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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
- 7
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Chapter Eight:

Three Parts Triangle: Part 1.5

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

Yikes! Sharp-witted Sadie found them guilty… What to do?... *is flustered

By the way I recently discovered a badass J-rock band by your name, Sadie! Thanks.

***

Staring blankly up the dim ceiling, Saburo ignores the sting finally making itself known from the wound on his neck. He resists the urge to touch the violent mark left by his protector. Who would have thought that the unfeeling stone of a man had emotions after all?

After an incalculable moment of deafening silence, light footfalls alert him of a presence by his door. “Excuse me, Saburo-sama are you in there?” The voice of a young woman that was neither Yuri’s nor Sayori’s passes through thin paper.

“Who is it?” He sits up and his hand clamps thoughtlessly to hide the bite mark.

“It is I, Hanaiin. May I come in? Dinner has been prepared, Saburo-sama. Your brothers and my father expect you to join us.” In his mind-addled state he fails to recognize his cousin.

Saburo was silent for a long time before he answers resignedly, “You may enter.” What inclined him to let her see him in this state? He didn’t know.

The shoji slides carefully and she walks in to find the room pitch black. “Saburo-sama? It’s dark in here, what happened to the lanterns?”

“The strong wind put them out earlier, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize, just tell me where they are and I’ll light them up for you.” Hanaiin calmly responds and he panics… Her movements tell him she was searching within the room by feel. “You don’t need to do that. I will just…”

The unexpected brightness stings his eyes making him squint. He catches the sight of her bent on the lanterns and blowing smoke from a matchstick. “No worries.” She smiles and elaborates, “I used to wake up at dawn and it was my task to find my way in the dark to rekindle the fire of all the lanterns in the temple.”

She laughs when he only gives her an ‘owl-look’. Hanaiin seems different up close. And right now she was getting too close for comfort, “Dear heavens! Is that blood?”

He feels two streaks of warm fluid trickle from his cupped palm down to his forearm. He has carelessly dropped his guard around her. “Saburo-sama, you’re bleeding!”

“This is nothing; please keep your voice down.” He shushes her. Hanaiin tugs at his tense wrist, instead. “Let me see if I can do something about it.” She produces a kerchief from her sleeve and persuades him to let go.

She gasps in horror when he finally does. Dried clotted blood dirties his right hand along with fresh runny droplets starting to dribble down the tatami. But that wasn’t the worst part. An ugly wound made of unrecognizable ring of deep punctures marred the lower curve of his neck. The injury screams like a wild animal has almost torn the flesh with its penetrating fangs.

Her mind started to race. No amount of her imagination could picture an untamed animal like a fox, or a hound perhaps that could enter the fourth floor of Odawara-jo, on a stormy day, and assault Saburo. And the more he avoids her gaze, the higher the odds become against the incident as something trivial and ordinary.

What kind of human could lean towards savage tendencies? Just as she was about to voice the question, his eyes liquefy and plead her not to. Her heart aches in understanding. How could she not when he was showing his vulnerable side, being unusually pliant to a cousin he barely knew.

Hanaiin wordlessly guides him to sit on the floor, rips the kerchief in two and the inner hem of her sleeve. She places the half gingerly but firmly on the wound to stop the sluggish bleeding— he grits his teeth, and she wraps a makeshift bandage around it using the strip of cloth. With the other piece she cleans his hand diligently and couldn’t help but marvel at his finely-boned fingers despite the blood stains.

“Thank you,” He whispers gratefully.

“Like I said: no worries,” She reassures him and steps away. As a child she was taught to care not for wounded men with honor any more than necessary. They will resent you for your efforts. But before she could fully turn her back his good hand catches on her sleeve.

Again he doesn’t meet her questioning gaze, merely holding on to the hem of her kimono. Her heart flutters. It was ridiculously similar to the way a child clings to the ends of his mother’s clothing. She would have found it adorable if tears weren’t falling one drop after another down his eyes.

“Please tell Ujiteru-ani, Ujimasa-ani, and your father, Genan-oji that I cannot accompany them for dinner.” It was difficult even for a woman with the heart of ice not to turn around and stay by his side.

