9 is a sacred number. It is the number of elements, the number of hells, the worlds connected to Ygdrassil, the number of muses … so for my 900 follower celebration, you will choose your suitor and go through 3 trials to request a story. (Which is just a fancy way of saying, pick a guy and answer three questions xD).
I had a lot of fun crafting this and I hope to surprise you with what you choose. I never expected to get 9 follows much less 900. Your willingness to read, comment, fav, and reblog humble me. I am grateful for all the love in this fandom. I love you all too ❤️
Asks for the follower celebration are open until May 29th. See below the cut to make your choice and find all the gory details!
10 more days to get your follower celebration request in!
Today happens to be my 2 year tumblr-versary :D Did I plan it this way? No … I had no idea we’d be doing a 900 follower celebration but damn! You guys are awesome ^_^
Get your requests in! The celebration prompts are open for 10 more days or … 740 days after I started this blog!
A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 2-3 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 4 of a series.
Persistence was a trait Chevalier could admire, at least, when it wasn’t directed at him. When it was, that trait seemed far less admirable.
The Belle stood in front of his desk, lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line. Her hands gripped her skirts as if she thought the fabric a shield. “Prince Chevalier. I - I …”
He lets his lips slide into a frown, and placed his full attention on her. After the incident in the garden, he’d expected she would keep her distance. That had been part of Clavis’ gambit, he thought. Though he had more than one theory on Clavis’ end goals. Trust, he thought, but not too much. Regardless of his brother’s intent, here she was. Still watching him with her wide, innocent eyes. He felt something odd in his chest, a bit like a cough. A constriction of breath.
She ducked her head, swallowed nervously.
Chevalier’s gaze grew colder. “You’re a disruption to my work. Leave.”
“But …”
“Do you want me to lose my temper as I did yesterday? Then by all means, continue.” His words made her flinch.
The Belle wavered for a moment, clearly fighting herself. Her fear was obvious under the thin veneer of courtesy, as was this odd sense of duty she clung to. She slipped into a graceful curtsy. “Then … another time, Prince Chevalier.”
Chev watched her hurry away. He could not understand why she insisted on forcing herself into his presence again. His reputation alone kept most gentle folk away. And that was good, he reminded himself. A king had no time to waste on wilting violets.
He sat back down and reached for the report on Obsidianite border incursions. They were growing bolder, it seemed. That heralded a change. He picked up a bulging, leatherbound document carrier. Notes from spies and other sources.
It would be a long day, he thought. And he had yet to read up on the changes to the Jadeite court this past month. Somewhere, he had intelligence on Benitoite’s arrangements with Obsidian too. With all of this to consider, his mind should be firmly on his duties. Yet he couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted back to the Belle. Emma.
Why was she so persistent? Did she see some gain in this for herself? She didn’t strike him as a social climber or a schemer. Just a frightened young woman, thrust into a position she neither expected nor wanted. He wondered if she knew how much of a target she would become, should her duty become common knowledge. And even if no one suspected she was the Belle, there was risk. One did not become close to the royal family without gaining the notice of its enemies.
He did not see the Belle again that day, and eventually he was able to banish her from his thoughts as he considered weightier things.
The next day, Chevalier set off to meet with some of the nobles that had their lands on the borders. Most supported his aggressive stance. They understood the danger Obsidian posed. They suffered the losses from raids, lost loved ones, lived with the threat of more violence.
Clavis, Luke, and Nokto accompanied him to the meeting, though Nokto quickly disappeared with some lively widow. Luke grew bored and wandered off down another garden path. Probably for a nap.
Chevalier didn’t need his brothers to assist, but presenting a united front for his faction lent an image of strength. He could appreciate that.
The meeting didn’t take long. Enough time to learn the latest reports were accurate, so far as these men and women knew. Chev let Clavis handle the questioning, for the most part, as well as the courtesies. It seemed to set them at ease.
When the nobles finally took their leave, Chevalier let himself relax a fraction. He settled himself on the grass as he had when he was a boy. Laying back on the soft, springy turf. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. It helped him draw in the bits of information he had to create a full picture.
Clavis snorted, used to this behavior. “I’ll just walk a bit,” he called over to his brother. “Don’t get assassinated, hm?”
Chev didn’t waste time with a reply. In the warm afternoon sun, with the smell of flowers and the music of flowing water, he was able to submerge himself in his thoughts. The world faded and there was only the narrative - aggression, submission, resources, troops, allies, weapons - a tumult of thinly connected ideas. A girlish shriek pulled him out of his meditation. Then -
“Ahahaha! That was a perfect reaction!” Clavis’ laughter.
The rustle of a lady’s gown. “Clavis!”
“Relax! I was just checking to see that you’re doing alright. Yesterday it looked as if all the blood drained from your face, but as red as you look now, I’ve no need to worry!”
Chevalier’s frown deepened. What had his brother done just now?
The Belle cleared her throat. “So. You came here to pick on me then?”
“Oh no. I just had something to give to Chev.”
The second prince felt his eye twitch. What was Clavis up to now? And why did his brother feel it necessary to pull him into his games?
“Okay. But Prince Chevalier isn’t here.”
Chev realized then that she couldn’t see him from where she stood. He opened his eyes and turned his head. He could just make out her profile through the branches of a nearby rose bush. If he sat up, she’d be able to see him easily, but from here, he was hidden.
Clavis laughed again. “Oh ho, you haven’t noticed. My goodness! Well, this is a great opportunity. Why don’t you come along with me and have a chat with Chev too?”
“No! I mean, no thank you.”
“Awww what’s with that sour face? Does he really frighten you so much?”
Chevalier could see the way she flinched at his mention, and her look now was one of great reluctance. He supposed that was normal after watching him kill a man in cold blood. Such innocents could not bear the burden of their own defense. He realized as he watched her tense expression that he wished she hadn’t seen that. Before, she’d looked intimidated by him - but most people did - now, she was actually frightened. As if Chev were a true beast that could not be trusted around gentle folk.
Belle nodded agreement.
“My goodness! You are such a cute little rabbit.” Clavis reached out to touch a gloved thumb to her chin.
It bothered Chevalier to see his brother touch her. It was … inappropriate.
She pulled back from his touch. “What?”
“Oh yes,” Clavis’ smile widened. “You’re so awkward and adorable right now that it makes me want to pounce on you.”
The Belle’s fist clenched. “Even if I was a rabbit, rabbits still have teeth - ah!” She shrieked as Clavis grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest. She barely held him back with the palm of her hand.
Chevalier nearly sat up but he knew this was all theater for his benefit. Part of some scheme or running joke. He could not give his brother the satisfaction of a reaction, even anger.
Clavis took her chin between his fingers and tilted her face towards his. He examined her as one might an item at market. “Hm. Maybe there is some truth to what Chev said about you.”
“What are you talking about,” she asked breathlessly.
“No one is more a fool than one who freezes in every confrontation, as you are now.” Clavis shook his head and sighed. “At any rate, it would be out of the question for a noble beast to want to talk to a quivering rabbit like an equal.”
