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sugulicious · 2 years

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SENGOKU JIDAI the warring states period

sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader minor hanma shuji x fem!reader

summary: as the first daughter of the sano clan, you had always known your fate would be to be bargained off to some rival clan for territory or gold. you had accepted it–or you thought you had, at least, until the kanto region erupts into chaos and your brother transfers his own retainer, sanzu haruchiyo, to you instead.

genre: sengoku period historical au, forbidden love, smut, angst

warnings: fem!reader, violence, character death, betrayal, misogynistic + patriarchal themes

taglist form on masterlist

notes: to be clear, i will not be continuing this if it flops--i'm putting a lot of research and time into it and would rather devote it elsewhere if this doesn't gain traction.

masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ONE

“Manjiro-nii, Izana-nii! Why don’t you ever wait up for me?”

The air was warm against your face and you could feel your clothes sticking to your skin as you finally caught up to your two brothers, panting heavily as you desperately tried to catch your breath. From the top of the hill, you looked down at where Manjiro and Izana were sparring at its base, the sound of metal clashing ripping through the serenity of the midsummer day.

You watched as the two of them bounced back from each other, concentrated expressions easing as they simultaneously turned their heads to look at you. You crossed your arms over your chest as you glared down at them, watching Izana’s lavender eyes flicker in amusement as he sheathed his blade at his side and leaned back on his heels.

“Little one, I distinctly remember Chiyo-san mentioning your lessons in tea etiquette would last until nightfall today, something about falling behind,” Izana chided, looking up pointedly at the high noon sun, “Unless my eyes deceive me, I do believe that means you should be there now.”

You couldn’t stop the pout from forming at your lips even though you knew very well that if Chiyo-san were to see such an expression on your face, you would be dealt another slap to the back with her stick.

“Tea etiquette is boring,” you complained, and it was. You were sure that if you had to hear Chiyo-san badger on about each and every acceptable movement and gesture, the placement of utensils during different seasons and all of the different kinds of tea ceremonies for one more moment, you would lose your mind. “I would much rather be out here with you two.”

Manjiro scoffed loudly, “Well you can’t be,” Manjiro turned his head up, looking away from you, and you scowled at your twin, both of you ignoring the exasperated look that swept across Izana’s face, “Go back inside with Emma.”

Izana clicked his tongue sharply, “Manji-”

“You only don’t want me out here training with you because you remember what happened the last time,” you accused, and you knew you were right from the flush that spread across Manjiro’s cheeks. It had been nearly half a year since you knocked him down after sneaking out of etiquette classes and following them to this very same spot. Admittedly, you had fought dirty, but Manjiro was not a person who took defeat well and he refused to let you join them again.

“You threw dirt in my face,” Manjiro snapped, “If you’re going to fight like one of those despicable shinobi, then you shouldn’t be sparring with us anyway.”

“I do not fight like a shinobi!” you gasped, eyes wide as you drew back, “Don’t say that!”

“Manjiro,” Izana sighed, looking between the two of you, expression exasperated. Manjiro pressed his lips together and looked away, you glared. “Little one, you need to return to your etiquette lessons. You’re coming of age-”

“If you make me go back, I’ll tell Shinichiro-nii that you’re sparring with steel! Don’t think I didn’t hear him tell you specifically to only use training weapons!” you said loudly, hands fisted at your side.

The last thing you wanted was to be reminded that you were, in fact, getting to the age where you’d have to start taking all of your etiquette training seriously, where the council would start beginning discussions of marriage arrangements.

Nausea built. You pushed it away.

“Of course, you would do that, you snitch!” Manjiro said angrily, Izana let out a puff of breath, moving between the two of you as Manjiro took a step forward. “Move Izana! If she wants to train with us, I’ll spar with her.”

“No,” Izana’s voice was cold and sharp as he glared down at Manjiro, “Get ahold of yourself.”

The glare directed toward you by Manjiro nearly had your hair standing on end, fight or flight instincts rising sharply. His temper was getting worse, you realized, swallowing thickly as you remembered what had happened a few weeks ago when you and your siblings had gone into town, a cool chill swept over you.

Manjiro would never hurt you, you told yourself but you hated the doubt that crept through you, remembering the blood splattered across your face and staining your clothes as you held the limp form of a boy barely older than you, watching him wail and scream clutching at the bloody, broken left side of his body.

You watched as Manjiro’s tense shoulders slowly relaxed.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Can I at least watch?” you pleaded as a last-ditch effort not to be sent back to your lessons. Manjiro let out an irritated breath but Izana only sighed.

“Chiyo-san will know to come out here and look for you,” he warned and your eyebrows knitted together.

