#I THOUGHT OF THEM LIKE SIBLINGS FIRST BUT THIS IS INDEFINITELY MORE ACCURATE

[idyllic-affections]

PLATONIC LIFE PARTNERS. THATS BASICALLY WHAT BAIZHU AND CHILDHOOD FRIEND!READER ARE

[tv-music]

Umbrella Academy Review 1.10

The White Violin

In the season one finale we pick up pretty much where we left off - Vanya seemingly possessed by her own power and destroying anything and everything that she comes across. The worst moment for me was when she killed Pogo - I know he was in on all of Reginald's secrets but that was brutal. Vanya walked away from the house with it completely destroyed, leaving her siblings reeling.

As the house falls down around them Diego and Klaus are knocked down by some debris and as Klaus tries to wake Diego to stop the ceiling from killing them, they are both suddenly moved out of the way by Ben. Similar to the previous episode where Ben punched Klaus and actually made contact with him he once again was able to somehow make physical contact with his brothers and save their lives 

Outside the academy, or more accurately, standing in the ruined mess that is now the academy, the siblings come together as Five realises that not only is the apocalypse still on track but that Vanya is the cause 

They gather together at a local bowling alley now their home is destroyed to come up with a plan to stop Vanya. Luther is all set to doing anything to stop her, yeah great idea genius, like treating her like a threat rather than a sister isn’t what got you into this mess in the first place. Klaus, Diego and Alison on the other hand want to help her not hurt her 

The bowling alley is attacked by what we have to assume is the commission, the siblings escape in style with another great musical number behind it (the music choices on this show have been incredible)

Five goes to meet The Handler, she has an offer - go back to being alone after the apocalypse indefinitely or stay and die with your siblings, what a deal - in truth the real reason was so she could distract him while his siblings were attacked. 

Cha Cha and Hazel are having to answer to The Handler about their failed assignment, with poor Agnes still tied up, as The Handler enjoys some takeout - you know as you do while you plot to make sure the death of billions of people still takes place. They are given their newest mission - keep Vanya safe.

While watching Vanya, Hazel purposefully crashes the car so Cha Cha goes headfirst through the windshield - I would think this a cold move but after what Cha Cha did to Agnes I can’t say she didn’t deserve it.

He makes his way back to the motel room to save Agnes and wastes no time in shooting The Handler in the head (not buying that she’s dead, Five blew her up and it didn’t finish her off)

The siblings arrive at the concert hall, with Luther still being his moronic self and underestimating his siblings - seriously how was this guy ever considered the leader - as they try to stop Vanya from ending the world 

Vanya is playing as first chair and sees Alison watching from the audience, the two share a small smile, it's been obvious for a while that all Vanya wants is to feel accepted and here for a split second she seemed to be happy. That is of course before Luther’s plan fails before they've even had a chance to execute it, no surprises there. Five and the commission's hit-men show up just as Klaus realises too late that they’ve arrived. As he runs in with the late warning he channels his power as he never has before, bringing Ben into the physical world long enough to use his power and stop the commission - maybe now they’ll stop underestimating him. During all the commotion Cha Cha shows up - seriously how is she still walking around? - and Diego attacks. Before he kills her he thinks back to his conversation with Five and let’s her go. 

The male siblings attempt to stop Vanya as she becomes stronger and stronger (the change to the white suit was amazing) but they are no match for their sister and her newfound powers. I’m not completely sure what she was doing at that point but it looked like she was literally sucking the life out of her brothers, that is before Alison shot a gun next to her, breaking her concentration on all the sounds and she collapsed, but not before a shot hit the moon and the apocalypse began - looks like them stopping Vanya is actually what caused the apocalypse.

As the debris of the moon begins hitting the Earth, Five comes up with a plan - he’s going to try, for the first time ever, to time travel and take his siblings with him. As plans go it’s crazy but they have less than a minute before their deaths so anyone can see why they went with it. They take each others hands and time travel to god knows where just as the world ends

Five spent the entire season trying to stop the apocalypse and in that he failed miserably, but if we’re being honest, it wasn’t the world he wanted to save, it was his siblings - and as the world burned around them that is exactly what he did

And with that, Season One of The Umbrella Academy comes to an end. I've really enjoyed this show, and have no idea where things are heading in Season Two, but I cannot wait to find out … Bring it on!

Extra Thoughts:

The woman coming over to ask if Five wanted to come and join Kenny birthday as long as it was OK with his 2 dads (Diego and Klaus) had me in stitches

In the flashback to Vanya getting the violin, was it me or was Reginald smiling when overhearing her speak to their Mum about how she was going to practice and become extraordinary

It was nice to see Hazel and Agnes get away before the apocalypse hit, they deserved the happy ending, Cha Cha on the other hand, I can’t say I’m sad about her ending

Vanya didn’t say a word this episode, but I felt every ounce of pain, anger and sadness in every scene - Elliot Page did a phenomenal job portraying that

[stormra]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could give your headcannons on how the Matsuno brothers would react towards someone finally reciprocating the same feelings/developing a crush on them? Take your time!

❝     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

— type : headcanons

— characters : the matsuno brothers

Thank you for being my first headcanon request! I know that I’m allowed to post other works without anyone requesting them, but I felt as if it would be more rewarding to wait until someone finally did. Now I’ll let myself write headcanons, especially since I’ve finally caught up on matchups. It also took me a while to figure out how I want to format headcanons. I care too much about what my blog looks like. So, without further ado, let’s get into it! Thank you for being patient!

Osomatsu : Although he’s a huge pervert, your confession will leave him absolutely winded. He has spent his entire life begging for a partner—with you as the target he’s been dreaming of—but with this sudden opportunity placed before him, he doesn’t know what to do... and is he really cut out to date someone as awesome as you? Wishing for a partner is immensely different than actually having one. Rather than immediately accepting the confession, he’ll hesitate before quickly realizing that he shouldn’t think, deciding that acting fast is probably the better option as compared to standing and worrying. He doesn’t want to lose you, after all! He’ll jump at you with open arms as if miraculously brought to life by your smile, nuzzling the living Hell out of your head. Wow, wow! A partner! How awesome! His thoughts won’t be very profound... nor will his speech. He’s pretty puppy-like in disposition. Despite being a bit worried about the future, though, he’s elated—especially because it’s you who likes him, not some rando or Totoko. I headcanon that his “crush” on her is just his version of coping with the fact he has nothing he truly came up with on his own. So, crushing on someone gives him the same sensations related to finally having his own idenity... but that’s a thought for another post. Anyways, your confession leaves him undeniably euphoric, really. He won’t exactly tell you that he feels the same, but it’s kinda obvious in the way he begs to kiss your cheek and tell his brothers about your confession.

I’ll be real with you; he’ll definitely want to show you off and the fact that you confessed first. You best prepare yourself for that. 

Karamatsu : Did you say “lots of blubbering?” “Many futile attempts to hide his obvious tears?” Like Osomatsu, Karamatsu simply cannot believe someone as elegant and as beautiful as you returns his cheesy affections. It’s no secret that he’s a very emotional, guarded man who hides the truth behind painfully obvious facades of cringy confidence and things of that nature. Upon hearing your words, he‘ll stop whatever he’s doing and stare at you as if you single handedly fought off a horde of angry people, lips agape and eyes wider than saucers with tears already forming in the corners. He did not just hear you say that! By the gods! He definitely tries to mask his joy with those obnoxiously cringy phrases he loves, calling you his muse while claiming he knew this would happen—who can resist such a man as he? Yet... when push comes to shove, that persona of his is faltering immediately as soon as you laugh or even smile at his attempt to play it cool. I can tell you that much. As his tears finally fall, overwhelmed by just how euphoric you make him feel, he’ll let you comfort him like the man-baby he is. He’s just so overwhelmed that you, the light of his life, finally feels the same about such a lowly NEET like himself! Although crying like an infant, he’ll try and confess his own feelings in an attempt to win your affection further. What a dork!

Choromatsu : Don’t expect a dramatic reaction from this guy. On the surface, he’ll manage to stifle his joy and surprise well enough to smile at you, timidly (yet effectively) expressing himself in return. Great! Romance! However, on the inside, he’s indefinitely a panicked mess, stressed and worried about what he should say and do from this point onward. Dating? Who is she? He doesn’t know her—especially anything having to do with “wooing” you. Prior to your confession, he hardly flirted with you at all! He’ll definitely crack from time to time during his own confession, stuttering every so often, incapable of looking into your eyes for any extended period of time. If you want to see his composure fall, just kiss him, hug him, or try to hold his hand. Even quicker than Karamatsu’s facade, his unbothered approach will quickly melt into that whimpering mess we’re familiar with. Once he’s true to himself, though, he might even calm down and effectively convey himself without tripping over his words. You can expect to see a very prominent reddish hue on his cheeks. It compliments him greatly!

I’d also like to mention that he’s definitely the most obvious when it comes to his crush on you. I honestly don’t make the rules; I only enforce them!

Ichimatsu : This one is a bit tricky. While it’s easy to assume he wouldn’t have much of a reaction to your confession, it’s more accurate to say that his reaction would be the most negative out of his brethren. No, he won’t shoot you down, but he won’t say yes either. He’ll instead look at you in complete disbelief, confined to silence for a moment, before uttering that he doesn’t believe you and that you’re just trying to make him look like an idiot. If I’m being realistic, you’d probably have to space your confession out over the span of two days in order to reach the best results. You need to give him some time to sit and think through the thought of dating someone. Even though he adores you and your presence a lot—more than anything else—he views himself as garbage; someone unfit for love. He never would have imagined that his tiny crush would lead to this. If you confess to him and give him a day to think, however, you’ll find that Ichimatsu really is just misunderstood and touch-starved, desperate to find the love and support he has been dreaming of. He needs someone in his life who is willing to be patient with him and his struggles. The fact you are willing to wait for his indecisiveness to pass shows just how reliable you can be for him within a relationship. He’ll return to you the next day and wordlessly embrace you, ready to try something outside of his comfort zone. As long as it’s you he’ll be dating, he doesn’t really mind!

Jyushimatsu : Yeah... you can anticipate a lot of smiles and a lot of jumping up and down with flappy arms. He’ll definitely find your confession to be the most exciting thing ever, but it’s important to remember that Jyushimatsu is very, very incapable of keeping still and expressing himself with words (due to a lame vocabulary), so it’s advised to be patient with him and read his behaviors closely. Instead of expressing his own feelings with words, he’ll excitedly lunge at you and wrap you in his strong arms, absolutely ecstatic over the fact that his crush reciprocates his feelings. Internally, his mind is one with his outward demeanor, fueled by the ideas of what the two of you can do together now that he knows you feel the same. Again, while he may not express his love with words, the way in which he actively tries to kiss your cheek is a pretty solid indicator that he feels the same. Honestly, his reaction to being confessed to isn’t too different from his typical way of expressing himself to you. Prior to your confession, he always greeted you with a huge embrace! Now that he knows you feel the same, though, expect a lot of kisses and a lot of super tight hugs. You probably won’t get a confession out of him at all; you’ll have to ask him if he truly wants to start a relationship or not. Communication is always important. Although it may be hard to communicate with someone as exitable as him, it’s very important and he’ll appreciate it immensely! Trust me.