“I -” She swallowed, searching for what she ought to say.
Clavis let her go and she stumbled back from him. “You’ll never be a Belle if you act like this. At the most, you are just an insignificant little bunny to Chev right now. Is that what you want?”
Chevalier sighed. His brother wasn’t wrong, precisely, but it was a waste of time to explain it. The Belle was a fragile thing and he had no interest or need in breaking her. Let her have her month in the palace. When it ended, Chev would be king and she could return to wherever she came from. She didn’t need to do more than stay out of his way.
The Belle was quiet for a moment but her shoulders squared after a deep breath. “Of course not! I amthe Belle and I willdo my duty!”
“Then be bold. Be brash. Like the tamer of a wild animal! Do you understand?” Clavis clapped his hands gleefully. “Don’t fear the beast, Emma. Even the Bloody Tiger will become a pet cat if you can tame him.” Clavis’ gaze darted to where he knew his brother lay. “If you truly want to choose the next king, you must be prepared to venture into the beast’s lair. Are you prepared to tame the wild beast?”
It was so melodramatic that Chevalier almost snorted. A pile of complete -
“Yes! I’ll give it everything I have. I will make him accept me as Belle!”
Complete nonsense. Chevalier couldn’t help the way his lips curved into a small smile. She sounded so determined. He heard notes of steel in her voice and an undercurrent of excitement.
“Hear that, Chev?” Clavis cackled. “Belle is going to tame you.”
Chevalier pushed himself up onto a nearby bench, eyes narrowed at the pair. What kind of mad woman would claim she could tame him? “Don’t drag me into your ridiculous conversations.”
“Oh … oh no …” The Belle turned to look at him, her expression one of abject horror. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment now. She bit at her lower lip as if she might hold back more foolish pronouncements. As she met his gaze, a hint of defiance entered her expression. A determination that overtook her fear.
Chev felt a smile curl the edges of his lips. So she had some steel left in her afterall. “I don’t believe you have what it takes to tame a beast.”
At his challenge, her chin firmed and her shoulders drew back. She lifted her head a fraction as if to reply that she would prove him wrong.
Before she could say more, Chevalier stood. He forced the smile from his lips. He had wasted enough time already, he thought. Lying in the grass like a boy without a care in the world. Listening in on this, this ridiculous girl. He regarded her a moment longer before moving his attention to Clavis. “Summon the clown to the office later.”
His brother shrugged. “Sure. I can. But why don’t you speak with the Belle a little longer, since you’re both here?”
“I have no interest in this simpleton.” Chevalier wasn’t sure himself if he intended the insult as a challenge or if he truly wished to dismiss her. Both, perhaps. He disliked the sudden uncertainty he felt, a sensation he was not accustomed to. He adjusted his cloak and turned to leave before his brother could needle him again.
The Belle reached for him. “Wait!” Her fingers caught the edge of his cloak.
Chevalier responded to the tone of command in her voice, not because he must, but rather that it surprised him. Only moments ago, she’d been ready to flee the mention of him and now she thought to make demands. She was a strange girl, fascinating in her contradictions. He turned to face her. “What do you want?”
She let go of his cloak. Her hands smoothed her gown as she tilted her head to regard him. Then she gave a slight nod. “Yes. You’re right. When it comes to evaluating the future king, I may be out of my element right now. But I refuse to abandon this task just because some might think I’ll never be capable of fulfilling my role.”
The Belle paused, searching his face for something. Chevalier wasn’t sure what. Surely she knew better than to look to him for some confirmation or approval. He kept his lips pressed tight, resisting the urge to curl up at the corners.
“As the newly appointed Belle, I’d like to formally introduce myself -”
“Unnecessary.”
Her eyes widened slightly at his interruption. “What do you mean?”
Chevalier almost smiled again. “Instead of giving me your name, show me your worth. Show me why you deserve to have me listen to what you say.”
A hint of confusion clouded her brow.
“This is going nowhere.” He poked her just below the collarbone to emphasize the point. A gentle, physical reinforcement as he’d done with his brothers when they were younger. But touching her was different. The contact sent a slight prickling up his arm and down his back, though he showed no visible reaction. Soft to the touch, delicate. He could feel how fragile she was under even that light pressure. And how strong. A creature of spun silk and hidden steel. He pulled his hand back quickly.
“What was that for?”
“For wasting my time.” Chevalier turned and this time kept walking. He didn’t like leaving her alone with Clavis but staying was worse. His own thoughts were a bit disordered as he retreated. He couldn’t say why it pleased him that the Belle had not backed down. That she met his words with defiance and determination.
He didn’t realize as he walked back to the palace that he was smiling again.
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction. This scene is set well after the events of the romantic epilogue and features Mitsuhide and MC in a modern setting extended story. Approx. 2600 words.
Mitsuhide looked up at the tall building. It stood higher than the tenshu in Azuchi, higher than most of the buildings around it. There were guards at the door and cameras. An electronic entry key that could only be opened from scanning the hand. The edifice was mostly glass, but not like the glass he knew from the Sengoku. This was thick. Shatter-resistant, made to withstand the tanegashima of this era.
“We could run a car into it,” Daiki spoke up from beside him. “Bet they wouldn’t see that coming.”
Itsuko snorted. “And announce our presence to everyone in the building? We wouldn’t manage two floors before they shut us down. Buildings like this have lock and alarm protocols.”
Souta’s brows went up. “How would you know that?”
“My dad worked security on a place like this in Tokyo. Research firm. The whole place could shut down in 30 seconds if the right alarm sequence triggered.” Itsuko shrugged. “Didn’t do them a damn bit of good when pops smuggled data out on a thumb drive.”
“Thumb … drive?” Mitsuhide tried to imagine what that might be before he decided it didn’t matter. They weren’t trying to get information out. They needed to get themselves in.
“You sure this is our guy,” Daiki asked. “I mean, if it’s not, we are gonna go through a lot for nothing.”
“Please. Even if I was wrong, you wouldn’t mind doing some damage. But I’m not wrong.” Souta gave his friend a hard look. “I wouldn’t drag the boss out here if I had any doubt.”
“I’m not your boss,” Mitsuhide sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. There was always a weakness in any fortification. A drain, a smoke vent, a forgotten gate … he couldn’t imagine that was untrue here. They simply needed to find it.
“The boss is right. He’s not our boss. He’s our uh, daimyo? Something like that?” Daiki smiled widely.
Souta snorted. “Right. Anyway, I don’t think a frontal assault is the way to go.”
Mitsuhide nodded. “We need a quiet way in. Who would have access to this place?”
“The people who work there,” Itsuko said. “Probably a cleaning crew. The security detail. Repairmen. A place like this probably has something go wrong every week so, electricians, plumbers, IT. Skilled labor.”
“Daiki, you will look into the security company. Pretend to apply. Itsuko? I want you to research their skilled labor. Uniforms, badges … who are they and how are they recognized. And Souta, you will find out about the staff. Do you think you could get hired here? Legitimate entry is the easiest.” Mitsuhide gave the orders, plans already coming together in his mind. The arching branches of each possibility taking shape. But he needed more information.