“She won’t even realize for another hour at least,” you said, “It wasn’t just me and Emma today in lessons, she brought in all the other girls from the extended parts of the clan.”

“And you don’t think that she’d pay even more attention to making sure you don’t slip away,” Izana clicked his tongue again and you shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

“Well-”

“Hime!” a familiar voice shouted from the direction of the estate and you jumped, Manjiro snickered, Izana chuckled.

“I told you, little one,” he murmured, and you turned just in time to see Chiyo-san’s short-form storming in your direction, expression twisted into one of frustration and irritation. You had half a mind to bolt in the opposite direction, knowing the older woman wouldn’t be able to catch up to you, but you decided against it--it would only bring you more trouble later.

“Hime, how many times must I ask you to remain in our lessons?” Chiyo-san demanded once she approached you on the top of the hill, “Do not make me go to Shinichiro-dono about this, he is busy enough trying to handle clan business after having been so suddenly thrust in as clan head.”

Guilt pooled in your gut and you shifted uncomfortably under Chiyo-san’s sharp gaze, both Manjiro and Izana’s laughter quieted down at the reminder of your father’s recent assassination.

“I apologize,” the words were bitter on your tongue. You hated apologizing. But Chiyo-san’s eyes softened and she let out a quiet breath.

“Sometimes I forget you are all still children,” she murmured to herself, so quietly you barely caught it, “Come, hime, we must return to your lessons. I will release you early tonight.”

You sent one last look of longing back toward your brothers before Chiyo-san motioned for you to follow her back into the estate. You desperately tried to force the pout that was building on your lips, hyper-aware of the thin stick held in Chiyo-san’s hand, dangling loosely at her side.

And you had thought you had succeeded in wiping it away until Chiyo-san stopped suddenly, right before the entrance to the main family estate.

Just as you were about to ask her why she stopped, she turned to you. Chiyo-san grabbed your chin harshly and you swallowed thickly as your eyes met her dark ones--but there was no anger, no hostility, only worry, “Hime,” she murmured, “‘the nail that sticks out gets hammered down,’ you must remember that.”

You frowned, confused and unsure of what she meant.

“But-”

“Come, hime,” Chiyo-san interrupted, gently urging you along through the doors of the house, “let us return to our lessons.”

Reluctantly, you followed, sparing one last glance back at the direction you had left your two brothers in, distantly hearing the clash of metal as they continued their spar until the door shut behind you.

---

‘The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.’

Your lips were tugged down as you watched Izana and Manjiro spar at the bottom of the hill, hands folded in front of you. Your eyes traced your twin’s movement, watching as he brought his blade down on Izana’s, watching as Izana grit his teeth, arms flexing as he blocked the intense blow. Sweat beaded at his forehead, his breath came out faster, heavier.

He was tiring.

“Manjiro is going to win again,” Shinichiro murmured from where he was standing next to you, dark eyes flicking back and forth as he watched Manjiro and Izana exchange another round of blows.

“Izana will never beat Manjiro so long as his lungs are weak,” you said quietly. “He has the technique but lacks the stamina.”

A loud clash, a blade gone flying. Frustration swept across Izana’s face as Manjiro placed his blade at his neck, signaling the end of the spar.

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” Shinichiro sighed deeply, “we’ve brought in the most renowned herbalists and physicians in the entire region and they’ve all given us the same answer.”

There’s nothing that can be done.

“Again,” Izana said sharply, moving away from Manjiro to pick up his blade. Manjiro shot a look up toward where you and Shinichiro were standing. Shinichiro nodded. Manjiro readied his blade again.

“It’s only going to upset him more when he loses again,” you noted, referring to Izana as you watched him block another heavy slash from Manjiro.

“He hasn’t been sleeping,” Shinichiro replied, “He’s been out at all times of the night training to try to build his stamina. I’m hoping this tires him out enough to get a good night’s rest.”

You sighed, watching as Izana’s jaw clenched as he let out a flurry of fast attacks against Manjiro--slower than his last batch; watching as anger flashed through his face when Manjiro blocked them with ease.

“You have to choose, nii-san,” you said so quietly that you weren’t even sure if Shinichiro heard you until you noticed the grimace that flew over his face, “These times are dangerous. Death is always a threat. The Shibas are growing bolder in the southeast, and the Teranos are just waiting for their opportunity in the northwest. We-”

“Neither of them will make any real attempt so long as we’re allied with the Akashis. They fear shinobi-”

“As they should,” your voice was sharper than you intended, you forced yourself to take a breath. Soften. “It’s dangerous to trust the shinobi, the other noble clans look at us and see fools.”