Todomatsu : Honestly, compared to the rest of his brothers, this guy’s reaction ought to be the most casual and, dare I say it, assertive of the bunch. His siblings are all painfully starved from social interaction and proper enactments of adulthood, so it’s no surprise that they’ll react like children when finally given the opportunities they have been dreaming of for years and years. Todomatsu, however, has grown to be a more social man when posed aside his extremely toxic brothers, constantly hanging out with girl after girl and guy after guy in order to climb to the top of his sextuplet home life. It’s no surprise that he’s the most unbothered by your confession of love. Upon hearing your confession, he’ll blush a bit while placing a smirk on his cheeks, dead set on teasing the Hell out of you. Being a tease is his specialty, after all. Even if he’s a bit embarrassed on the outside, he’s ready to assert whatever dominance he can. It’s cute, honestly, but that doesn’t mean he won’t comment on your confession or crush.

“Wow, Y/N-chan has a crush on me? How sweet!”

“Finally coming around, huh? You’re so cute.”

However, deep inside, peering around his two-faced nature and desire to be the best of his brothers, he’s shocked with your confession, feeling like a pampered prince who has just touched the most lavish cushion ever crafted by man. Finally! His efforts have been noted! You can expect to receive a hug or a kiss as he admits to liking you back. While it may not be the most extravagant reaction, your upcoming relationship will make up for it. I promise!

[junie-bugg]

Prospects and Propriety - Chapter One

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

“We’re very similar, you and I.” He turns the leaf over in his palm one last time and then presses it into my hand. His fingertips are warm where the leaf is brittle.

We are, aren’t we? Me, a girl forced to marry by the rules and expectations of society and him, a boy whose freewill was stolen away before he could even walk. We’re both prisoners. Destined to fates we did not choose ourselves. Now I see what was so funny to him.

The two of us: we are absolutely tragic.

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Author’s Note: 

This is a story inspired by my love of Everlark and Jane Austen’s novels. I am in no way an expert on the Regency period and I include fashions/details that are not historically accurate.

The setting is an alternate England-like Panem.

The plot is my own (Gale is not Mr. Darcy people, don’t get it twisted) but does borrow aesthetics and ideas directly from Jane Austen and Suzanne Collins.

The cast of characters is a mix of canon Hunger Games and original characters I’ve created.

I plan on including links to music and ambiance videos I used while writing so feel free to explore those! I typically play nature sounds and music together on my laptop so sorry if you're reading on a phone!

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4

(If you want to listen to this on Spotify it's called 'The Secret Life of Daydreams' from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.)

Word Count: 1,727

Chapter One

I run my hands through the tall grasses at my waist. It’s the perfect morning. The crisp air doesn’t quite hold that harsh bite of winter that will soon sweep the countryside in blizzards and ice. Emerald leaves hint at the coming autumn with the slightest tint of yellow along their stems. The sun shines bright through branches and I watch the forest come alive with squirrels and chipmunks that scurry through the thick brush. The dirt path I followed to get here grazes the edge of the woods, but I’ve abandoned it to traipse through the wild-flower dotted hillsides instead. 

From this high up, I can see everything. The village of Whitley lies to the west. I can just make out the rooftops of the squat brick buildings off the main square. By this time the merchants will have opened their shops for business. The rest of the countryside is peppered with grand estates and bountiful farmland. Rivers gleam like veins of silver and dirt roads are wreathed in the dust kicked up by horse-drawn carriages. I wish I could stay and sit here all day. I would drink in the sun and drown in the low hum of insects, though Haymitch has warned me of the nasty gossip that follows a lady with a tan and a set of freckles. 

A lady. I almost snort. Apparently, that’s what I am. Or what I need to be if anyone is ever going to ask for my hand in marriage. The thought ruins the good mood my morning stroll had put me in. I throw myself down among the tall grasses and begin plucking mindlessly at their stems. 

Haymitch Abernathy, the legal guardian of me and my sister, has never been one to force us into doing things we dislike. I’m allowed to ride my horse alone, hunt with a bow and arrow, and take off into the woods whenever I please, like some woodland nymph from one of my father’s old stories. If it wasn’t for Prim and my greenhouse back at home I would probably live out here. Until it got cold of course. I’m allowed more freedom than any other young girl in the county, I’m sure. But not even Haymitch can protect me from matrimony. 

My sister is excited for me. I imagine she’s fantasized about her wedding since she knew what a wedding was. To her, marriage is a romantic fairytale. A strong, handsome man of large fortune will sweep her off her feet and give her an estate to run and small, cherub-faced children to care for. To me, marriage sounds like a death sentence. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll marry for love as well as for fortune, but I never want to love someone as much as my mother loved my father. Because when he died, in a way, so did she. The only person I know that I truly love is Prim. 

Primrose Everdeen, my little sister, was never the outdoorsy type like me. She’s fair, with golden blonde hair that hangs in ringlets past her slight shoulders, and a face as fresh and as pure as a spring dewdrop. She spends her days drawing, flower arranging, and studying languages with my old tutor Mrs. Winthrop. 

“She’ll be a highly accomplished woman by the time I’m done with her. Mark my words, this young girl is special,” Mrs. Winthrop had said to Haymitch mere days after first starting Prim’s lessons. She had been my tutor for years and had never said anything nearly as flattering about me. Sullen Katniss Everdeen must have been a lost cause in her eyes. 

I’m four years older than Prim who’s a mere twelve. We share the same parents, though we look almost nothing alike. Where she received the fair skin, blonde curls, and gentle blue eyes of our mother, I received the olive-toned, straight black, and storm grey palette of our father. 

I sit up suddenly, aware that I left home hours ago and it must be getting time for my lessons. I dread heading back to that stuffy room where I’m required to sit straight and learn to be “lady-like” under the scrutinizing gaze of Ms. Effie Trinket, my new tutor. Manners are of the utmost importance to her, seeing as she makes her living off of teaching them. She considers being late an unforgivable sin. 

With this in mind, I take my time gathering wild-flowers. There are so many at my feet, their delicate white and yellow petals peeking up amongst the grasses. I deftly craft two flower chains. One for me, which I place on the crown of my head, and one for Prim clutched in my hands. I notice some dirt under my nails and smile, wondering what Effie will say when I arrive late and grimy. 

She purses her lips and crosses her arms as I enter the room. “Where were you?” She demands in that high pitched voice of hers. 

“Out,” I shrug. I hadn’t seen Prim on my way in so I’m still clutching her flower crown. I offer it to Effie instead. “Flowers?” She squints at my offering, probably checking for bugs, before gingerly taking it and placing it down on a side table. 

“Katniss, I need you to take today’s lesson seriously.” Her clipped tone sets my teeth on edge.

“I always do-” I start, but Effie cuts me off. 

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I know you don’t care for etiquette. I know that to you a spoon is just a spoon, even when that spoon is a soup spoon and should only be used for soup!” 

Again with the soup spoon thing, it was one time. But she’s right. I find learning manners and etiquette a waste of time. I’ve only been out in society for a short while. I barely attend balls seeing as I’m sixteen and prefer to stay at home anyway. I look up and realize that Effie is still talking at me.

“Are you even listening? Mrs. Winthrop was right, you are hopeless.” She sighs and wipes non-existent dust off of her shimmery lilac skirts. “It is imperative that you start paying attention and make some kind of progress in these lessons. Mr. Gale Hawthorne has recently taken possession of Templeton and is traveling here, as we speak, to take up residence indefinitely. Do you know what this could mean for you?” Suddenly, her annoyance melts away and is replaced by a teary, almost hopeful expression. The way this woman’s emotions swing back and forth between happy and exasperated hurts my head. She comes to clasp my face between her palms. “Mr. Hawthorne earns ten thousand a year, Katniss. Ten thousand!” 

I have in fact heard of the Hawthornes. Maybe those lessons have had more of an impact on me than I thought. I was forced to spend months poring over books filled with the names and family trees of wealthy, well-known families that I had either already been acquainted with or might be acquainted with in the future. A healthy knowledge of people, especially rich people, will get you far in life. At least that’s what Effie says. 

Gale Hawthorne is the eldest son of the wealthy businessman Ezra Hawthorne. I forget exactly how Mr. Hawthorne first made his fortune but the word mine sticks around in my head. What his mine produced, I’m not sure. Precious gems? Gold? Coal? All I know is the Hawthornes are incredibly wealthy, and Gale being the eldest son inherited when his father died. He is in possession of everything from the family fortune to a legion of servants to the many extravagant houses in Town. Now it seems he’s grown tired with the city and has decided to try his hand at country living. Good, I think. A wealthy man who’s used to the high society of the Capitol won’t last long out here. He’ll be out of my hair before the month’s up. Effie must not realize this since she’s still staring happily into my face. 

“And?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage!” She beams as if this is obvious. “If you play your cards right of course. For instance, he won’t find you very agreeable if all you do is scowl at him like you do me-” I jerk out of her grasp. 

Of course. Marriage. It’s one of the only things Effie has talked about the entire time I’ve been her pupil. 

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy warned me that'd you'd be. . .avoidant. But don’t you see? That’s the reason I’m here. To teach you how to win a husband! It’s an art you know.” She sighs, probably seeing the panicked look on my face, and slips back into a tone of tired annoyance. “You’ll have to marry someone, Katniss. Might as well marry knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life in the lap of luxury.”

She’s right, of course. There’s no way for women to make their own living. I can’t go to university to study business or law, I can’t run my own shop, I can’t inherit Haymitch’s estate or fortune. When he dies the money goes to some estranged cousin on his father’s side. I am a woman, therefore, I am destined to either marry or die poor and unprotected. And Prim…

If I don’t marry, then Prim can’t marry. One of the rules of proper Panem society is that a younger sibling cannot marry unless the eldest has, meaning I must be happily settled before my younger sister can even entertain the idea of love. If I don’t get married and Haymitch goes and does something stupid like die, there will be nothing I can do. For either of us. We’d be turned out of the house and left to beg for scraps. And I will not let that happen to Prim. Not again. 

I force myself to swallow past the lump in my throat and spend the rest of the afternoon paying careful attention to Effie. She’s trying to teach me to communicate with men via body language, long gazes, and the fluttering of lashes. 

This is the only way to save Prim, and with each horrible flutter I produce and each disappointed sigh from Effie, I feel my chances slipping away.