“I could probably get in as IT support.” Souta shrugged. “I’ll poke around. Maybe I can make myself an intern.”
“Excellent. I expect -” Mitsuhide’s words cut off as he glimpsed a familiar form moving through the crowd at the crosswalk. Her hair was loose, her back bared between the ties of her shirt. Her hips hugged by taut denim.
She must have felt his eyes on her. The woman turned her head, just for a moment. But a glimpse of her face brought the kitsune warlord back to reality. Of course it wasn’t his little mouse. She was still in the hospital. Unconscious. And now that he really looked, this girl didn’t resemble her so much. A similar figure, perhaps, in a general way.
“Boss?” Daiki grimaced.
“I thought I saw someone.” Mitsuhide cleared his throat. “I expect you all to have more information for me by this time tomorrow.”
The three young men all nodded and then dispersed, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.
Mitsuhide’s gaze drifted to where the woman had been. He was not the kind of man to mistake one person for another. He could read body language like words on a page. He knew his little one in every way. Every dimple and freckle and beauty mark. The way she moved her arms when she walked. The set of her shoulders. That funny way she’d tilt her head when she saw something she liked. She had a thousand different expressions and he knew each one. Loved each one. She was precious. Unique.
He shook off the unease his mistake engendered. There was no time to reminisce or recriminate. He had work to be about. There was a man on the 35th floor of this building that needed to understand the cost of crossing an Akechi.
He straightened his tie and approached the entrance. “Akechi Jūbei,” he gave a nod to the security detail at the door. It was a name less infamous but still his own.
“You’re not on the list,” one of the men said after a pause.
“Yes. That’s correct. I didn’t want word of my interest to spread before I spoke with Mr. Tanaka.” He held out a business card with a single kanji on it. If Souta was wrong about this …
The security guard examined the card carefully then handed it back. “You may go up.”
The door clicked open and Mitsuhide entered. A blast of cold dry air met him, and then the beeping of a metal detector. A young, expressionless woman gave him a bow in greeting. “You will follow me.”
Mitsuhide nodded. “Please, do lead on. You’re so much nicer to look at than the gorillas out front.”
She glanced his direction, giving nothing away. Then she gestured for him to move forward.
He did, at his own pace, taking time to note the layout and security features of the lobby. It looked like any number of television serials he’d watched since coming here. All metal and glass and smooth edges. The sheen of blue screens. Muted music playing from hidden speakers. The smell of disinfectant.
There was a long desk in dark wood where two more women sat. They looked so similar to his guide that they might have been sisters, but Mitsuhide realized the impression was intentional. The basic features were not too far from each other. Similar eyes, hair styles, make up. But they could not disguise the differences in bone structure. The length of their noses, the height of their foreheads. What a strange thing to attempt though. Why?
Mitsuhide nodded toward the desk. “I didn’t realize you had sisters. How fortuitous to work in the same place together!”
She made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement.
Her ability to shut down every line of conversation was purely remarkable. But she’d never encountered someone like him. He could take information from bare stone. From wind-touched water. From dead men. He could get information from her.
“You must be quite skilled,” he said, as they moved further down the bland hallway. “You move with such grace and efficiency. A dancer perhaps? Or no … I see fire in you. Perhaps, martial arts?” Mitsuhide made as if to reach for her.
She moved swiftly, a slight step just far enough to put herself out of reach. “Please keep your hands to yourself.”
“Of course. My deepest apologies. It’s just, you have a hair on your blouse.”
She looked down, plucking it away with a twitch of her lips.
“Don’t worry,” he said conspiratorially, “I like dogs too.”
This, finally, brought a reaction. She smiled, an almost imperceptible curve to her lips. “Beni is a good boy but he sheds everywhere.”
A weakness in every fortress, he thought. “My Chimaki is the same. You can’t pet her without taking a coat of fur for yourself. But I would not trade her for anything.” He smiled brightly, his burnished golden eyes fixed on his target. “What is it you like best about dogs, miss …?”
“Call me Ana. And, I suppose I like their loyalty. They never question you, even when you are cross with them. They trust you. Not like people at all.”
Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, exactly that Miss Ana. Exactly that. I wish more people had that kind of trust.”
He encouraged her to prattle on about Beni, putting together an idea of where she must live based on what she told him about the dog. Ana took him to a dog park and a groomer nearby. She even showed him pictures, and he noted the landmarks and visible signs.
They entered an elevator and she flipped open a hidden console, trying to hide her gesture. Still, he caught it. Then she covered her movements with her body as she hit a sequence of keys to allow access to Tanaka’s office floor. Mitsushide paid attention to the position of her elbow, the twitch of muscle under the thin cloth of her shirt. He couldn’t say for sure what she touched, but it was top-top- bottom-mid-top. He thought he could puzzle it out with access to the entry pad.
“Maybe we can have a playdate for Beni and Chimaki,” he ventured.
She turned a sudden, cold gaze his direction. “I don’t mix work and pleasure.”
“Ah, of course not. My apologies for being so forward. I was caught up in thinking about my precious pup. She loves making new friends. But I should not be so careless.” He bowed to her.
“It’s … fine. We will forget you said it,” she told him after a moment. Then, “When we arrive at the office, you will remove your shoes. You will keep your head down. Do not speak to the employees at their desks. Do not interrupt their work. I will take you to the waiting room for unexpected guests. Sit there until you are called. Do you understand?”
She was all business again. The brief humanity he’d seen in her snuffed out by cold, corporate regulation.
Mitsuhide made his assent. He had no intention of stirring trouble today. He just needed to see the space and to build a better idea of his enemy. Just as Ana had her weakness, so must this Tanaka.
***
Sasuke felt nervous. Every new face that regarded him a moment longer than necessary was a potential enemy. He missed his ninja gear. His face mask. The anonymity he’d taken for granted as he crept over rooftops and along ceiling beams 500 years ago. Sitting here, in a hospital waiting room, felt intolerably vulnerable.
Yet he had no better option for guarding his friend. She was still unconscious, helpless against any attack. Mitsuhide and his acolytes were out looking for evidence and Miyake was with the chatelaine’s parents as they returned to work and home. That left just him. And while he might have crawled through a vent to watch from above, or hidden himself in the ceiling tiles, neither option was as practical as watching from a chair in the small lobby of the burn unit.
He stood and stretched, and walked to her window. The smoke-stained wedding gown was still draped over a stool inside. It was beautiful, even marred by the fire. Sasuke would have liked to see her in it. She deserved some happiness. All of it, really. She was the woman that saved his life. He owed her. But it was more than that too.
Sasuke took a breath. He wished he knew more about biological sciences. Anatomy. Physiology. Neurochemistry. Not that he regretted his choice to study astrophysics. That was what led him to the past. To Kenshin and Shingen, and his BFF Yukimura. But … his hand curled into a loose fist at his side.
What would they do if the wormhole came and she was still here, in her hospital bed? Comatose. They couldn’t even ask what she would want. Sasuke could not imagine that she would let Mitsuhide stay here, uncertain whether or not they could ever go back. But losing him would tear her apart.