“When have we ever cared about what others thought?” Shinichiro asked, eyeing you from the corner of your eye.

You let out a breath, covering a scoff, “Appearances can cause and end wars, or deter them. Perhaps you should have spent more time in Chiyo-san’s lessons than frolicking with your shinobi friends.”

Shinichiro sent you a long look, a warning, “And what would you propose I do?” he asked, his sharp look fading into a more helpless one--changing the subject back to the issue of Manjiro and Izana. “No matter who I choose, everything will change and-”

“Nii-san, if you don’t choose and something happens to you, our family will be torn apart,” you forced yourself to keep your voice steady, ignoring the way your fingers shook as you reached your hand out to catch a spare petal falling through the air from one of the nearby cherry blossoms. “Izana-nii will never respect a decision made by the council, and we both know who the council will choose to be the next clan head if you’re unable to make the decision.”

Shinichiro let out a frustrated breath, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his hair before dropping his hand back to his side. The council was the only reason this was even an issue--they were the ones that refused to accept Izana as an actual member of the clan despite the fact that he had been raised with the main family his entire life, had been raised thinking that he was your blood.

You cringed at the reminder. It’s ill to curse the dead, you told yourself, but you couldn’t help the vile words rise to mind when you remembered how your father had destroyed any stability the clan might have had when revealing on his deathbed that Izana was not actually his son--instead, the son of one of his mistresses and another lover of hers that he had brought in--forcing Izana from the respected position of second-in-line after Shinichiro to the black sheep of the clan, reviled and looked down upon by the other clan members for his lineage, spearheaded by the council themselves.

Another clash, a grunt, your gaze flicked from Shinichiro back to the spar at the bottom of the hill, watching as Izana barely deflected a blow from Manjiro.

“There’s no telling he would accept the decision even if I’m the one that tells him,” Shinichiro said, teeth grit, “and if…”

You tuned him out, zeroing in on his words and what they meant. He would choose Manjiro. You frowned, anxiety briefly sweeping through you as you remembered that day years ago—the blood, the screams.

“You disagree,” it wasn’t a question, you looked back up at your eldest brother, noting the curious look on his face as he regarded you, “you think Izana should be clan head.”

You opened your mouth to speak. You paused.

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.

You bit your tongue and looked away.

“You can speak freely with me,” Shinichiro sighed.

You kept your mouth shut—perhaps, but not while others were around, your gaze flickered to the elders of your clan who were gathered to watch the spar several yards away. Shinichiro’s eyes followed yours, irritation swept across his face before it returned to a blank expression.

“They cause too much trouble,” he said, voice low. “make everything more difficult.”

You spared your older brother a short glance. It was true, the only one that despised the Sano council more than you was probably Izana himself. They were vicious old coots who were so stuck in the old ways that they refused to see the benefits of any other possible path, even if it could help the clan in the long run. And they were so, so unnecessarily cruel to Izana and your younger half-sister, Emma, whose mother was not only a foreigner, but a whore at that.

Your lips tugged down at the thought of your younger sister, eyes turning to the side toward where she was standing with a few other girls her age--some of your distant cousins, if you remember correctly--underneath the shade, giggling and watching your brothers spar.

Behind her, one of Manjiro’s retainers stood tall--Draken, the orphan from a nearby village that Manjiro had met and taken in when you all were young. Your eyes drifted around momentarily, looking for Manjiro’s second retainer but gave up quickly--Sanzu Haruchiyo was not found unless he wanted to be. You were sure you had only actually ever seen a glimpse of him once despite his years of service to Manjiro. Kakucho, Izana’s oldest friend and retainer, hovered at the edges of their spar, forehead creased in worry for his liege as he dodged another blow from Manjiro. Your thoughts turned to your own retainer briefly, wondering how he was faring but you shook your head--he would return soon.

“There’s nothing that can be done about it,” you murmured quietly, returning to the subject at him, “they have as much power and influence amongst the rest of the clan as you do, nii-san.”

And it was unfortunate, really, because Shinichiro was right, all they did was cause issues under the guise of doing what was best for the clan. But there was nothing the members of your clan valued more than tradition, acting against the council was tantamount to social suicide, even for a member of the main family like you or Manjiro, even for the clan head.

“They’re holding us back,” Shinichiro said, “they-”

“Shin,” your voice was sharp--too sharp, again--you took a deep breath, calming yourself. Next to you, Shinichiro’s tense shoulders relaxed, his jaw unclenched.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, even though you had said nothing more than his name, “this isn’t the place. But something is going to have to be done, one way or another. Things can’t go on like this.”

You eyed Shinichiro from the corner of your eye, lips parting to respond but paused when you heard a familiar voice sound from behind the two of you, “Sano-sama, hime.”