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Dēlīrĭum || Arthur Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “Yay I love prompts! Okay; Arthur Shelby & number 16 from that beautiful list of yours. Happy writing! :D”  ♡

Summary:  n.16 from my prompt list: “Another’s hands on her skin” (Finn being my precious little baby, Thomas being both a caring “big” brother and an unbeatable bitch, as usual) Warnings: swearing, heavy drinking, cocaine use, mention of PTSD, angst, Arthur being softer than cotton candy

Author’s notes:

I just reached 168 followers, yay! I know it may not seem like much, but I’m shamelessly happy right know, thank you so much babes ♡

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m letting you down, idk, I just can’t help but think that you’re not happy with my latest works; so, please, if  what I think is true, tell me what’s worng and what’s right about my writing, take a minute to send me a message, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want, take a look at this:  ↠ Contāgĭo↞

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

Probably, this piece is angsty, I don’t know why it came out this way, maybe because I’ve been very low in the past days, so I’m sorry if this is not what you expected. Anyway, let me know what you think about it ♡ 

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Dēlīrĭum [dēlīrĭum], delirii  neutral noun II declension 

1. delirium, frenzy 2. madness, lunacy, folly 3. rage, wrath, ire 4. unbridled desire, fierce passion

That familiar dense fluid inexorably dropped out of the crystal bottleneck, its dark stream harmonically danced, giving birth to an indefinite number of small whirlpools, before steadily falling into the compact glass held in Arthur’s trembling hand.  His gaze followed the whole process with noxious attention, those few moments stretched out in his blue eyes, till it seemed like it took an eternity for the whisky to brim over his cup, and, during that distorted time, he somehow managed to find some numb peace, alienating his haunted mind from the thundering world around him. Nevertheless, when even the last drop run its course, that usual asphyxiating chaos, along with his compulsive thoughts, returned to fill his ears, destructively afflicting his brain again. That had been a long rough night at the Garrison, and finally, nearly at the crack of dawn, he was allowed to seek a little solace by sitting alone at the table in their private room and downing his umpteenth glass of liquor, yet no relief came for him as he couldn’t help but think about his only excruciating obsession: you. Your mother had always been Polly’s closest friend, for which reason you practically grew up around the Shelbys, easily becoming part of their family since you truly loved all of them like your own siblings, and they just felt the same way about you; however, it turned out to be even easier for you to mercilessly steal the callous heart of their oldest brother. Indeed, Arthur had been madly in love with you for as long as he could remember, what irreparably bound him to you was such a strong feeling, that the cruel war itself hadn’t been able to weaken it, not in the slightest; still, after all those years, he couldn’t find the guts to come clean about his incommensurable affection for you. Actually, the mere thought of telling you the truth terrified him: every time he looked in the mirror, he only saw a rude, pathetic man unworthy of a wonderful, sweet creature like you, he knew he could never give you what you really deserved, he knew he just was not enough, and he definitely hated the idea of making you unhappy by forcing you to remain stuck with such a wreck for the rest of your life. Anyway, during that long time, he had learnt how to cope with his difficult feelings, he had gradually become able to hide them, eventually finding a way to stay by your side without going crazy; but that night, when you entered the pub holding hands with an unknown bloke, when he noticed the way you smiled while looking into his brown eyes, every single piece of his frail soul fell apart all over again, leaving him devastated and close to a new mental breakdown. Once more, his chest seemed to unnaturally collapse under the weight of that terrible realization, pain radiating through his whole body as he tried to get rid of that dreadful sensation by slightly shaking his head. Yet, nothing changed, everything in that moment felt just like a flashback of the war, the booze together with that deep sorrow were dangerously tricking his mind, leading him to hear inaudible noises and sense inconsistent hands strangling him almost to death. Still partially aware of what was going on in his brains, and eager to break free from those mental chains, he inconsiderately took from his pocket the small blue ampoule Finn had given him, pouring its deadly white content on the table and hastily cutting it, before he could inhale the Tokyo with such violence that, soon after, blood started to fall from his left nostril. Arthur stood there for a while, in religious silence, with his wide eyes turned at the ceiling in a mute prayer to that God who had apparently forgotten about him long before that day, nevertheless he prayed for the world to stop wildly spinning around him, and when nothing happened, again, he couldn’t hold back his deleterious ire anymore. Before he had the chance to realize what he was doing, he found himself rabidly throwing the massive wooden table against the closed door, along with its four chairs and several empty bottles, his palms now covered in blood and wounded by uncountable glass shards. In the meanwhile, the main salon of the Garrison was occupied only by Finn and Isaiah, busy playing cards and drinking beer, excited to be finally allowed to stay up late at night, yet, as soon as that loud crash reached his ears, Finn dropped everything without a second thought and, utterly immersed in a blind panic, he promptly run towards the blinders private space, for his mind was already picturing the worst possible scenario. The youngest Shelby used all his strength, he kept kicking the barred door and ramming into it, until he knocked it off the hinges and barged into the room right away, finding Arthur alone in the middle of the place, crimson drops rolling down his fingers and a disoriented look on his tormented face. “Jesus Christ, Arthur! What happened? Are you okay?” Anxious breaths left the boy’s lips as he swiftly approached his brother, paying attention to avoid that mess made of sharp splinters and jagged pieces of wood, he meticulously checked that no serious harm had occurred and soon sighed with pure relief, still, when he tried to fraternally place a hand on Arthur’s arm, an impetuous shove threw him against the opposite wall. “Go away, Finn! Get the fucking out of here!” Still dazed due to the violent collision, Finn simply looked at him for a brief moment, he was beside himself, foaming at the mouth as he took dangerous steps in his direction, thus the young man managed to get back on his feet as fast as he could and escape that room without a backward glance. Anyway, he didn’t get to walk past the doorstep, because his face unexpectedly came in contact with Tommy’s chest; apparently, the middle brother had abandoned his accounting ledgers, alarmed by those same loud noises. “You’re the only one who can do something, I-I tried to help him, I tried! But he wouldn’t let me, p-please...” Tom lovingly gave him a pat on the shoulder, bringing his restless rambling to an end and flashing him a sympathetic smile, before he gently smacked his freckled cheek two times as a sign of gratification. “It’s all right, kid. You did good, go home now, eh? I’m taking care of this” Finn nodded keeping his eyes down as he rejoined Isaiah in order to leave the pub, Thomas, instead, just leaned against the doorframe and calmly lit a cigarette, while his sceptical gaze remained on Arthur who, on the other hand, keeled over the floor with both his hands covering his face. “Would you mind explaining what the bloody hell is going on?” Tommy’s stoic tone didn’t change a shade as he greedily sucked down the bleak smoke and watched his sibling squirm on the ground, screaming out all of his frustration. “It’s y/n, Tommy! It’s always been her” His voice cracked for a few moments, overwhelmed by a cry bereft of tears. “I-I can’t bear to see another’s bloody hands on her skin, Tommy, I just can’t. This... she is- she is driving me insane, brother!” Arthur’s fists collided multiple times with his own face as he continued to desperately alternate heavy sobs and gruesome wailings, until Thomas reached for him, roughly lifting him up by harpooning his jacket collar, he managed to get him to stand up, more determined than ever to put some sense back into his dizzy head.

“Hey!” His hoarse voice raised and he buried the fingers of his right hand in his brother’s cheeks, so that the strong grip on his face obliged Arthur to look into Tom’s stern icy eyes as they brutally delved into his tormented conscience.  “You are Arthur fucking Shelby! If you want something, you fucking take it, because you fucking can!” Those words left Tommy’s mouth in a proper roar, still they were not enough to fix that tragic situation, in fact, a couple of seconds later, Arthur reacted to that sudden assault and violently pushed him away, before going back to cover his face with his palms, in attempt to shut down all the demons riddling his mind. “She doesn’t love me! Don’t you get it? She never will, goddamn, look at me!”

A loud husky laugh echoed through the room, leading Arthur to raise his head, glancing at Thomas in disbelief. “Are you laughing? You ‘fucking laughing at me?!” Before Arthur could physically attack him, Tommy stopped his laughter and cleared his throat, it was impressive how, in a single instant, he was always able to get his usual severe expression back. “Yeah, I’m laughing, Arthur. I am, because y/n’s been dying for you since the bloody first grade, that girl’s been trying to get your attention in every possible way”  Tom’s index finger menacingly pointed at his brother’s chest while he kept shouting in his confused face “And she started dating that cunt since she was sure you would’ve never fancied her, ‘cause she’s fucking blind, just as you are! You damn idiots!”

Arthur’s blue eyes unrealistically widened in shock as his bran processed that absurd load of information, he started frenetically walking up and down the room, diving his fingers in his long hair in order to relax a bit.

“She is... Is s-she... Oh my fucking God! I need to see her, w-where is she, Tommy? Did she leave with that prick? I swear I’ll cut his hands off if he dares touch her...” The influence of cocaine on his brain was made clear by his frantic delirium, he kept bouncing from one place to another with a look halfway between enthusiastic and frightened, so that Thomas had to stop him by slightly poking the sweaty back of his neck in order to have his attention again. “She’s at Polly’s with Ada. They’re probably drunk, but so are you, now just go and take what’s yours, for God’s sake!”

@namelesslosers, @shadow-of-wonder

[itstheapocalypsebaby]

TUA Power HCs Part 1!

Luther

Discovered them at age 3 (He was the first)

He accidentally broke one of their nannies fingers

Had trouble controlling his strength (still does)

For personal training Reginald first made him build up his body

Because just cause he had incredible strength, didnt mean his body could take said strength

He used to accidentally break his arms when he used too much strength

They always healed fast though

As if they never broke to begin with

Baby Luther used to hide the fact that he broke/sprained/bruised his arms, legs, basically any part of his body because he felt like a failure whenever he got hurt

Later in life (maybe at 10?) Reginald discovers that Luther not only is super strong but also had super endurance

(Special Training was not fun that year, Reginald wanted to see how long he could last without food, water, air, shelter, etc.)

After that year, special training was a mix between building up his strength (weight lifting heavier and heavier objects every week) and building up his endurance (running around the room carrying a crap ton of weights, carrying a really really heavy weight and Reginald seeing how long he could carry it before his body gave out)

Diego

They first discovered his ability to breathe underwater first

Diego unlike his sibling absolutely adored bath time as a child

He would stay in the tub for hours if he could

One time his nanny had to leave him in the tub because one of his siblings was having a tantrum

She comes back to a sleeping Diego

Who's asleep in the tub

submerged in water

Was lowkey jealous of his siblings' powers while growing up

Reginald was so disappointed in him for having such a "useless ability"

Poor baby took it into heart :(

Special Training was awful before he found out his secondary power

Reginald wanted to see how long Diego could last underwater (he discovers Diego could last an indefinite amount of time down there)

He stopped liking water after that

He finds out about his secondary power at age 6

He likes to help Grace in cooking and usually cuts up the vegetables for her

He gets really good with the knife

So when Reginald demands he learns to wield a weapon he immediately chooses the knife

At first its was all stabby stabby but then one of his siblings goads him enough to rashly throw the knife at them

His aim is perfect. The knife is sailing through the air, going exactly where he wants it to be, except he wanted it to be in their head and oh god Diego panics, he didnt mean to throw that knife he never meant to hurt his siblings and he loves them and -

The knife is sailing towards his sibling's head and then it suddenly curves

Diego runs up to his sibling and hugs them and apologizes

Diego never wanted to pick up a knife after that

But then through some persuasion (Allison), he forgets the incident and picks it up again

Special training is all about accuracy and precision. All about moving targets, really tiny targets, living targets

Reginald wanted to know how much he could curve, what could he curve and all that jazz

Diego learns Physics because its an absolute must

(He learns how hard he has to throw for it to curve that much, how fast it needs to be to keep in the air even after it curves, how heavy should the knife be if he wants this specific result)

At first its hard and because he can curve anything he likes through pure instinct why does he need to learn Math?