That couldn’t be allowed to happen. Which meant just one thing. “You have to wake up,” he whispered.
A door clanged open behind him and the ninja startled. A doctor stood in the doorway. Or at least, a man in a white coat. He didn’t look like any doctor Sasuke saw before. He was blind in his left eye, the milky cataract gleamed in the fluorescent light, and scarred. A thin line ran from his cheek across his lip and chin, and one of his ears was ragged, missing the top half.
Sasuke pretended to look back into the treatment room, but kept the scarred doctor in his peripheral vision.
The doctor scanned the doors, and them walked straight to hers, pulling the tablet from its perch. He tapped a few times and nodded to himself. Then he looked up from it, his one eye focused on Sasuke.
“You family?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Are you the patient’s family?”
Sasuke shook his head. “No, I’m just a friend. But I’m keeping an eye on her until her parents can come back.”
His scar stretched and gleamed as the scarred doctor smiled. “Isn’t that nice of you. But only family is allowed in this waiting room. You’ll need to head down to the main lobby. You can wait there.”
“I can’t.” Sasuke was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy. “Her doctor indicated there was no reason she could not have guests or friends, as long as we don’t interfere with the nurses’ work.”
“Well. I’m her doctor now. And I decided for her safety, family only.” He gestured toward the door. “So please, don’t make a scene.”
The ninja’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware there was a change in her care. What was your name, Doctor?”
“You can call me Doctor Smith. And you wouldn’t have been told because, as I said, you aren’t family.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just take a moment at the nurse’s station, and if they confirm, I will do as you ask.” Sasuke took a step toward the hall.
Doctor ‘Smith’ moved to block him. “You can ask in the main lobby.”
“Or I can ask here.” Sasuke’s lips curved in a slight smile. “There’s no rule about that.”
The man’s hand came at him blindingly fast. A strike that would have clamped his carotid artery and left him knocked out in ten seconds or less.
But Sasuke was no ordinary research scientist. His Sengoku-trained reflexes had him blocking the strike. He stepped in close and jammed his elbow into the scarred man’s solar plexus.
That his should have sent him wheezing, but Smith barely made a sound. His knee came up and slammed into Sasuke’s thigh. His fist was moving for the ninja’s face a beat later.
Sasuke let his weight shift back to his other leg and smoothly ducked the punch. His fist took Smith in the kidney. It felt like hitting a rock.
The scarred doctor hissed and retreated, a hand going to his side. He glanced around, and then hurried out a side door. His retreating footsteps echoed down the hall.
It was hard not to chase after him. Sasuke didn’t like leaving a threat like Smith able to waltz back in whenever he liked. And he wanted to know why the scarred man was there. Murder? Kidnapping? Or something the ninja hadn’t considered.
He sent a quick text to Mitsuhide and Miyake, then he sidled into the chatelaine’s room.
She slept on, oblivious to the drama.
Sasuke sat in a chair beside the bed and reached for her hand. He squeezed it gently. “I may not be a legendary warlord, but I am your friend. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She didn’t stir at his words or his touch, but he liked to think some part of her heard him and understood.
Written for @scruffymctee based on an idea she had - a spicy Keiji in a secret rendezvous.. Hes on a mission destination unknown but naughty MC knew where he was and decided to appear ‘indiscreetly’ teasing him out of his hiding, 'punishing’ him by being away from her for so long.. Approx. 2300 words. SMUT!
Keiji grinned. The expression felt as fake to him as a courtesan’s blush, but the men at his table didn’t seem to notice. One slapped his back and slurred a compliment. At least, Keiji thought is was a compliment. Hard to tell, as drunk as the man was. He pretended he understood and clapped the man on his shoulder with jovial camaraderie.
Today marked nearly two months of infiltration into this band of ronin. They called themselves The Reaping Moon. Keiji suppressed a shiver as he recalled his initiation into the band. But the intel he’d gathered would make a difference. The merchant raids these men made their living from would stop. The townsfolk they harassed would get some peace. And Keiji could finally go home back to -
“Looks like ya have some deep thoughts.” The ronin’s leader Kizuato eyed him. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as his fellows. He led with a sharp wit, a careful eye, and a damn fast draw.
Keiji laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, yeah. Can’t get this girl out of my head. You know how it is.”
“One that got away? Or a lover?” Kizuato smacked the rear of the girl serving their sake.
“Little of both.”
“Huh. Well if we head back toward your home town one of these days, we might run across her. What do you say to that, Aka?”
Aka. Keiji hadn’t chosen his nickname with this bandit crew. The ronin chose it for him, because of his hair and clothes. He nodded. “Be great. If I get hold of her this time, I won’t let go.”
Kizuato laughed. The scar that bisected his lips and ruined his nose shone in the low light, drawn taut by his expression.
“Be right back.” Keiji stood and wandered toward the outdoor toilet. He didn’t want to talk about the chatelaine, even a pretend version of her. He missed her so much that it hurt. A physical ache in his chest that throbbed in time to his heartbeat. Her face haunted him every time he shut his eyes. Her voice followed him in dreams.
This mission had to end soon. Otherwise, he felt he would go crazy with missing her. He kept himself going with promises of what he’d do when he saw her again. Lift her off her feet. Kiss her a thousand times. Taste every bit of her skin. Hold her to him so he could feel her breath, her heartbeat. Make love all day. All week.
He sighed. She might as well be as distant as the heavy moon that hung full in the sky above him. When he came back inside, there was a group of traveling players filing in from the front entrance. Three men and two women, all dressed in colors more bright and chaotic than his own clothing. The women hid their faces behind fans, laughing and making eyes at the guests as they made their way to a screened area to sit. The men called out to advertise their show on the morrow and did cartwheels and handstands until they were out of sight.
Kizuato watched them with a speculative eye. “How much do you think a group like that brings in?”
“Enough to eat. Maybe enough for an inn sometimes,” Keiji replied with a grimace.
“Huh.” The scarred bandit leader downed his sake and kept staring.
Keiji nudged him. “You thinking about a career change, boss?”
Kizuato laughed. “Nah. You’d make a pretty dancing made though eh?” He grinned widely.
“Me? I could try but I don’t have the hips for it.”
The rest of the band guffawed, rude gestures and comments all around. Keiji laughed too.
“Those girls had nice hips though. A good sway to ‘em.” Kizuato eyed Keiji. “Why don’t you go ask ‘em to dance for us. You say it with that smile and they can’t say no.” His expression left no doubt about his reaction if they did say no. The bandits took what they wanted. Asking was only a bare courtesy.
Keiji stood reluctantly. He didn’t want to involve the players, but refusing could blow his cover. Get him beaten or killed, even if he wasn’t revealed. “Well, a man can ask, right?” He kept the bitter twist from his tone.
He went up to the edge of the screen and tapped it lightly. One of the men peeked past. “Oh! A fan, are you! Don’t worry little boy, I’ll be signing autographs tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Autographs. Tomorrow.” The man made his mark in the air. “So run along. Tonight is for grown-ups to celebrate.”