Your lips involuntarily tugged up as you turned to face your retainer, Haitani Rindou, taking in the bags underneath his droopy eyes as he dropped into a deep bow in front of you and Shinichiro, only rising when Shinichiro raised his hand to wave him off. Your eyes met his as he stood back up straight, giving you a small, tired smile.

He was exhausted.

Rindou was good at hiding how he felt--emotionally and physically--but you knew him better than that. He had been your retainer for over ten years now--since the Haitanis had waged and lost a minor war against the Bajis and sent their youngest to the Sanos as insurance that they wouldn’t try something again. Your father, while he had been living, treated Rindou as little more than a hostage, but Shinichiro treated him as a ward, entrusting him with your safety and making him your retainer, all but giving him a place in the main family, and through that, he became your closest friend.

“Rindou,” Shinichiro greeted amicably before turning his attention back toward you, “I’m going to go down the hill to speak to our brothers.”

Nodding once at Rindou, Shinichiro leaned in to press his lips against your forehead--a habit he had never quite grown out of since you were a child no matter how many times you told him that you weren’t eight anymore--before turning to walk down the hill toward Izana and Manjiro.

You turned your attention toward Haitani Rindou, instinctively reaching out to squeeze his wrist but your hand faltered, remembering where you were. Your hand dropped back to your side, gaze shifting to the side where two of the elders of your clan were talking quietly to one another, eyeing you and Rindou suspiciously.

You straightened your shoulders, soft smile dropping as you turned your attention back to Rindou ignoring the look of distaste that spread across his face as he looked at where the elders were watching the two of you. The last thing you needed was rumors spreading about you and your retainer. His gaze returned to you, lavender eyes softening as they met yours, pale hair slipping from the usually neat bun he had it tied back in.

Your eyes traced over Rindou’s form, taking in the blades sheathed at either side of his waist, the light-scaled armor decorating his body, still stained with blood.

“How did the mission go?” you asked him, walking in the direction of a nearby sakura tree, intent on standing underneath the shade, the late summer heat getting too much for your body to handle--you could feel the sweat beading at your forehead.

“Successful,” Rindou said, walking a pace behind you, one hand resting on the hilt of one of his blades. You forced yourself to keep looking forward as decorum insisted despite how much you longed to look back to make sure he was okay--he was limping, you could see that much at least from the corner of your eye. “Took longer than expected though. The tip we received ended up being a bigger plot than we had originally planned on dealing with. We weren’t able to get hard proof but we’re pretty certain that they were shinobi from the far east employed by the Tachibanas.”

Your lips twisted into a deep frown at the name. Of course it was the Tachibanas. Shinichiro started moving into the silk trade a few months ago after the Kawatas captured territory along the Sendo border. We should’ve been more prepared for this. You warned him, you-

“It’s okay,” Rindou’s voice was quieter as the two of you reached the sakura tree. It was barely cooler under the shade, but at least the sun was no longer beating down on you. Standing on the opposite side of the tree and out of sight from the more prying members of your clan, Rindou stepped closer to you, reaching out to squeeze your bicep lightly. “We took care of it, and now we know what to watch out for.”

You were not as convinced. Your clan and the other three major clans of Kanto looked down upon the Tachibanas for their lack of militaristic strength but you knew better than to look at it with such a tunneled view. The Tachibanas were dangerous but no one took them seriously because of their status as a merchant clan, and that only made them more dangerous because everybody underestimated them.

But you knew better--the Tachibanas knew how to utilize their masses of money, and they knew how to scheme and work the webs of politics like masters of the art. The Tachibanas always got what they wanted and that terrified you. They weren’t ones that spent their coin on half-assed jobs and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else you were all missing.

“What are you thinking about?” Rindou asked, and you let out a soft breath, considering what to say but Rindou spoke again before you could choose your words, “You don’t think that was the end of it.”

And for a second, you were reminded of just how grateful you were to have Rindou in your life. He was always able to tell what you were thinking without you having to say anything, and unlike other members of your clan who doubted your intelligence because of your gender, he always took your words seriously.

“The Tachibanas are not to be underestimated,” you murmured, “they don’t slip up. Everything they do is for a reason.”

Rindou eyed you as he took in your words, “You don’t think it’s possible that the men they hired messed up?”

“The Tachibanas do not hire amateurs,” was all you said in return and Rindou inhaled sharply, leaning back on his heels.

“I’ll mention it to the other retainers,” he promised, “we’ll keep an eye out.”

You nodded, gaze drifting back over to where Shinichiro was talking to Izana and Manjiro before bringing your eyes back to Rindou, taking note of the way he was leaning on his right side, “You’re hurt.”