But Reginald wants him to be as accurate as possible

(He motivates Diego by putting Mom and his siblings in situations where one false error could lead to their deaths)

He learns physics quickly

(Five and him bond over physics, Five helps him, He helps Five until Five gets too advanced and well...)

He actually gets super good and can do equations on the fly

People are constantly surprised at the amount of math needed for his powers

Allison

as a kid had absolutely no control on when her powers would activate

it would activate all the time leading to a lot of accidents

one time she snapped at Klaus to stop talking and he couldnt speak until she was able to reverse it

Reginald decided the best way for her to control it was through trigger phrases

she went through a lot of them because it wasnt cool enough for her

there was "listen up", "somebody once told me" (someone always interrupted her, usually Klaus, with the world was gonna roll me so she dropped it after like 3 uses) and a bunch more before settling on the iconic™ "I heard a rumor'

early on she learned that she had to be very precise with the wording or else the rumor wouldnt turn out the way she wanted it to

so special training was mainly focused on her wording, her pronunciation, and her learning other languages

allison is fluent in italian, french, spanish, mandarin, filipino, somali, she also can speak in a bunch of other languages but isnt super fluent

allison was actually pretty ok with special training until she was 10

thats when reggie brought in actual real life people

until that point she had only rumored her siblings (reginald actively encouraged it as long as he wasnt the one who got rumored) and occasionally the businessmen who came over to talk deals and shit

reggie was smart and only brought in people he was sure no one would miss, homeless hobos, drug addicts, people who lived by themselves and didnt have much family or any family at all

at first few meetings, she could stomach the feeling of wrongness

it was still easy for her to reason that what she was doing wasnt really wrong after all the commands she was issuing were really mild (like i heard a rumor you stubbed your toe, i heard a rumor you could play the piano perfectly)

they were just testing the reach of her powers

(could it rewrite your brain? create illusions, hallucinations? make you gain talents you never had? make you feel things?)

(reginald already knew her rumors could affect the memory, no need to test that, same thing with if her rumors could affect herself)

but then the more they pushed the boundaries the darker the rumors, the harder it was to stomach this sense of wrongness that threatened to swallow her whole

(could it override survival instincts? could it fake relationships? could it wreck relationships? can the human mind take multiple rumors at once? how about multiple conflicting rumors? how many rumors does it take to break the mind?)

its a lot easier to deal with special training when you cant remember

(but in her dreams she cant forget, she wakes up screaming, absolutely terrified and cant remember why)

Klaus

at first thought everyone could see the ghosts

actually he thought they werent ghosts cos they didnt appear to him with their death injuries

realized they were dead people when he accidentally walked through them

at first the ghosts were ok (they were mostly the nannies vanya killed so they were nice) they were loud and sobbed really really loud all the time but they didnt actively seek him and so he didnt actively seek them either

he still didn't like his powers even back then when they werent as bad as they are now

since he didnt really have any interest in his powers, reginald forced him to use them more, to explore them

klaus really didn't want to talk to any ghost so Reginald locks klaus into the mausoleum for the first time

this is where everything goes to shit btw

Klaus is absolutely terrified because these ghosts arent like the ghosts in the mansion (the nannies)

these ghost were malicious and horrible and they were dead for so long that they lost any sense of self or humanity in them

this is where klaus develops his fear of the ghost and his powers

this is where klaus loses a grip on his powers and it causes horrible repercussions

he sees the way they died now

and it terrifies him even more

from ages 8 to 11 hes facing the full force of his powers whenever hes trapped in the mausoleum

every session his fear gets worse and worse

the ghosts appearance actually reflects on how he feels about them actually

thats why ben and dave dont look awful

and why the rest of the ghost do

klaus loves ben and dave

he's absolutely terrified of the rest of them

he discovers that drugs numb their abilities when one of them gets hurt badly during training and is on really heavy pain medication

maybe it Five who broke 5 ribs when sparring because luther forgot to control his strength

Five couldn't jump at all when he was on those meds and he hated it

but Klaus? the moment he put two and two together he jumped at the opportunity to temporarily get rid of his powers

he would purposely get super banged up during training just to get rid of his powers and it scared the living shit out of his siblings

they ask him to stop and he does, he doesnt like it when he scares his siblings

but the ghosts get too much and klaus is severely tempted to fuck himself up to get that sweet relief that the pain meds provide

he stumbles upon Reggies alcohol cabinet and discovers that while getting drunk doesnt exactly cut off his powers it gives him this buzz that makes it a lot more bearable

he discovers drugs when he sneaks out one night to get more booze

he starts off with weed and gets hooked

the ghosts are always worse after coming down so he scrambles to get high as soon as possible

he doesnt try anything harder until ben dies 

after ben dies he spirals

TUA Power HCs Part 2 is coming up in a bit, ask me if you wanna get tagged for it :)

[rvnclwrites]

Romania 1999 Pt 3 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for parts 1 and 2.

Notes: So first of all, I suck and this is set eight years post graduation not nine. I for some reason had a stroke when I wrote part 1 and thought MC graduated in 1990 instead of 91. Oops. Also, I couldn't find any info on whether magical creatures can see Thestrals or what the rules are so what I wrote may not be accurate, but it worked for my plot line so idc lol.

Word Count: ~8000 (No, I’m not kidding. Sorry not sorry 😅)

(Y/N) had started visiting the owlery nearly every morning the following week in hopes of hearing back from one of her friends. Finally on Wednesday, her heart leapt as she cracked open the door and saw Pearl, one of the Sanctuary's beautiful barn owls, with a letter addressed to (Y/N) clamped in her beak. She tore into the envelope as fast as her fingers would allow, leaning against the cool concrete ledge behind her as she began to read.

(Y/N),

I am so proud of you!! I can't believe you're actually in Romania. I don't know what gave you the final push to make the move, but I am SO glad you did. I think this will be great for you, especially considering it's the one job you've talked about since we were third years. How long do you plan on staying? I hope indefinitely- if anyone deserves a place to settle down it's you.

Sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. Things have been hectic since I took on this new teaching job. Can you believe I'm actually a potions professor? Professor Haywood does have a nice ring to it if I do say so myself. Don't worry though, I still have plenty of time for my shop on the weekends. Just let me know if you need any Felix Felicis to help you take on those crazy beasts you're working with. (Or perhaps a small vial of Amortentia if settling down is actually a possibility?? Only joking… sort of.) How's everything been at the Sanctuary so far?

I miss you so much and hope to hear back from you soon. Bea sends her love too!

Love, Penny

(Y/N) sighed as she finished reading, drawing the parchment against her chest. It was nice to know Penny was proud of her. The beautiful blonde had always known what she wanted to do and had her life as a Potioneer planned out since their very first day at Ilvermorny. (Y/N), on the other hand, had been interested in so many different careers in the wizarding world she struggled when it came to narrowing down her options and feeling confident with her decision. Funny how that ended up working in her favor with the way everything turned out...

(Y/N) shook her head clear, not wanting to think about that right now. Reaching out, she stroked Pearl affectionately, realizing this was her first encounter with a magical creature that wasn't a dragon in over two weeks. That was (Y/N)'s only complaint about working at the Sanctuary so far. She was well aware before she accepted the job that owls and Thestrals were the only other creatures permitted on the grounds, but it was an adjustment after having spent nearly two years bonding with all the different creatures back at the Reserve. (Y/N) frowned, feeling the ache in her chest grow, and decided she would have to write back to Penny later. Right now she needed a reminder of just how much she enjoyed being here at the Sanctuary, and maybe she could visit the Thestrals later.

Working alongside Charlie and Hank did just the trick at first. She had purposefully worked through the next two days to keep herself distracted, and it was working fine until now. (Y/N) stilled as Ventus bowed his head to her and flapped his green wings once, creating an all too vivid parallel in (Y/N)'s mind with her favorite Hippogriff back at the Reserve.

"Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?" Hank said, waving a hand in front of her face.

(Y/N) pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to ease the sudden pounding in her head. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I said I think Ventus here is growing quite fond of you."

(Y/N) forced a smile, admiring the dragon in front of her. "Yeah. Probably helps that he's the nicest one of the bunch." She felt Hank's inquisitive gaze linger on her for longer than she felt comfortable with, so she added, "We should probably get back down for dinner."

Both Charlie and Hank agreed, and the trio followed the path back to the village, joining Scott at their usual picnic table.

"Did you hear that the Wasps got owned by Puddlemere yesterday?" Scott asked as he piled his plate with a second helping of mashed potatoes.

Hank snorted. "No surprise there. I would'a bet twenty galleons on it with how rubbish Wimbourne has been this year." The forty-three year old who had already downed his dinner grabbed a piece of pie from the tray. "Hey Charlie, didn't you play with some bloke on Puddlemere's team?"

Charlie, who was seated beside (Y/N), nodded. "Oliver Wood. He became captain for Gryffindor after I left. Pretty good Keeper."

"Wait, isn't your friend Andre a Keeper too?" Scott asked.

"For Pride of Portree, yeah."

"Bloody hell," Hank said through a mouthful of pie, "and your sister may start playing for the Harpies? With all these connections, you better damn well get us tickets to the next World Cup."

The men carried on with the Quidditch conversation, but (Y/N) was distracted by the mention of Charlie's sister. So far she had only caught wind of a brother named Bill, and now an unnamed sister, presumably younger if she's just now joining the Harpies. Since (Y/N) didn't want to ask about anyone's family outright, she had resorted to making mental notes whenever something was mentioned. Hank had a sister named Chloe, but Scott had never mentioned family, only a friend named Steven.

"How's Andre doing?" Scott asked. "He should come visit again sometime."

"I haven't seen him in awhile actually. I'll probably send him an owl when I go home for Christmas."

(Y/N)'s stomach lurched at the thought of going home for the holidays. She hoped it wasn't uncommon for people to stay here around Christmastime.

"Awh man, you're going home this year?" Hank asked, disappointment etched on his face. "I was hoping Molly and Arthur were gonna come back here for a change. We haven't seen 'em since your siblings stayed at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament."