“Real funny. Look, my boss over there wants you to come dance for him. He’s not real patient and he doesn’t take rejection well. So how ‘bout you do a little performance rehearsal.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Huh. Let me think about it.” His head disappeared behind the screen and there was a muted whisper of conversation. Keiji tried to eavesdrop but there were too many noisy drunks to hear anything.
After a moment, the man poked his head out. “We have a condition.”
Keiji felt his brows rise. “Yeah?”
“You have to watch.”
For a moment, Keiji just stared at the man’s face. Was this for real? Where was the catch? What kind of condition was that?! Finally, he shrugged. “Sure.”
“Then we’ll be right over.”
Keiji returned to his table with a nod to the boss. He’d barely sat back down when two of the men came out, slapping a rhythm on their thighs. The women followed, fans still held in front of their faces. They walked to the rhythm, steps as light as petals in the wind.
The bandits howled their approval, and the other drunks as well.
The two dancers winked flirtatiously, pretending as if they might show their faces, but as they moved, they kept themselves covered. Their sleeves fluttered and their fans fluttered as they spun and stepped in an unusual dance. It was like nothing Keiji ever saw before.
There was no harvest dance, no festival, with motions like this. None he ever saw. The movements were raw and sensual, but with a delicacy to them. Kizuato and his men beat their hands in time against the table or clapped or stomped. There was no eye not on the girls.
The two of them began to weave in and out of the audience, grazing touches, dodging grabbing hands with a laugh and a slap of their fans. One of them danced close to Keiji. Close enough that he could smell her light scent, sweet and familiar.
His eyes went wide.
For a heartbeat, her fan flickered to the side, exposing a face he knew well. A face he loved.
She giggled before snapping her fan back into place and spinning away from him again.
“You like that one, eh Aka?” Kizuato noted his expression.
“Yeah I do. That’s the kinda girl you marry.”
His boss laughed. “You ready to settle down after one saucy wink?”
Keiji grinned. “You didn’t see the look she gave me. That one’s worth all the treasure in the world.”
Kizuato looked like he had a ready reply, but he never had the chance to say it. The doors at the front and back of the establishment were thrown open. Oda guards burst in, knocking heads as they came on. The bandit leader turned to flee, but he wasn’t fast enough.
The third performer, disguised as a drunk patron, knocked him out cold. Golden eyes winked at Keiji, obscured by a low-brimmed cap.
It took a little while to wrangle everyone, but soon enough the drunks were cleared out and the bandits arrested. When everything was mostly settled, Keiji went looking for the dancing girl. His dancing girl. He found her on an upstairs balcony, sitting on the narrow wooden rail.
“I was wondering if you would make it up here.” She tilted her head, her smile enigmatic, her eyes shadowed pools in the moonlight.
Keiji grinned. “I couldn’t keep my lady waiting.” He swept a ridiculously formal, low bow and then reached for her. He couldn’t wait to bury his face in her hair and feel her skin against him.
She smacked his hand with the hard edge of her fan.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“Taking liberties. You can’t just go reaching for a lady like that.” She shook her head.
Keiji pouted. “Liberties? Come on! We’ve slept together. I’ve seen you naked!”
“Months ago. By now, we’re practically strangers.”
“Strangers?” He raised his eyebrows, a hint of sharpness to his tone.
She nodded. “Oh yes. Months with not a word from you. I had to convince Mitsuhide to tell me what was going on. And then getting Nobunaga’s permission for this … without so much as a letter!”
Keiji ran a hand through his hair. “Aww come on! I was on a mission. A secret mission! I can’t just -”
“You’re telling me there was no point where you could have dropped a letter to me? Not even when you were sending back reports?”
Well. She had him there. He could have. It’s just … “I didn’t know what to write. That I miss you? Of course I miss you. That I love you? Saying it didn’t seem like enough. I just wanted to keep you here,” he touched his chest, “until I could have you in my arms again.”
Her breath was sharp, as if what he said surprised her. Then a smile slowly turned her lips up at the edges. She slid the fan along his jaw lightly, teasing. “I suppose we could renew our acquaintance.”
“Acquaintance?” Keiji snorted.
She smacked his cheek lightly. “Liberties again. That mouth will get you in trouble.”
“Lady, this mouth has gotten me in trouble. More than once.” He smirked. “Gotten me out of trouble too.”
His words brought a slight blush to her cheeks but she hid it well. “Then let’s see how well it works this time. Getting you out of instead of into … trouble.”
Keiji raised an eyebrow.
She extended her fingers to brush against his lips, like petals, soft as sin.
He kissed the tips of them one at a time, gently nipping and suckling at her skin. Keiji did not miss the breathy gasp nor the slight tremor that ran through her. He knew she’d missed him too.
His hungry kisses trailed across her palm and she dropped the fan. He pushed her sleeve up, out of his way. His lips caressed her wrist, the tender skin of her inner arm. Up - until he needed to push the sleeve down to reach the gentle slope of her shoulders.
There was no hiding her desire now. Each breath was punctuated with a soft, eager moan. Sounds that grew louder as he he reached her collarbone. Her throat. Keiji captured her lips and pulled her to him.
She tasted like wine, sharp and sweet. Intoxicating. Her sharp little teeth tugged at his lower lip. Her tongue slid along his, a battle to dominate the kiss, a playful back and forth. Her hands pushed aside his clothes. Nails drew little lines down his sides and back.
Keiji lifted her. She settled against him, legs wrapping around his hips. Her kimono had fallen open, though he couldn’t remember untying the artful knots. Her skin was hot against his. Her soft breasts crushed against his chest. Desire, sharp as a blade, pierced him.
This room had no futon, no reed mat. He didn’t care. All he needed was her. All he could see, feel, taste … and he wanted more. Keiji pressed her back against a wall, one hand fumbling at the tie on his pants.
She rolled her hips against him, taunting.
His pants fell to pool on the floor at his feet. He forgot them the moment they were out of his way. He wanted to be in her so badly it hurt. A fire in his heart, in his head, and his loins. Keiji’s hips rocked forward and up, intent on that one goal.
Laughing, panting, breathily, she arched just out of reach. Letting him graze the silken heat between her legs, no more than that.
Keiji groaned, a shudder running up his spine at even just this light touch.
She gave a triumphant smile, denying the slight strain of her own desire. A small price to pay to leave him in this desperate straight. Then with a serpentine motion, graceful as a dance, her hips met his, a sinuous, slow joining.
Agonizing pleasure shot through Keiji as he let her control the moment. Filling herself with him. Trembling in his arms. Then he could take no more of this teasing.
The thin walls of the inn afforded the lovers no privacy. The sounds of their pleasure brought a knowing smirk to the faces of the captured bandits and the guards that held them.
Not that Keiji cared. There would be time later for stained cheeks and dirty jokes. For now, he was lost in her. Months of pent up desire drove him to claim her with rough desperation. And she was no delicate flower. Her nails raked his back and her teeth left little bruises on his shoulders and neck. She reached her peak once, twice, again. Keiji wanted more. He wanted to bring her to that crest of bliss at least once for every day apart, he wanted … but his own pleasure was building. Shaking in his thighs, pulsing through his low belly. A rush like the incoming tide. A wave he could not hold back.