Rindou grimaced, “One of the shinobi managed to land a blow on my left side where…”

… where it had never healed correctly.

You pressed your lips together, looking away, guilt pooling in your stomach as it did whenever you were reminded of that incident years ago. Rindou let out a deep breath at your reaction, “It wasn’t your fault,” he reminded you quietly, “You were just a kid-”

“So was he,” you said, voice colder than you intended as you stared down the hill toward where Manjiro was grinning up at Shinichiro, oblivious to the dark look you were sending his way.

Rindou grabbed your hand, forcing you to unfist it. You winced, not even having realized you had been fisting it tight enough that your nails were tearing through your palm.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated, letting his hand drop back to his side, “and he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

We do though, you said to yourself, remembering how you held Rindou screaming for help, spitting foul words at Manjiro who only stared at the two of you, unperturbed; remembering how Shinichiro and Izana had come running from inside of the house at your screams; remembering how Rindou still couldn’t look Manjiro in the eyes, how his lips tightened every time your brother spoke to him, how he always kept his distance from him whenever he could.

Manjiro might not remember it but you did, Rindou did, Izana and Shinichiro did.

“Rindou,” Shinichiro called loudly and the two of you turned your attention back down the hill where Izana and Manjiro had stopped sparring, now speaking to Shinichiro instead. “Come.”

To Rindou’s credit, he did not make an outward reaction to the request, only nodding, but as he turned back to you, you noticed the grimace that flashed across his face, “Would you like me to come down with you?” you offered, even though you knew it would gain sideways looks from the elders observing the spar--women were not meant to be directly on the training ground.

“No,” Rindou said, “Stay, it’ll only be a second. I’m sure he just wants a debrief on the mission while the three of them are together. I’ll let him know what you’re thinking while I’m down there.”

You eyed him suspiciously but Rindou only gave you a reassuring look before turning his back to you and making his way down the hill toward your three brothers.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the tree, shutting your eyes as you tried to figure out what exactly you should do--could do, really. There would be another meeting between the clan’s elders soon and you knew they would be pushing hard for Shinichiro to formally declare Manjiro as heir, you knew they would be pushing hard for Shinichiro to find a wife and have his own heirs, and you knew that they would be pushing hard to marry you off to the Shibas of the southeast or the Teranos of the northwest.

You nearly cringed at the thought.

It’s your duty, you reminded yourself. The only thing you could do as a woman to help further the clan was marry into a different clan to forge stronger alliances, create more intricate networks of information.

But you hated it. You did. You didn’t want to be sold off to the Shibas, much less the Teranos, both of whose clan head’s were notorious for rash acts of violence.

It could prevent war, you’re being selfish, the rational part of you screamed. The Teranos were just waiting for the opportunity to invade Sano territory and the Shibas were already pushing into Mitsuya lands, and you knew that a union between the clans through marriage might lessen tensions but…

but it also might not. The Teranos and Shibas cared for little more than territory expansion, the elders hoped that by marrying you off to one of them, they would back off Sano territory--as tradition dictates, but the Teranos and Shibas were both young clans that did not strictly adhere to the ancient laws. There was a high chance they would accept the proposal and then use you as a hostage to force Shinichiro into a corner but the elders refused to see that possibility.

They were arrogant. It would cost your clan everything, you knew it.

And you could do better for the clan here, you knew that, Shin knew that and it was the only reason why he continued to ignore the elders’ incessant demands of having you meet with the clan heads. But he could only put it off for so long, you were well past the age most women got married already.

You wanted to scream, and cry, and force the elders to see reason but you couldn’t.

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.

Sometimes, you wished-

Your thoughts were cut off, eyes shooting open as a chill ran down your spine.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it in your bones. Your gaze ripped from the sky above down to the bottom of the hill where your retainer and three brothers were still standing and talking.

You watched, slowly, as Rindou’s eyes turned toward you; you watched as a strange expression crossed over Manjiro’s face, as if he too could sense something was wrong, looking up the hill in your direction; and you watched as Izana, who was already facing your direction, shoved Shinichiro out of the way as he moved in your direction, an expression you had never quite seen before decorating his face--fear.

Directed toward you?

You blinked, distantly, you heard Manjiro shout your name but you were more focused on the rustling from either side of you.

Your head turned too slow. You barely caught the movement on your left from the corner of your eye.

A rush of dark clothing, a glint of silver.

Shinobi.

#the awards | ✰#vip: cat | ✯#will rb once back on main #BUT EXCUSE ME?!?#THAT ENDING?!?#luckily I like cliffhangers… BUT STILL

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