Molly and Arthur, (Y/N) repeated in her head, adding who she presumed to be Charlie's parents to her mental list. She was surprised to find herself a little disappointed too. She would have liked to meet them.

"Seriously, that cake she made was the best I've ever had," Scott added, patting his stomach. "Plus it's always fun to get the scoop on Charles' childhood."

So his parents were still together and his mom was a great baker, maybe even a housewife since he apparently had so many siblings. From the sound of it, Charlie seemed to have a big, happy family. Of course he did.

"Are your parents gonna visit, (Y/N)?" Scott asked as he refilled his glass of Pumpkin Juice.

An anxious chill scattered across (Y/N)'s neck, traveling all the way down her back and legs. She hoped to God she didn't look as alarmed as she felt, and she shrugged in an attempt to ease some of the tension between her shoulders. "No, my parents and I aren't that close." She kept her tone casual, not wanting anyone to think it was a big deal. "But I'm sure my friends will sometime," she added for good measure. Even though her parents would never come here, Penny, Rowan, Barnaby or Jae might visit her someday.

"Don't you have any siblings that wanna come?" Hank asked, forking the last of his pie into his mouth.

(Y/N) stilled, feeling the color drain from her face. She shouldn't have been surprised. In all honesty, she was more surprised she had managed to make it this long without it coming up. For a split second, she considered lying- it's not like they would know the difference if she said she was an only child. But these guys were her friends, and she didn't want to lie to them.

Swallowing, (Y/N) looked down at her plate and scooped the last of her mashed potatoes onto her spoon. "Unfortunately my brother passed away several years ago."

"Oh shit," Hank said, his blue eyes going wide. "Sorry to hear that."

(Y/N) offered a smile, not wanting anyone to feel uncomfortable. That was always the worst part. "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago."

Hank wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Were you two close?"

"About as close as your average siblings. We loved each other but did our fair share of arguing," (Y/N) said with a laugh. To her relief, Hank and Scott joined in laughing.

"Chloe and I used to torment each other all the time," Hank began before diving into a story of the best prank he ever pulled on his younger sister. (Y/N) let out a breath, grateful that they hadn't made a big deal of it. She was surprised, however, when she turned and found a certain dragon lover's gaze piercing right through her. Had Charlie been staring at her this whole time? Why was he looking at her like that?

(Y/N) kept her focus on Hank and Scott but could feel the redhead's eyes on her for the remainder of dinner. As Hank got to his feet, (Y/N) quickly followed, feeling oddly vulnerable. She desperately hoped her mentor wasn't about to start treating her differently- or worse, about to start asking questions.

"Anyone up for a game of Gobstones or Wizard Chess?" Scott asked, downing the last of his Pumpkin Juice. When his eyes flicked to (Y/N)'s, she shook her head.

"Sorry, but I'm actually going to fly for a bit before it gets too dark. I'll be up in the west wing if you guys need me."

Hank and Scott waved as (Y/N) went to retrieve one of the brooms from the storage shed by Aro. She made a point to not look at Charlie, not wanting to know if the confusing redhead was still staring at her like that.

As (Y/N) disappeared up the hill, Charlie reflexively glanced toward the west wing, the winding pathway and herds of workers just barely visible in the distance.

"Would you look at that," Hank said, stepping up beside him. "Yet another thing in common. You're running out of excuses, Weasley."

Charlie remained silent. He hated whenever Hank was right.

"That nagging voice in the back of your head asking if you should go talk to her?" Hank continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, you should try listening to that for a change."

-

(Y/N) loved flying, but the real reason she was heading to the west wing was to see the Thestrals. The manufacturing team used them to pull carts and even flew on them occasionally since dragons couldn't see them.

As the creatures' resting spot came into view, (Y/N) lowered her broom handle, dismounting gracefully onto the secluded clearing. The area was easily one of the most beautiful and serene that (Y/N) had found at the Sanctuary so far. The sound of water from the creek greeted her ears, the steady stream leading into a dense forest ahead. Not many dragonologists seemed to approach the Thestrals when they were off duty. Whether it was because her coworkers couldn't see them or because of the bad omen myths about them, (Y/N) wasn't sure, but she was more than grateful for it.

Five Thestrals were there, two laying in the grass while the other three stood idly by, stomping their hooves and flapping their bat-like wings occasionally. (Y/N) didn't hesitate to approach the nearest one, watching closely for any sign of protest before stroking it's long, bony muzzle. The Thestral nuzzled his head against her hand, and that emptiness in (Y/N)'s chest vanished in an instant.

She stayed there for awhile, sitting in the grass and petting the creature, letting her mind wander to the Reserve for the first time since she'd been there.

"There you are."

(Y/N) whipped around, startled from her reverie and even more startled to see Charlie come into view, the matching Nimbus 2008 clutched in his right hand.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, assuming one of the dragons needed help for the redhead to come looking for her. "Norberta's wound didn't break open again, did it?"

"No, she's fine." He set the broom down beside hers and pushed his messy hair back away from his face. "Mind if I sit?"

(Y/N) blinked at him, wondering momentarily if she had fallen asleep and was dreaming- not that she had ever dreamed about dragon boy before. "Uh no, of course not."

He sat beside her, resting his forearms on his knees, and (Y/N) became far too aware of just how close he was. Sure, Charlie usually sat by her at the picnic table now ever since their trip to the pub, but it was a big table with plenty of room between the two. As (Y/N) stared down at the redhead's beat up jeans, she estimated less than seven inches between their legs.

"So why'd you come here?" Charlie asked, reaching forward and running a hand along the Thestral's back. "I could have sworn you'd be up on the landing. Took me awhile to spot you down here."

(Y/N) blinked again, her eyes following his hand before darting up to meet his curious gaze. He could see them. He could see the Thestrals. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, using all of her willpower to stay silent. She wanted to know more than anything, but how do you politely ask someone who they had seen die? You didn't.

"I like visiting the Thestrals," she admitted, glancing back to the creature resting on the ground. "Don't get me wrong, I love dragons, but it's an adjustment only seeing one type of creature everyday." (Y/N) frowned as the image of her Hippogriff returned to her mind. "I, uh, left a lot of creatures back in America."

"Oh. Do you miss home?"

A scoff fell from (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop it. As far as she was concerned, home was wherever she was working, meaning the Sanctuary was her home now. She looked up at Charlie and wasn't sure why, but something in those big brown eyes made her confide in him. "This is my home now. Closest thing I've got to one anyway."

Unmistakable sadness flashed across Charlie's features. His eyes were fixed on the Thestral, but (Y/N) could tell his mind was elsewhere. "I lost one of my brothers too," he said quietly.

(Y/N)'s attention snapped back to Charlie and guilt swirled around in her stomach as she recalled her earlier assumption. A big, happy family. No wonder Charlie had been staring at her earlier. He may have had a bigger family, but it was broken just like hers.

"Oh." Her mind filled with questions, but (Y/N) knew the first one to ask. "What was his name?"

"Fred." He went quiet for a moment, and (Y/N) understood- she struggled saying her brother's name for an entire year after losing him. "Yours?"

"Jacob." She waited a minute before asking another question, not wanting to overwhelm him. "Was he older or younger?"

"Younger." The redhead rubbed his forehead with his palm before saying, "He and my brother George were twins. I can't even imagine what he's going through."

(Y/N)'s insides twisted, not only at the inconceivable thought of losing a twin, but also at Charlie's choice of words. I can't even imagine what he's going through. How recently had Fred died? "Can I ask what happened?"

Charlie looked down at her, and the sadness in those eyes made (Y/N)'s heart crumple. "Battle of Hogwarts."

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, her jaw dropping slightly. It had only been a little over a year since the battle. She had read about it of course. Even in America, Voldemort's defeat was all people talked about for months. After Grindelwald, Ilvermorny ensured students knew about Harry Potter and the history of one of the darkest wizards of all time for fear of him invading America. But she had never imagined coming so close to it all. Charlie's brother was amongst the fallen who had fought and died for the rest of the wizarding world. She suddenly felt stupid for not putting the pieces together sooner. Charlie had gone to Hogwarts after all. "Did you fight in the battle too?"

The redhead nodded. "My whole family did."

(Y/N)'s gaze flicked back and forth between the Thestral and Charlie. "That's why you can see them," she whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke the creature's muzzle again. "Did you see him- I mean did you see Fred-" (Y/N)'s voice cracked and she looked away, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes. She hoped he knew what she meant because she didn't think she could get the words out.

"No," he said, and a wave of relief washed through her. "I saw a lot of people die that day, but not my brother. I came in halfway through. I didn't even know he had died until it was all over."

(Y/N) fell silent, unsure of what to say, before deciding to take a risk. She placed her hand on top of his forearm and squeezed, letting her thumb brush comfortingly across his smooth, freckled skin. "I'm really sorry. It's one of the worst feelings in the world and I know nothing I say will make it any better."

Charlie attempted a smile. "You sure? Because talking to you has made it a little better."

It was possibly the worst thing he could have said to her. Butterflies gathered in her stomach and she pulled her hand back, feeling stupider than ever as a smile tried to reach her lips. This conversation was definitely not helping her put an end to the idiotic crush she had begun developing for the redhead.

To make matters even worse, Charlie nudged the side of her knee with his own, causing a cluster of goosebumps to break out down her leg. "Your turn," he said, nodding towards the Thestral.

(Y/N) knew what he meant, but the answer approached dangerous territory. She didn't want to tell him anything, but how could she not after Charlie had finally opened up to her? She just wouldn't tell him the full story.

"My brother was a Curse-Breaker," (Y/N) started, continuing to pet the Thestral. "He went missing while he was at Ilvermorny, and I started looking for him once I got there. It took me awhile to find him, but I eventually did." (Y/N) let out a breath, trying her best to keep the flashbacks from her mind. "But he wasn't the same. He was obsessed with these Cursed Vaults around Ilvermorny and the last one killed him."

Charlie's forehead creased with worry. "You saw him die?"

(Y/N) nodded. "I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. By the time I caught up with him-" (Y/N) broke off and cleared her throat. "Let's just say I wish I hadn't." The sound of thunder began pounding in her ears, and she shut her eyes, giving her head a slight shake as she forced the miserable memory away.

"Life really isn't fair sometimes," he muttered.

"No. But I still think everything happens for a reason."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Charlie let out a sigh, and he was quiet for another moment before whispering, "Does it ever get any easier?"

She looked up at him, wanting him to see the honesty in her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"Good. I'm sorry about your brother, and I'm sorry you had to leave all those creatures behind. I couldn't imagine leaving these dragons."

(Y/N) smiled. "You guys make it a little easier."

That brought a smile to the redhead's face, one of his genuine ones that lit up his eyes and tugged on (Y/N)'s heart. "What creature do you miss the most?"