“I will tell them the storm has made you ill. I’m certain they will understand if I bring supper to you instead.”

He releases her albeit reluctantly and mutely nods.

Though hunger was the last thing in his mind he couldn’t spurn her good will. It was his weakness to be nurtured after all.

XxXMOBXxX

Marking the streets of Sagami with his footsteps once again brings back memories. But if the land had recollections of *her* it would probably be nothing like what *she* is right now.

The almost restrictive obi and the precariously balanced geta made walking difficult especially for someone lacking the practice. Readjusting the light parasol against the sun’s rays, (the weather is capricious these days; it was either rain or shine) *she* continues *her* sight-seeing. With any given situation, *she* would do anything for *her* Nobuharu-sama²⁸.

The thirty-something *woman* with serpentine slanted eyes, gorgeous hair arranged in a complicated bun, wearing an amethyst elegant kimono made of fine silk easily slipped through the patrolling bushi obviously because of *her* good looks. What erring fool would think that a beautiful mature woman with the appearance of a wealthy merchant’s lady is capable of disrupting the peace of the Hojo Clan’s domain? She whips a paper fan off her sleeve to hide a foxy smile. Womanly paraphernalia however was not the only thing *she* carries.

Lady Sanji²⁹ was here to visit a pair of conniving men and a solitary yamabushi (that gets on her nerves) who is not even worth mentioning. She secretly hopes to bump with the former first than the latter. The occasional stares of appreciation from passersby make her want to sneer. What was a little makeup and dress up if only to befuddle the eyes of beholders? Could this day get any better?

Perhaps a fateful meeting would complete the experience.

XxXMOBXxX

Two days.

Two whole days have passed and he had neither seen nor sensed his protector’s presence. Perhaps he really was gone this time. He dared not ask his brothers of Kotarou’s whereabouts and had been avoiding them since the incident on that stormy eve.

No one but Hanaiin knew about the wound. She tends to it regularly and has not told a soul so far. Yet for how long, he wonders. Staying at the castle was out of the question.

As soon as the bushi headed out on patrols he snuck into the servants’ quarters and ‘borrowed’ some plain clothes. The fastest and easiest way en route the outskirts were the stone gardens. Earlier this morning, he heard that Ujiteru-ani and Ujimasa-ani had called for an assembly with only the family’s most trusted vassal clans involved. That meant the places of leisure would be vacated… hopefully.

Crouching behind the tall shoots of bamboo he makes one last survey of the area before darting off towards the outer walls when,

“Saburo-sama!”

He freezes in his tracks and turns to find her standing beside one of the sakura trees dressed in a kimono of the same design. “Where are you going?” Hanaiin asks as she walks over to him.

The camouflage effect typically made him overlook her in the process.

He had two choices. If he merely ignores her and leaves, she would certainly alert the joushi of his brothers. But if he persuades her to come with him and return before sundown, no one might miss them.

“The atmosphere here is stifling. I have decided to go out; do you want to come with?”

At first her expression turned incredulous. But his gentle smile makes her reconsider. Decisively, she takes his hand and agrees.

Spending time with him alone and in the town square was a far greater temptation. Why should she let this opportunity pass?

XxXMOBXxX

A bushi grunts as he was slammed on the ground by his fellows. “I swear on my life, my lords! I could never betray you!”

“Silence!” A joushi brutally kicks him in the back for his efforts.

The Sagami no kami holds his hand up for his major retainers to relent for now. “Could you explain why you were found creeping into Genan-oji’s room with a katana unsheathed?”

“I was doing my evening rounds and happened to observe his apprentice monks from Hakone privately converse with him then stealthily leave the castle at night. To anyone watching, it spawns nothing but suspicion!” The bushi under interrogation answers in rapid fire.

It gets the better of Ujiteru’s temperament, “Are you trying to accuse Genan-ojisama of conspiracy?”

Ujimasa watches the simmering exchange like an unperturbed lake. He doesn’t allow the tension and negativity in the crowded room to draw him in. Times were bound to get rough sooner or later. To have prolonged peace was unheard of.