Keiji bit his lip to try to muffle the sound as he found release. Almost a sob, as intense euphoria tore through him. He slid to the floor, pulling her down atop him.
She laid her head on his chest, idly toying with his nipples as they both trembled from the aftershocks of their love. “Never leave me for so long again,” she whispered. “I can’t take it.”
“Me either,” he managed in reply. This beautiful, fiery, mad woman that was his own. She was part of him and it felt good and right to be here with her. He felt whole again. His arms tightened around her in a silent promise.
A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 1900 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 1-2 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 3 of a series.
Chevalier wanted this over with quickly. Such brash assassins deserved little enough of his time. That they could not see this obvious trap only made him more annoyed. He sprawled across a stone bench, sitting like he imagined Jin must sit in a common tavern. Legs stretched long, arms wide, wearing a smirk that said he had nothing to worry about. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
The crimson roses swayed in a light afternoon breeze. They scented the air with sweetness, and loose petals swirled in little ribbons of color before falling to the ground. The palace felt like a world away from this silent space. Only the sound of birdsong disturbed the quiet. Then it came.
Gravel crunching under heavy boots. The ring of metal on metal.
Chev’s smile went wide. His patience was thin and he had no more for these would be assassins. It was time for them to die.
“Brutal Beast! You’ll pay for your -”
His mouth still moved after Chevalier’s sword pierced his chest, but there was no sound. Chev kicked the assassin back and spun to the next threat. His strike caught a sneaking assassin in the ribs and sent him back into the tangle of rose bushes. Blood and flowers stained the grass in splashes of bright red.
A third assassin nearly caught Chev with a low swipe at his legs, but the second prince had been training for fights like this since he could walk. He leapt back and lashed out with a kick that caught the assassin in the thigh. Chevalier didn’t let up as his attacker fell. He slashed but the assassin parried.
Impatience blossomed in Chevalier. There were more important things for him to be doing in the wake of the King’s death. Amateur assassins be damned. The anger lent speed to his reflexes and it took only another lunge to pin the unfortunate attacker to the ground.
Chevalier examined his blood-drenched blade. No knicks, no cracks. He would need to clean it later. A tool had to be cared for properly to continue being useful. His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps on the garden path. One stride he recognized. The slouching, cheerful step of his brother and rival. The other …
He turned. The timid, dainty steps belonged to the Belle. She looked as if she were ready to run away. Every line of her posture told him she didn’t want to be there. But she gripped her skirts in white-knuckled fists and met his gaze with clear eyes. How interesting.
She began to curtesy. Her lips were pale and thin, twisted into a tense smile that looked more like a grimace. Then she stopped mid-motion. Her mouth opened. Closed again. She straightened awkwardly. Her eyes fixed on a part of his cloak.
Chevalier could see the thoughts as they crossed her mind reflected in her expression. First, confusion. Then worry. Then certainty. Followed by horror. Her head turned slightly, taking in the flowerbeds. The leaves were splashed with crimson stains, the blossoms crushed, roots torn from the soft earth.
The Belle’s eyes settled on one of the bodies. Her shoulders drew up and in a small voice she asked, “Prince Chevalier, what happened here?”
Clavis was laughing behind his hand. His eyes danced with merriment as they went from the Belle to his brother and back again.
Chevalier felt a tick of annoyance. Clavis was in his faction and should yield instead of playing these endless games. He glanced from his brother down to the dead man. “If you can’t tell with your own eyes then you are beyond foolish.”
Her gaze lifted from the dead to Chevalier’s sword. He still held it loosely in his offhand. A drop of blood glistened in the late afternoon light as it fell from the tip to water the grass below him. The Belle began to tremble. She looked like a fawn, too weak to run or fight. Too frightened to do more than watch with her wide, innocent eyes.
Clavis shook his head. “Ah, you’ve made a big show of it again, eh Chev?”
So that was it. Chev’s lips curved in a cruel smile. “Get this cleaned up, Clavis.”
“Awww, that’s no way to treat your little brother! But then again, some things never change.” He chuckled. His eyes never strayed far from the Belle, though he didn’t address her directly.
Chevalier was sure there was nothing he could say that would make a difference here. And no point to the effort. He gestured to the dead. “My clothes are stained because of this vermin.” He would need to waste even more time changing into something clean. Bloodstains tended to frighten soft nobles and palace servants - delay in either direction.
The Belle took a sharp breath. “H-how could you?!” She bit her lip and closed her eyes, breathing through her nose in slow, deep draughts.
She seemed … angry. Chevalier watched the play of emotions across her taut features. The fear subsided beneath a wash of outrage then she mastered herself. The anger faded to determination as she opened her eyes again.
“Wise choice.” Chev stepped close, his gaze focused beyond her as she gasped. There wasn’t time to explain and he didn’t want to waste breath on more. He grabbed the Belle’s arm and threw her aside, out of harm’s way.
The girl shrieked as she tumbled to the ground, limbs flailing. Had Chevalier not been preoccupied with the assassin behind her, it might have been amusing. Clavis seemed to think so, judging by his merry look. None of that mattered though. Only the sword gutting his assailant held weight in this moment.
A simple lunge and thrust, the tug of muscle and fat parting as he swept the cut up and then it was over.
With a final gasp, the assassin crumpled to the ground. A spray of fine, red mist spattered the three of them. Clavis took out a kerchief, dabbing at his face. The Belle reached for her cheek with a look of disbelief.
One would think she’d never seen a man die, Chevalier thought. But then, that was likely true. The Belle seemed a gentle sort. Much too soft and naive to face the noble beasts that made the palace their lair. Her trembling lips parted to speak, but he interrupted before she could begin. “The words you were about to speak would have been a grave error on your part.” His gaze set a new tremor through her.
A kind man might have offered her comfort. A good man might have told her it was all going to be alright. Chevalier was none of those things. If she was to be their Belle, she needed to understand that palace life was not all blossoms and no thorns. It was vicious and bloody and now she was caught up in it whether she liked it or not. Chev gestured at the bodies. “If you don’t wish to end up like these, I suggest you learn your place little fool.”
Clavis’ lips turned up in a small, triumphant smile.
Chevalier ignored him as he wiped his sword clean on a dead man’s clothes. “So. What business do you have with me?”
She looked as if she could not breathe. As if the mere pressure of his gaze pinned her to the ground. Her mouth opened and then closed again soundlessly.
Apparently, her bravery at the festival was an isolated moment. One instance of courage in a life of cowering. Perhaps she truly was a fool, only able to show backbone when she didn’t know the risks. The thought left him with an odd feeling of loss. He shook it off and frowned down at her. “If you have nothing to say, then leave. You’re in the way.”
The Belle gave a jerky nod of agreement and scrambled to her feet. Without another word to either prince, she bolted.