(Y/N) frowned. "My Hippogriff Sirius. I'd never admit it to the other creatures, but Hippogriffs have always been one of my favorites."

"Sirius?"

She internally cursed herself for mentioning the Hippogriff's name. "Uh, after Sirius Black. I was a bit obsessed with him when his whole story came out. Couldn't imagine being in Azkaban for twelve years as an innocent wizard."

Charlie laughed. "I'm technically related to him."

(Y/N) blinked at him, completely astounded. "What?"

"My dad's mom was a Black."

"Oh," (Y/N) muttered, feeling suddenly embarrassed for some reason. "Small world."

"Yeah, I never got to meet him, but my siblings did because of the Order of the Phoenix and since he was Harry's godfather."

"You mean Harry Potter?" (Y/N) asked rhetorically. She knew that's who he meant because it had been all over the papers how tragic it was that Sirius never got a chance to be the father figure that Harry Potter deserved, but she couldn't resist a laugh. "You talk about him like you're friends."

Charlie seemed the least bit fazed by this. "Well, he is my brother Ron's best friend and has been dating my sister for over two years."

"What?" (Y/N) gaped at him, completely dumbfounded. "You mean the Harry Potter might be your brother-in-law one day and I'm just now hearing about it?"

Charlie laughed. "Sorry, I'm so used to him hanging around my family I forget how some wizards see him."

(Y/N) wanted to understand where he was coming from but just couldn't. It was Harry Freaking Potter they were talking about. That would be like saying meeting Newt Scamander was no big deal. She shook her head, still bewildered. "You're insane."

The pair sat there for a little longer as the sun began to set. When Charlie remained quiet, (Y/N) gave into the question that had been nagging at her since he had told her about Fred. "So does this mean we're friends now? Because to be honest, I feel like I've been getting mixed signals for the past two months."

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hank's been telling me for weeks I need to get over it, but ever since Fred died it's been hard to let people in."

"A lot of people don't understand," (Y/N) said empathetically. "Nobody, not even my friends, knew how to act around me after my brother died."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, a sad smile reaching his lips. "It's nice to finally have someone who gets it. And yeah, I'd say we're friends now."

(Y/N) smiled, feeling jitters dance around her stomach. She paused for a moment before peering up at him. "Well then as your friend, can I ask you a personal question?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What?"

"So I know you love dragons and all, but you're not like into them, are you?" She bit back laughter at the look on the redhead's face.

He shook his head, laughing a bit too. "Funny. Real funny. Did Hank tell you to ask me that?"

"No…" She bit her lip, unsure how truthful she should be. "A certain blonde may have accused you of being more attracted to dragons than women."

The redhead rolled his eyes but didn't seem the least bit offended. "I swear my dating life- or lack thereof- has been of more interest to people around here than I would have ever imagined."

(Y/N) laughed, and luckily stopped herself from saying, "Can you blame them?" The last thing she was going to do was to admit to Charlie just how good looking and talented he was. "You don't have to talk about it. It's really nobody's business."

Charlie shrugged. "There's just not much to tell. I was pretty much consumed by dragons at Hogwarts. I didn't even have a crush on anyone until my last year."

That wasn't weird. People were allowed to be picky or have other priorities. "Did you two end up dating?"

"Yeah. But it was pretty stupid because I knew I was going to Romania and she was staying close to home."

"Ah."

"So then I came here and was primarily focused on work. And it's not like there was an abundance of options around."

(Y/N) nodded slowly, arguing internally on whether or not to ask the next thought that popped into her head. After a moment, she decided to go for it. "And what about Sydney?"

Charlie shrugged again. "She's nice, I just never felt comfortable around her. She didn't really understand the whole dragon obsession. This is just a job for her. Probably why she made that comment."

(Y/N) wanted to ask if he felt comfortable around her but realized how it would sound in that context. The last thing she wanted was for Charlie to think she was flirting with him. She was not about to ruin their new friendship. "Well, she doesn't know what she's missing. This has easily been the best job I've ever had."

"How many have you had?" Charlie said with a laugh, sounding surprised. "I thought you were a Magizoologist before this?"

(Y/N)'s smile faltered. "I was, but only for the last two years. I, uh, moved around a lot after my brother died. Had quite a few different jobs after graduation."

"Like what?"

"Healer, Potioneer, Wandmaker, and a couple others," (Y/N) muttered with a shrug.

"But you graduated the same year I did. Did you really have a new job every year?"

(Y/N) felt nervous being put on the spot. "No, I told you I spent two years at the Reserve." She elbowed him playfully in attempt to lighten the mood, but he frowned.

"So the longest you've ever stayed somewhere is two years? Does that mean…" Charlie didn't finish the sentence but he didn't have to.

Stomach acid churned in (Y/N)'s belly at the thought of leaving the Sanctuary. "I don't know to be honest. Like I said, this is the best job I've ever had, so you might have a harder time getting rid of me."

This seemed to reassure the redhead. He smiled at her, and (Y/N) knew she was doomed because all she could think about was that it seemed like Charlie didn't want her to leave, and that thought made her way happier than it should have.

Eyeing the darkening sky, Charlie said, "Race you back to the village?" Before she even responded, he was standing up and picking up his broom.

"Hey, you cheater!" (Y/N) called as the redhead kicked off the ground just as she reached her broom. She darted up after him, heading back home, and couldn't help but think that this was going to be the start of one of the best friendships she would ever have.

-

October and November came and went even faster than the previous months, and (Y/N) couldn't believe how much fun she was having with team. She felt entirely comfortable around all of them now and hung out with Charlie all the time. She was sure, however, to set specific boundaries for herself, not wanting her ridiculous crush to get out of hand. She was hoping it would disappear altogether soon enough and there would be nothing to worry about.

When the first snowfall of the season came one December morning, (Y/N) couldn't wait to visit the dragons and see just how glorious the Sanctuary's scenery looked.

"Hurry up," she groaned as Scott and Hank took longer than usual to get going. Charlie, on the other hand, didn’t disappoint and seemed as ready as he always was. He was definitely a morning person.

"I thought we agreed to start later in the winter," Scott grumbled mid yawn, pulling a hat onto his head and rubbing his hands over the sleeves of his coat. "It's bloody freezing out here."

"The sooner we start, the sooner we get hot cocoa," Hank pointed out even though he too looked less enthused about working.

They started with Gertie and Aro first, feeding them and making sure they had enough areas to stay warm. Most dragons could handle the severe weather due to their love of mountainous regions, but they weren't entirely immune to illness and overall irritation from the drastic change. Certain breeds in particular seemed to handle the frigid climate better than others, and that became clear as they approached Odie, the Antipodean Opaleye.

"Boy he's cranky," Hank said after dodging a second blast of fire from the agitated beast. Odie was refusing to let anyone feed him or even step within 50 feet of him.

Charlie laughed as he guided the raw sheep meat back onto the ground several yards away from Odie. "You probably would be too if you were from Australia."

"True." Hank stepped away from the rock he had hid behind, his eyes never leaving Odie in case another burst of flames came his way.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," (Y/N) began, eyeing the purple patch covering the dragon's right ear, "but I think it's more than him just not liking the weather. I think he's developed frostbite from it."

"Shit," Scott grunted as his gaze followed (Y/N)'s. "I told you guys we should have made them wait until Spring to ship him here."

Hank slid his wand back into his pocket and turned to Charlie. "Guess I should go nag the research team to help us stun him. Should I get Logan or Felix to heal it?"

Charlie looked from Odie's ear to (Y/N). "Can you do it?"

(Y/N) craned her neck to see the full span of the injury. "If I can somehow get within five or so feet of him then yeah."

"Five feet?" Hank pointed out, quirking an eyebrow.

(Y/N) groaned in exasperation. They loved mocking her American ways. "One and a half meters, whatever. I think you should use the freezing charm instead though."

"Are you mad?" Scott spat.

"If we stun him we risk him not eating for another hour. Dehydration and starvation will only make the frostbite and his attitude worse."

"Can't we use the body-bind curse instead?" Scott asked. "I'd feel far better about you getting so close if he was more restrained."

"And traumatize him while he's hurting?" (Y/N) asked, flinching at the idea.

Scott turned to Hank, clearly looking for backup, but the forty-three year old shrugged and started toward the pathway. "It's your funeral, darlin'."

Five minutes later, Hank came back with Logan and Dave to help with the charm. "Six of us should do it, don'tcha think?"

The rest of them nodded. Half a dozen were usually plenty to subdue a more timid breed like Odie.

"You sure you want to do this?" Charlie asked, handing (Y/N) his gloves. "It's not exactly the safest task in the world."

She smiled at him, sliding the brown material over her hands. "If I wanted safe, I hardly would have picked this career."

He chuckled, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "I've got your back."

(Y/N) hated when Charlie made comments like that. They were crossing far too many of her boundaries and made her insides tingle in a way she wished it wouldn't. Still, she put on another smile and withdrew her wand. "You better."

The six of them lined up and waited for Odie to lay down. As soon as he was comfortably resting on the snow-covered ground ahead, they all shouted, "Immobulus!"

(Y/N) darted forward, unsure of exactly how much time she had, and moved to the dragon's right side, staying as far away from his mouth as possible. With a complicated wave of her wand, she used the hot-air charm first, letting a gentle mist of steam warm the affliction. As soon as the proper pearl color returned to Odie's ear, she performed two healing charms on the injured ear and one charm on the opposing ear to prevent it from facing the same fate later.

"Hurry up," Scott warned. "Or we'll have to do it again."

"No, I'm good," (Y/N) said, catching sight of the slightest movement of the dragon's arms. Just as she stepped back, Odie unfroze completely, standing up and flapping his wings. (Y/N) was almost out of the danger zone until his giant white tail flicked once behind him, hitting her thighs and sending her falling backwards. She winced as her back hit the ground, knocking the wind out of her momentarily and shooting her wand into the air. Luckily, the snow helped ease her fall and she recovered quickly, automatically reaching her hand out and saying, "Accio wand."

Big mistake. Odie's gaze hungrily followed the wand as it flew through the air, clearly mistaking it for potential food. As the wand landed in its owner's hand, Odie's eyes darkened, just now spotting (Y/N) and how close she was.

Knowing no one would be able to subdue or distract him in time, (Y/N) moved faster than she had ever moved before, scrambling behind the only boulder in sight as the Antipodean Opaleye sent a rush of flames her way. She overheard the men in the background attempting to extinguish the blast, but they could only manage to lessen the blow. She ducked as close to the snow as humanly possible, but she was so worried about her head, she forgot to move the hand resting against the rock. Pain seared the back of her left hand as the flames reached the glove, and she jerked it away, tucking her whole body behind the boulder. When she heard Scott and Hank taming Odie, she relaxed, sitting up and yanking off the glove to examine the reddened, already blistering skin. Their gloves protected them as much as possible but could only do so much against such direct contact with fire.