He orders his most faithful retainers to keep the bushi on close watch and practically dismisses everyone except his family to the bewilderment of many.

“Aniue! Shan’t we question him more?” Ujiteru’s brittle temper probably stems from his displaced frustrations with a certain younger sibling who seems indifferent to them both recently.

“I believe the people within this room are enough.” He casts the Mutsu no kami a scolding look. “Genan-oji, clearly, your silence is making matters worse.”

The elderly monk sighs. “I always hated crowds, Ujimasa. But now that you have dispersed them you leave me no choice.”

“Do enlighten us, Ojisama.”

“The miai was a farce. I intend to use it as a cover up so that it would not appear to the enemy that my daughter and I have fled from Hakone. From time to time, my spies bring news of the temple’s state as to answer your faithful bushi’s doubts. It is the only way I could think of to delay the enemy’s progress if they perceive me, dumb. Plus as of this time, you have snakes hidden within the ranks of your vassals.”

Both lords of Odawara-jo were stunned by this revelation.

XxXMOBXxX

The powerful spin of the naginata earns amazed oh’s and fervent clapping from the audience. And they were just about to get started. The towering Musanaga no Unsui prepares his fiercest stance to strike his fellow entertainer, who was blindfolded, armed only with a wooden fan and was balancing 3 persimmons in his person. One was seated atop his head, another on his left hand, and the other was dangerously balanced on the thin blades of the fan itself.

As per usual women were the majority of their audience. It was not a secret to the troupe that the Unsui would always be the most popular among them. The one on blindfold, Jin, barely receives a warning when Musanaga started charging towards him with the thrusting weapon. The crowd thunders in mixed horror and delight when Jin evades to the side almost losing his balance. The persimmon ends up thrown in the air but he catches it with the blades of his fan as he spins on his heel to avoid another thrust. The crowd appreciates the stunt and applauds.

Undeterred, Musanaga pursues the blindfolded jester with a more skillful array of maneuvers. He starts using the naginata as a slashing weapon. Jin yelps in a comical cry of distress as the blade ever draws near to hurt him and his persimmons. He starts juggling the two fruits on one hand while he defends himself using the wooden fan, deflecting the utmost end of the pole every time it lands so the blade doesn’t reach him.

Jin knew he couldn’t keep this up for long, the Unsui wasn’t at his full strength yet. He didn’t disappoint when his taller fellow smirks then shifts his blade’s attentions to the persimmon on his head. Evading becomes more difficult, fighting for balance and agility to escape the increasing combination of thrusts and slashes.

The crowd held their breaths as the fan breaks with a terrible crack and the blade goes through, slicing the persimmon on Jin’s head. It swings again to claim the other two he had desperately been trying to protect. All three fruits perish by the Naginata’s precision.

Jin makes a run for it, to the merriment of the audience. He doesn’t get far though. One quick slash and his blindfold become pitiful strips, another step and the sharp tip of the blade threatens to behead him next. He unexpectedly grins and voices his surrender.

Both entertainers drop the fighters’ act and bows to the satisfied applause of the audience. While Jin takes the role of collector from their performance’s earnings, Musa sweeps the area with searching eyes. He smiles genuinely when he spots the familiar razor-sharp gaze and raven silken hair only this time he wasn’t alone…

A distinct, clack, clack, clack of a woman’s geta steals his attention before he can make eye contact with the current object of his interest.

A richly dressed woman in a red parasol approaches him to personally hand him a generous tip. “Impressive as always. Nobuharu²⁸-sama gives you his regards. How are things on your side, going?” She whispers almost seductively so only the two of them could hear.

Musanaga regards her warily like a venomous snake poised to strike yet accepts the heavy coin and thrusts it inside his sleeve. The crowd was thinning, if he gets caught long enough within this web, he will leave again.

“I do not answer to you.” He ignores the excited and curious murmurs of his fellow entertainers behind them. Both of them always have trouble in keeping their neutral expressions in place. One could only stomach the other for so long. Musanaga’s intolerance of her presence increases with his impatience to cut the meaningless banter.