Chevalier watched her for a moment then turned his cold gaze onto his brother. “Clavis. Why did you bring her here?”
“Well given your anti-social tendencies, I’m very concerned about your future.” He grinned, his expression at odds with his pitying tone. “I thought engaging with some new people would do you good.”
Of course he wouldn’t give a serious answer. Chev’s eyes narrowed.
Clavis waved a hand at him. “Oh come on! Don’t give me that look. I’m only telling you the truth, hard as it is to hear.” He tapped his chin. “Of course, then again, I really thought the Belle would be able to handle seeing beastly deeds for herself …”
There would be more than one angle to this approach, Chevalier thought. Clavis’ machinations and pranks were never simple or straightforward. He was cursed with idealistic idiots and devious schemers for brothers, and damn them all for getting in his way at every turn. He turned his eyes toward the palace. “So in other words, you intended for the Belle to find me in this situation?”
His brother said nothing in reply, only watched him with his inscrutable golden eyes.
“You must have become very prescient indeed to predict this attack.”
Clavis laughed and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh no no no! Not at all! I couldn’t have anticipated such carnage! No - this was a complete accident. Really.”
“Lies.” Chevalier nudged the nearest dead man with his boot. “No matter how I look at this, it appears to be your doing.” He did not see any obvious signs of allegiance to any house, but there was something familiar about the man’s face. “Tell me, Clavis. Did you hire these yourself? Or did you have help from some disgruntled noble?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you could possibly mean.” His smile said otherwise. Taunting. Provoking.
Chevalier wasn’t sure what his brother wanted from this. Was it a serious attempt or was there some hidden objective Chev could not see the end goals from where he stood.
Clavis took his silence as an answer and laughed. “You know, you could try asking these fellows. They might be able to speak to you yet …”
Whatever Clavis suggested, Chevalier knew it would only lead him astray. He gave his head a definitive shake. “No. I don’t want to waste time on such trifles.” He swept his cloak over his shoulder and met his brother’s gaze. “If one day I find your behavior to be intolerable, it will be your blood staining this blade.” He slid his sword into the sheath with a little more force than necessary.
“Right. I’ll keep that in mind … for now at least.”
Chevalier gave him one last parting look of warning and then left. Clavis was a trial. If not for his usefulness … that threat he’d left with was not an idle one. And now there was an innocent party to consider.
The Belle. It irritated him that she could not see how she was being used. That she’d fallen right into Clavis’ plans. He wanted to ignore her plight, but there was something about her that drew him. Perhaps it was the books. Regardless, he would have to keep the Belle out of his brother’s manipulations.
Purely for practical reasons, he told himself. The Belle could not be compromised. That was all. What other reasons could the Brutal Beast have? The scent of blood and roses followed him through the palace, and the memory of wide, frightened eyes.
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction. This scene is set well after the events of the romantic epilogue and features Mitsuhide and MC in a modern setting extended story. Approx. 1600 words.
Mitsuhide knew patience was a virtue. He reminded himself of it as he paced the small room Souta, Daiki, and Itsuko shared. Daiki and Itsuko were out hunting a lead, so today it was just Souta. The youth sat in a folding chair, laptop open. It was the stolen computer from the cafe.
Souta was following the money. Tracing it up the chain of low-level criminals to whoever pulled the strings at the top. He already had several threads from the cafe to various police and bureaucrats, but there was more to uncover.
The inaction was driving Mitsuhide quite mad. He was used to having more work than time. He was used to being the man that could get any information himself. But when it mattered most - when his little one was hurt - he had no choice but to rely on others. All he could do was wait. And wait. And wait.
“You know that walking back and forth doesn’t help me trace these transactions any faster, right?” Souta looked up from the screen with a frown.
Mitsuhide gave him a narrow-eyed glare.
The youth shrugged it off. “Look, I get it. You got the itch, but there’s no one to hit.” He sighed. “Why don’t you visit your girl?”
“I -” Mitsuhide had considered it. But the doctors told him she could not see or hear or feel what was around her. And her parents might be there. He did not relish admitting to them his failure. That he could not protect his little one. That she was hurt because of him. “Yes. I will go.”
Souta gave a solemn nod.
The hospital looked just as it had the day Miyake led him here. A fortress of concrete and glass looming over the street. Every lit window was another tragedy, or perhaps a miracle, waiting to be realized. Doctors and nurses floated in and out of frame, ghosts in white bearing the burden of news to waiting lovers and mothers, to fathers and friends.
Mitsuhide took a deep breath and went in.
The chatelaine’s parents, Youko and Minoru sat in the waiting room, heads bent together in shared sorrow. Minoru looked smaller, somehow, as he held his wife’s hand. He stroked her knuckles with his thumb, tenderly, as if her hand was as fragile as spun glass. Youko’s eyes were swollen and red from tears, her cheeks sunken, lips pale.
When they noticed Mitsuhide, Youko stood. She studied his face, and then without a word, she hugged him.
He put his arms awkwardly around this woman that was the mother of his beloved. He held her and she held him. Mitsuhide had not expected such a gesture. At first he felt uncomfortable, but the longer they held to each other, the more a warmth crept into his chest. This, he realized, was family.
When Youko released him, Minoru stepped forward. For a heartbeat, Mitsuhide thought the man might also embrace him, but he didn’t. He grabbed Mitsuhide’s shoulder and leaned in close. “You are hunting the bastards that did this?”
Mitsuhide nodded.
“Good. Good.” There were tears in the corners of his eyes, which neither man acknowledged. “You make them pay for it. For my little girl.”
“I have already begun.” Mitsuhide gave Minoru a thin, sharp smile.
He nodded. “I - I want to help.”
“No.” Mitsuhide gave the hand on his shoulder a gentle pat before prying it away. “Your daughter would never forgive me.”
Minoru looked as if he might argue, but instead he sagged as if whatever kept him upright was collapsing.
Youko helped him back to his seat, leaving Mitsuhide to enter his little one’s room alone.
Mitsuhide pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of antiseptic, and the hiss and beep of medical equipment hit him, alien and threatening. And there in the midst of it, his beloved. She looked so small and fragile in the midst of those tubes and wires.
Her chest rose and fell, her heart beat on with steady cadence, and dreams flicked behind her closed eyelids.
Mitsuhide sat down beside her, overwhelmed. His hand sought hers beneath the edges of the white, clean linen. She was cool to the touch, her fingers slack in his grip. Still, he held her as a lifeline. “You promised you would stay by my side,” he whispered. Her face was still. “Little one …”
He bowed his head, resting it lightly against her shoulder. In his mind, he could see her smile at him. The tilt to her head as she looked up, lips parting to speak. What would she tell him now? What would she ask?
She would say, he thought, that vengeance wasn’t worth the blood on his hands. The cost to his soul. She would ask him why this was so important, to punish those responsible. She would want to leave it to the city guards of this world. And perhaps she would be right. Sasuke surely believed so. But he could no more let this go than he could stop breathing.
In a voice rough with suppressed emotion, he told her what they’d learned. How one man’s bruised ego led to this moment. And he told her what he planned. Something he had not shared with anyone yet. How he would orchestrate the fall of these bandit lords - no different really, from men in his time.