A familiar head of red hair came into view as Charlie crouched down beside her. "You okay?"

"Almost," she said before letting out a sigh of relief as she rested the back of her hand into the snow. She couldn't help but laugh a little, still feeling jolts of adrenaline course through her body. "Would you think I'm utterly insane if I said I'm even a little excited about my first potential scar here?"

A grin spread across Charlie's freckled face. "Not one bit." He stood back up and extended a hand to her. "Come on, let's get that cleaned up."

(Y/N)'s hand started feeling better after burn-healing paste was applied. She continued working for the rest of the day while Hank and Scott profusely commended her readiness and ability to stay calm.

"I could have sworn you were gonna lose your eyebrows like Scott did his first year," Hank had said, ruffling Scott's hair while Scott jerked away.

"It was only one eyebrow and that only happened one time."

The team retired early and (Y/N) was in her kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea and trying to ignore the occasional twinge in her hand, when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called, and she was instantly annoyed by the flip in her stomach as Charlie's silhouette came into view. He was wearing a knitted crimson sweater she had never seen before with a dragon embroidered in the middle. None of them wore nice clothes much since they were usually out on the field, and she tried to avert her eyes, not wanting to admit to herself how well it suited him.

"Figured you could probably use some more of this," he said, closing the door behind him and setting a fresh bottle of the burn-healing paste onto the table.

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. "Want a cup of tea?" His eyes glanced uncertainly to the auburn liquid steaming in her teacup and she laughed. "Relax, I have milk and sugar if you want it."

He smiled. "Sure then."

"You Brits are weird," she muttered, moving toward the kettle as Charlie took a seat on the wooden loveseat off to the left and let his eyes wander around her place. The pair had hung out a lot, but not so much in each others' houses, and (Y/N) suddenly felt nervous.

She poured a second cup of tea and grabbed the burn-healing paste from the table before joining Charlie in the section of the room that would be considered the living room. She did, however, decide to sit in the chair adjacent to the loveseat. Boundaries.

"Thanks," he said, accepting the mug from her and leaning back into the cushioned seat. "You did really great today."

"All in a day's work," she said casually, feigning boastfulness with a shrug of her shoulders.

He laughed and set the teacup down on the coffee table in front of them. "You gonna put more of that on or am I going to have to do it for you?" he asked, indicating the bottle next to his mug.

Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries, (Y/N) repeated over and over in her head. As much as she hated to admit it, the tiniest part of her understood what Sydney had meant. Charlie was a little clueless when it came to how words and actions could be interpreted. "Okay, mom."

"I just know how much it hurts going on at first."

He wasn't wrong. It stung like a bitch the first time she applied it after the incident, but she wasn't about to admit that. She had a relatively high pain tolerance and was a little too prideful when it came to her resilience. "It's not that bad."

"Oh really?" He picked up the bottle and offered it to her. "Go ahead then."

She stared at it, trying to convince herself that it was like ripping off a bandage, but in the end she didn't want to do it.

Charlie grinned. "That's what I thought." He opened the bottle and poured some of the potion onto his palm.

"What are you doing?"

The redhead moved in front of her, sitting on the edge of the coffee table before reaching for her hand. "Doing it for you. We need your hand better before Monday."

The word BOUNDARIES blared in (Y/N)'s head like a siren, complete with flashing red lights, bells and whistles. She pulled her arm away, attempting a laugh. "I can do it myself," she insisted, trying to snatch the bottle away from him.

This didn't seem to deter him in the slightest. He just stared at her, a half smile on his lips. "And people say I'm stubborn."

She kept her eyes locked on his, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.

"Technically it's only fair,” he added, “considering I let you help me.”

Shit. That son of a bitch cornered her. She glowered at Charlie, feeling defeated as she pulled her sleeve up and extended her left arm.

"Was that so hard?" he asked right as he brushed the potion across the back of her hand, making (Y/N) wince as the orange paste fought to heal her burned flesh. The pain lasted no longer than a minute though and was soon replaced by jolts of electricity at Charlie's touch.

It was less than five minutes before Charlie screwed the cap on the potion and set it back onto the table, but (Y/N) was more concerned with the fact that he didn't return to the couch. Instead, he pointed to the scar along her forearm. "I've wondered how you got that for awhile now."

"Oh, I had to fight off a Chimera once. He got a good slash in but don't worry, I won." Her gaze instinctively flicked to his eyebrow. Her rules were screaming at her to resist the urge, but he had touched her hand first. It was only fair. She reached up, briefly brushing the pad of her thumb across the small scar that separated his left brow. "Your turn."

The redhead cracked a smile, raising his own hand up to touch the scar. "Why does everyone have to ask about this one? It's actually the least exciting of them all."

"Try me."

"Okay… my brother Bill and I wanted to try and play Quidditch once when we were little. He started teasing me, saying there was no way I could ride an adult broom, so I took it from him. Needless to say I fell, but I actually would say I did fairly well considering I was only five."

(Y/N) laughed, unable to ignore how cute a stubborn five year old Charlie had to have been. "No fair. I can't believe you got to ride on a broom that young. My mom would have had my head."

Charlie laughed. "I never said I didn't get in trouble for it."

The pair talked for a little while longer before (Y/N) said, "I like your sweater by the way."

Charlie arched a brow, following her gaze and pinching the knitted material between his fingertips. "You mean jumper?"

"Ugh, whatever." (Y/N) let her head fall back against the chair and Charlie chuckled. At least it wasn't as bad as finding out Brits thought you were talking about underwear when you said pants. (Y/N) had reiterated the word trousers until it stuck in her mind for good. “Where’d you get it?”

The redhead looked a little embarrassed. "Uh, my mum made it."

That was probably the cutest thing (Y/N) had ever heard in her life and she didn’t know which was worse- the fact that Mrs. Weasley was perfect enough to knit her children sweaters or the fact that Charlie was the type of son who actually wore them. "When are you leaving to go see them?"

"Probably a few days before Christmas. I usually stay for about a week."

(Y/N) hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. She knew Hank and Scott were going to be there, but she was going to miss Charlie.

"Are any of your friends coming to visit you?"

(Y/N) frowned. "Not until early next year. A lot of them are stuck at work or visiting their own families."

Charlie nodded and looked like he had something else he wanted to say.

"What?"

He peered up at her, and if (Y/N) wasn't mistaken, a subtle tinge of pink highlighted his freckled face. "You could come to the Burrow with me if you want."

(Y/N)'s heart stopped. As her mind caught up with his offer, she waved a hand at him. "Oh no, that's okay. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine here."

Much to her dismay, however, Charlie didn't let it go like she thought he would. "It really wouldn't be a big deal. There's already nearly a dozen of us so there's always plenty of food. And to be honest, Christmas is a bit dismal here at the Sanctuary."

(Y/N) had no doubt that Christmas would be disappointing here, but this was exactly the sort of cluelessness she had been referring to. Charlie was just being a nice friend, she told herself, refusing to let the offer go to her head. But why was he asking her and not Hank or Scott?

No. She was overthinking it. Maybe he had asked Hank and he had said no because Chloe was visiting. And she already knew Scott said he would hang back to help Hank with the dragons. Maybe he asked the team every year and it was no big deal.

"Uh, I don't know… I'm not sure I could handle meeting Harry Potter. I'd probably embarrass the hell out of myself."

Charlie laughed. "If either of us stands to be embarrassed it would be me. My siblings live to humiliate one another."

(Y/N) fell silent, trying to ignore just how much she would love a chance to meet his family.

"Are you really going to say no to me two days before my birthday?"

"Hey, that's not fair," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I think it is. Think of it as a birthday present."

Why was he being so persistent? This was crossing dozens of boundaries. The last thing she needed to do was fall in love with his family. "What if I already got you a present?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "I told you guys not to."

"No, you told us not to buy anything," she corrected before standing up and walking over to her dresser. She opened the bottom drawer, withdrawing a neatly folded sweater before returning to Charlie. "My team gave me this after the Bludger I hit stopped the other team's Seeker and won us the House Cup." She held up the striped blue sweater, showing off the Snitch darting around the center of it. "I never wore it much because let's face it, two Bludgers moving around on it would have been much cooler, but I thought you might like it. I was going to turn it red for Gryffindor and use the enlargement charm on it."

Charlie stared at her, smiling one of those damn smiles- the ones she had become strongly opposed to because of the way they made her feel. "Can I see it on?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows narrowed inquisitively, but for some reason she obliged, tugging the sweater on over her long sleeve shirt. "Well?"

"I have one word for you," Charlie said, his appreciative smile replaced by an alarmingly playful expression. "Run."

(Y/N)'s eyes grew wide and she darted toward the front door, swinging it open just as the redhead started after her.

After managing to somehow not kill herself on the slushy porch steps, (Y/N) ran toward the west wing, knowing the exact path to take to avoid any dragons. "You're insane," she called as she heard the redhead’s footsteps behind her, but she couldn't restrain a giggle. Pushing past a tall patch of brush, (Y/N) made her way toward the manufacturing team, passing by crates full of dragon-hide gloves and boxes of dragon heartstrings. She tried to slow him down by knocking a couple empty boxes back toward him, but Charlie easily sidestepped them.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that," he said, laughing as he gained in on her.

(Y/N) was panting hard by now, not used to breathing the cold air into her lungs. She kept running though, set on where she was headed, but her plan came to a screeching halt as the path she was intending to follow was covered with a pile of shoveled snow.

Before she could start running again, Charlie caught up with her, and just as she had anticipated, he tackled her onto the powdery mound of snow.

Neither could stop laughing as they landed in the pile, which was nearly deep enough to consume them both. It wasn't until (Y/N) had wiped the snow from her face and opened her eyes that her laughter died out.

"Gotcha," Charlie said, grinning down at her. He was bracing himself on his forearms to prevent from crushing her, and his face was so close- less than five inches from her own, making her go slightly dizzy. She dropped her head back into the snow, letting her eyelids flutter shut as she tried to steady her racing heartbeat- which was only racing because of all the running.

"Fine, you win," she said, and (Y/N) was more than relieved to feel the twenty-six year old collapse onto the ground next to her. She chanced a glance at him, but it wasn't much better. She still felt every urge to kiss him. "I'll go with you."

The redhead grinned at her, still panting slightly from the running. "Good. I prefer the jumper on you anyways."

(Y/N) knew Charlie just enjoyed messing with her and showing off his Seeker abilities, but that didn't stop her from wishing he meant something else by that.

Yep. She was completely and utterly doomed.

[caffeinatedcambion]

Consequences of Comfort

A side story pertaining to a role-playing game I am playing with my gaming group, Bushido:  Heroes of Japan.  The game is set in an alternate version of the Sengoku Era of Japan in which Oda Nobunaga did not seek to unify Japan, but instead became a tyrannical overlord, Akechi Mitsuhide was his adopted son, a cult-like religion that has deified Nobunaga has sprung up and led to the outlawing of any contradicting religious doctrines, and several clans that were once allies have chosen to defy Nobunaga’s rule after witnessing his decimation of the Takeda and Sanada clans.  