“Oh?” She provocatively rests her hand on his chest. “My darling seems distracted. Have you an eye on someone else, besides me?” Lady Sanji cranes her neck around hoping to detect a possible intriguing candidate.

And lo…

The gods unexpectedly grant her wish. At first she thinks her eyes were playing tricks on her but a second critical look and it was definitely him.

The frail cub…

From seven years ago…

All grown…

Into a beautiful young tiger.

“Unhand me, wakashu³⁰.” Musanaga snarls, his deadly gaze skewers her alone. But she barely pays his anger any heed.

“Is it him? Is that peasant the new object of your passions?” Joyous laughter muffled by the paper fan disguises the ever burning contempt poorly. He is mine! That boy should have been mine seven years ago!

In fact she would trample anyone who would dare get in the way again. If she was able to do it seven years back, she would gladly do it again. A foolish woman dying of her poison was never meant to be the last victim. “Let me give you one helpful advice, Nobutsuna. He is not what he seems. He is a poisonous flower, one whiff of its fragrance and the next thing you knew is nothing but addiction. Almost every man or woman that falls for that addiction dies.”

Uncaring should she reveal his identity to the sentries of Sagami he turns his back on her and meets Jin’s worried and reproving gaze. Nobutsuna, don’t. His friend and only true comrade communicates silently.

Musanaga just shrugs it off.

“I look forward to a more explosive evening performance.” Lady Sanji²⁹ gives one last condescending look over her shoulder and walks away. Seeing him again set the pace for her next conspiratorial venture.

Just as he thought she was done, she unfortunately isn’t anything but. Musanaga seethes as she approaches his beautiful tengu.

“My, what an odd pair.”

Saburo instantly shields Hanaiin behind him as a perceived threat casually disrupts them. “What do you want?”

Those eyes never lose their intensity and allure as well as their ability to make her giddy enough to kill…

“You may have come here to stave boredom but one entertainer solely performs just for you.” The woman in aristocratic clothing said mysteriously to the doubtful youth. Not waiting for his reply she leaves with a somewhat lasting expression on him.

Where had he seen her before? The stifling air of mixed dread and wariness as she lingered close to him caused a stirring in his memories. After struggling to remember, his mind finally conjures a blank. Perhaps there was a mistake somewhere. Still her sudden appearance produced such unease in his gut that wouldn’t dissipate. Was this how a bad omen feels like?

Another set of footsteps made him look up to a less threatening sight. “So Tsune-sama decided to come after all and with his sweetheart, no less.”

The girl immediately blushes at his offhand remark. His tengu however wasn’t very amused. “She’s my cousin, don’t embarrass her!” Saburo had painstakingly briefed Hanaiin that outside Odawara-jo he exists in a variety of aliases and personas meant to mesh with the locals hence his drab clothing.

“I apologize. I tend to call every pretty girl I see, a sweetheart.” Musanaga delights in his ability to get on the youth’s nerves. He hopes they weren’t the only thing he could excite. Lady Sanji’s words of warning didn’t affect him at all. Yet traces of something in his tengu nags at him in an entirely unpleasant way. The wolf he was so keen on provoking (like a rival lover) was notably absent… or was his presence just hidden better? The dangerous gaze that follows him everywhere with this boy was supposedly a constant. In its questionable absence pervades the tangy scent of blood.

His tengu was injured.

The girl’s innocent gaze follows the considerable lowering of his’ to that bandaged neck. Could it be? Could she possibly know the answers?

TBC~

28 – Minamoto no Harunobu is Takeda Shingen’s true name in the Kamakura records. Shingen could also be read as Nobuharu, the inverse of the aforementioned name.

29 – The impersonator of Takeda Shingen’s wife tampers her name and uses it as his (Number 22 of our notes list--- see chapter six) own.

30 – The receiver or the uke of a Wakashudo or Shudo relationship. In history there is only one noted beloved of Takeda Shingen.

Post A/N: Feel free to grace me with your honest opinions and constructive criticisms. This chapter has so much going on and was difficult to write.
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400 Years Apart