Then he fell silent. There was really only one thing left to say. The words hurt when he shaped them with his lips. Honesty that tore him open as surely as a blade. “Come back to me, little one. Please. Come back. I can’t … I can’t bewithout you.”
She did not move, nor make a sound. As still as the dead, save for the rise and fall of her chest.
Mitsuhide closed his eyes.
He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but sleep found him. For a few hours, his world dissolved to a peaceful darkness. A place he could, for a little while, set down his burdens and forget.
***
Kyubei stretched, his back stiff. His body felt as if he’d spent a lifetime hunched over the narrow table in front of him. There were several thin scrolls of cramped notes written in Sarutobi’s neat hand. Various foods in different states of decay. Small flasks with scrapings of brown, green, grey, and rust. Molds, all. Rot.
“So, uh, how’s the research going?” Keiji poked his head into the room, glancing at the table with wide eyes.
“As well as you might expect when all I have to go on is the premise that this sludge is medicinal.” He gestured to the flasks. “None of these look like the sample packet, I might add. So I wouldn’t go putting any into my mouth, if I were you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Keiji grinned. “So, no luck so far?”
“None. And I can’t test the packet because it’s all we’ve got to go on.” Kyubei sighed. “I’m beginning to think this is a fool’s errand.” He narrowed his eyes at the tall redhead. “Did your foray yield any result?”
Keiji shook his head. “Nah.” Then he pursed his lips. “Well. Maybe.”
“Out with it then,” Kyubei gestured sharply. “Otherwise I’m sending this back to your friend with an apology and best wishes to Shingen in the next world.”
“Hey! Don’t be such a grump, huh?” Keiji ruffled the short growth of hair atop Kyubei’s head. “Just so happens while I was drinking with one of our doctors, a brewer overheard my conversation.”
Kyubei rubbed the space between his eyebrows, smoothing the skin. “And?”
Keiji plopped down beside him and poked at one of the rotten fruits. “Hm, think this one’s safe to eat? All that talking left me hungry.”
“Maeda.”
“Oh fine.” His smile widened. “So the brewer took a little work to pry open but turns out they know a lot about useful mold.” He gestured to the packet, “Like, you could just plant the stuff in the packet and then have as much supply to test as you want.”
Kyubei blinked. “I can plant it?”
“Yeah. You just need some fruit or rice mash or something for it to grow on. Something sweet.” Keiji shrugged. “He said your stuff doesn’t sound like what he works with, but he bet it grows the same way.”
It was a risk, to toss away a few of the precious grains of grey-green powder, but if it worked, he would have enough supply to begin testing what properties it had. Kyubei weighed his options quickly. There wasn’t much to weigh. He was at near-standstill in his research and this was a possible solution.
He wondered what Mitsuhide would say about this. If this was the path Mitsuhide would take or no. Kyubei wasn’t sure. Mitsuhide was always looking at the long game. His wider goals. The end game that only he could see all the paths leading to … Kyubei missed him.
Keiji clapped the vassal on the shoulder. “You know what? Let’s go get some food together. Then when we get back, we can try planting that dust. See what happens. It’ll be fun.” He grinned.
“I don’t need you to comfort me, Maeda.” Kyubei pried the hand away.
“Maybe not. But I’m hungry and you owe me for all the legwork today.” Keiji’s grin fell away, leaving a tired grimace behind.
The expression was in complete opposition to the tireless good humor Maeda was known for. But Kyubei found the change refreshing. “Fine. I know just the place. The chatelaine favored it.”
“Great.” Keiji got to his feet and helped Kyubei up.
Neither man said anything as they left the workshop behind. Both were lost in their thoughts. Keiji’s tired expression did not change, and Kyubei wondering again where his lord might have gone and when, or if, he would ever come back.
9 is a sacred number. It is the number of elements, the number of hells, the worlds connected to Ygdrassil, the number of muses … so for my 900 follower celebration, you will choose your suitor and go through 3 trials to request a story. (Which is just a fancy way of saying, pick a guy and answer three questions xD).
I had a lot of fun crafting this and I hope to surprise you with what you choose. I never expected to get 9 follows much less 900. Your willingness to read, comment, fav, and reblog humble me. I am grateful for all the love in this fandom. I love you all too ❤️
Asks for the follower celebration are open until May 29th. See below the cut to make your choice and find all the gory details!
Choose your Suitor
Any from:
Ikemen Prince
Ikemen Sengoku
Ikemen Vampire
Ikemen Revolution
ObeyMe!
Nix Hydra: Arcana
Nix Hydra: Last Legacy
Choose your Element
Earth
Air
Fire
Water
Ether
Time
Space
Soul
Mind
Choose your Tree
Birch- creativity and rebirth
Rowan- travel and success
Ash- divination and knowledge
Alder- intuition and change
Willow- safety and nurturing
Hawthorn- protection and defense
Oak- strength and good fortune
Holly- transformation and offense
Hazel- wisdom and reunion
Choose your Muse
Calliope- muse of ecstatic harmony, poetry, and eloquence
Clio- muse of history, memory, and great deeds
Euterpe- muse of music, lyricism, and giver of delight
Thalia- muse of joy and verdancy, comedy and humor
Melpomene- muse of melody and tragedy
Terpischore- muse of the lyre and dancing
Erato - muse of beauty and eroticism
Polyhymnia- muse of the sacred, praise, and the divine
Urania- muse of universal love, teller of fortunes, and the heavens
***The gory details***
Multiple requests are allowed.
You can pick any suitor from the games listed but keep in mind, if the ENG route isn’t out, I’m not going to know their story so my version may be different than your vision.
This game is open until May 29th.
Stories will be posted in June (and maybe July if there are a lot of request).
Story lengths vary but usually land between 1K and 3K words.
Asks received before the follower event or during the event that are not celebration related won’t be written or posted until the follower event ends - so if you have a pending Ask, it may take a little longer to get to.
Series stories for Chevalier and Mitsuhide will be delayed during June while I post celebration fics.
If you have a question I didn’t cover, ask! I promise I don’t bite (often).
I made a merch page dedicated to SLBP on Facebook ~ Welcome to visit to follow the page! I just uploaded a bunch of goodies there hehe! If you don’t have Facebook you can message me to see who I have too! Thank you all~
A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 2-3 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 4 of a series.
Persistence was a trait Chevalier could admire, at least, when it wasn’t directed at him. When it was, that trait seemed far less admirable.
The Belle stood in front of his desk, lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line. Her hands gripped her skirts as if she thought the fabric a shield. “Prince Chevalier. I - I …”
He lets his lips slide into a frown, and placed his full attention on her. After the incident in the garden, he’d expected she would keep her distance. That had been part of Clavis’ gambit, he thought. Though he had more than one theory on Clavis’ end goals. Trust, he thought, but not too much. Regardless of his brother’s intent, here she was. Still watching him with her wide, innocent eyes. He felt something odd in his chest, a bit like a cough. A constriction of breath.
