – Kotarou completely contradicted his previous statement of him being a shinobi, etc., etc. and such things were not popular ‘among certain people’ (Especially if they are siblings, LOL!) anyway, you be the judge.
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400 Years Apart