The locations may not be entirely accurate as I wrote this very quickly one evening and have not had the time to correct any misinformation.  I’ll update it in the future. 

A prequel to Chapter 0 of Bushido, this story follows Genji-roh, known more commonly as Genji, and his apprentice-turned-partner Hiromi.

To Genji, the idea of playing bodyguard to a gaggle of noble women as they shopped and tittered about the city of Yonezawa had even less appeal than if he were to have bamboo splinters shoved under his toenails.  Yet there he was, standing in the street two lengths back as the five women gazed through shop windows and whispered to each other behind lacquered fans.  At his side was the culprit behind his newfound misery, his retainer (and unbeknownst to anyone else, apprentice) Hiromi.  While the prospect of a salary that was guaranteed compared to the odd jobs he had been used to, bodyguard was never high on his list of jobs as it was often cumbersome, bound him to a location for far too long, and above all, boring.  Hiromi was well aware of this, having been by Genji's side for nearly six years now, and gone behind his back to discuss their service to the lord that had employed them, Lord Katakura Kojuro of the Date clan. Genji admitted that he was impressed by Hiromi's ability to sell the both of them so highly, being that they had quite the disadvantage what with Hiromi’s childish face and being barely sixteen and Genji's mixed blood, his pale blonde hair and blue eye a dead giveaway.  He wondered what the little imp had said to convince Lord Kojuro, but it was enough to guarantee the both of them work for what he assumed would most likely be an indefinite period as the Date had greatly risen in power thanks to the frightening reputation of their patriarch, Date Masamune.  However, there was always the chance the clan might fall and their lands claimed by Nobunaga's armies, the Lord of Hell's tyrannical grip on the country growing stronger at every turn as his supporters grew.  Genji wondered how much longer the alliance of the Toyotomi, Tokugawa, and Date clans would last when faced with Nobunaga's encroaching reign.  He had made an example of the Sanada and Takeda clans, the Uesugi slowly losing power as the months passed.  

The realization made him pause for a moment as he eyed the town.  It was a bustling but peaceful place, made all the better by a fierce but generous lord and for a very brief moment he felt the smallest hint of sadness.  His gaze then shifted back to the women he was supposed to be monitoring.

The Date women he had been assigned to watch were the five daughters of Date Masamune.  From what Hiromi had told him, all the daughters, save for the second eldest, were already promised to different lords and retainers serving the Toyotomi-Tokugawa-Date alliance which made them prime targets for rival clans to kidnap and barter as hostages.  Genji hoped they would be lucky enough that the women would all depart soon for their husbands so he could leave the Oshu region and continue his aimless wandering.  As his gaze settled on the women, he focused on one in particular as she trailed behind her sisters.  In place of a fan, she carried a small book that she had yet to look up from, something he had noticed during the entirety of their afternoon excursion.  Of the daughters, she was the only one to still be dressed in a furisode, the long sleeves waving gently in the autumn breeze.  Part of him admired the keeping with tradition, but another part assumed she was perhaps boring compared to her sisters.  A chaste woman, no doubt. He did not entirely care, having met the women during a brief introduction by Lord Masamune's cousin, Lord Shigezane before his departure to join his lord at the front against the Ashina.  Genji had taken pains to clean himself up, mostly at Hiromi's insistence, and donned a clean set of robes before meeting the daughters.  

“Master Genji-roh will be supervising the lot of you. So please do as he asks should he deem your safety in jeopardy.”  Lord Shigezane had explained as Genji bowed and settled his single-eyed gaze upon the women.  The disgust in their faces had been immediate as they scanned him over; no doubt noting his missing eye hidden by a slip of leather, the leather armament on his left hand with jointed wooden prosthetic serving in place of his missing ring and little fingers, and finally his blonde hair and noticeably foreign features.  While he still had the quintessential almond-shaped eyes inherited by his mother, the striking blue color wrought by the man that had sired him further entrenched him in his status as an undesirable.  He resisted the urge to sigh at their reaction until he noticed the intensely interested gaze of one of the women.  Hers was the only name he had bothered to remember, the pure fascination in her face marked by the part of her lips as if a series of questions rested on her tongue.

She was Irohahime, the second eldest of the Date daughters.  The look in her eyes had unnerved him, but he had refused to break her gaze until she looked away to hide her face behind her sleeve; realizing she had been staring.  He quietly scoffed at her reaction and while he appreciated her lack of outright disgust compared to the other sisters, he assumed her reaction was that of morbid fascination.  A fascination akin to seeing one of the oddities found in those horrifying traveling carnivals he had heard rumors about.  It was nothing new in his world and he was inwardly relieved when the meeting ended and he had been free to make his way back to the servants quarters, though not fast enough that he was able to miss the women's cutting words as they complained to their father's cousin, though Lord Shigezane met their criticisms with jovial mockery.  Genji had nearly exited the main house until he sensed a presence behind him and turned abruptly to confront his follower.  It had been Lady Irohahime, her eyes going wide by his reaction.

“Oh, I apologize.  Have I disturbed you?”  She asked curiously.

“Is there something you need, my lady?” He asked, the formality feeling wholly unfamiliar on his tongue.  Her eyes lowered and he caught the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks.

“It may sound silly, Master Genji-roh, but I felt the need to thank you for the pains you have taken to watch my sisters and I.”  She explained and gave him a polite bow.  “I know my sisters can be... sharp with their criticisms.”  He eyed her suspiciously though some small part of him appreciated that she had noticed his discomfort.

“Is that all you need of me, my lady?” He asked curtly.  A wariness flashed in her eyes and she seemed to regard him with a different kind of interest.

“Yes.  Thank you, Master Genji-roh.” She said, bowing again.  He returned her bow and left the house.

Part of him regretted his sharpness with her.  He supposed she had truly been trying to make him feel a bit more welcome in his new benefactor's house after such a cold reception from her siblings, but he had no need for his wards to become close with him.

Softness wrought weakness.

It was a tenet he had done well to remember when he had been among his fellow shinobi, more so after his expulsion.

The first week in the Date castle had been a trial as he and Hiromi were forced to attend to the women from dawn to dusk wherever they wished to go. A majority of the time was spent simply following the women as they shopped or dined in the city and it did not take long for the boredom to begin wearing at Genji's patience.

A series of shouts piqued his ears, pulling him from his thoughts, his hand on his sword in less than a second.  His eye focused back on the Date women and he quickly closed the distance between himself and the group, his eye now searching the crowd for the source of the yelling.  The crowd thickened as they approached the source of the noise until it abruptly stopped, blocking the road. The women began to whisper to each other and looked up when Genji approached them.

“Stay where you are.” He ordered as he moved in front of the women.  “Hiromi.”   The one word order needed no elaboration and the youth quickly took Genji's place at guarding the women.  Genji slid past the crowd to assess whatever danger might be in their path once he felt the women were secure.  In the middle of the throng a ring had formed and the shouting came from men and women jeering at what Genj saw was a fist fight.  The two men, not so evenly matched as one man was clearly larger and more heavily muscled than the other, traded blows with little awareness for the crowd they had attracted.  Genji sighed and his hand left his sword, instead sliding into his robes as he observed the fight.  Despite the difference in size and strength, the smaller man was holding his own but it was obvious he would lose very soon unless luck favored him. He was already suffering from a busted lip, one eye swelling shut, and a reddening bruise at his side indicating he had been dealt a blow to his ribs.  As he surveyed the crowd, Genji noted that several observers had begun placing bets on the fight.  He twisted his lips in consideration and looked back at the Date women.  They seemed to have realized what had attracted the crowd and their familiar, shared disgust was apparent as they complained to each other.  Through the din of the crowd, he caught the words “degenerates”, “savages”, and “low class”.  It amused him greatly until he realized one of the women was missing and his mirth vanished.  Irohahime was not among her sisters and he quickly scanned the crowd for her blue and silver furisode.  He found her faster than he expected as she had pushed through the crowd to observe the fight.  His relief was brief, quickly replaced by baffled concern when he saw the expression on her face.  Her eyes were so transfixed on the fight she did not notice the crowd jostling her and he wondered if she would even notice if he put his own hands on her.  It was not a look of disgust but the same morbid fascination he had observed before, but it disturbed Genji enough that he felt it appropriate to urge her back to her sisters.  Before he could reach out to her, she seemed to break from her reverie and realized he had been watching her.  A blush rose on her cheeks and she hid her face with her sleeve as she spun towards her sisters and hurried away from the shouts of the crowd.  Genji watched her for a moment until a collective roar had his eye back on the fight.  The “underdog” seemed to have had fate turn in his favor as he had landed a jaw breaking punch to the larger man and reduced him to an unconscious heap of twisted limbs and oozing blood.  Coins were traded among the crowd, the jeering having turned to triumphant whoops or bitter muttering.  Genji could not help noting the amount of money that changed hands and began to entertain a new idea until Hiromi called out to him.

“Master Genji!  The Date women have expressed the desire to return to the castle.”  Hiromi explained and Genji reluctantly looked at his apprentice then let out a petulant sigh.  

“As you wish.” He answered and joined his apprentice to escort the women away.  He cast a final look back at the crowd and took note of several men talking to the underdog of the fight.  Careful to remember their faces and the design on their robes, Genji had a sneaking suspicion that the lord of Oshu was possibly unaware of the criminal underbelly of the city.  A smirk pulled at his lips as his gaze returned to watching over the Date women, the idea he had entertained mere moments ago becoming cemented in the back of his mind.

Barely five days had passed and Genji had become consumed by a restless boredom.  The days had begun to bleed into one another with the same tired routine; he and Hiromi would wake at dawn, eat with the servants, patrol the grounds while the Date women started their own morning routine of bathing, dressing, and eating and once they had finished, the two would recover their charges.  The remainder of the day would be spent taking turns patrolling the castle while the other kept watch over the women until late afternoon came and they were escorted inside for afternoon tea and lunch.  That would be the only break for Genji and Hiromi during their tenure as bodyguards through the day and they would be free to dine for an hour in the servants quarters until it was time to return to the women. Once evening fell, if the women chose to remain in the castle, they would continue their patrolling and watching until the sun dipped below the horizon and the women joined their mother and younger siblings and the retainers for dinner.  Genji did not enjoy the evening meals as the retainers were a boisterous lot, pouring sake amongst themselves as they argued over politics, strategy, or the movements of rival clans.  It irked him in particular as one of the stipulations he had been duped into following as per his employment to Lord Masamune was that he would not imbibe any substances that could hinder his ability to respond to danger.  Hiromi had been cautious to leave that bit out when Genji had taken the job and he had taken great pains to let his apprentice know how much he did not appreciate being tricked.  With that in mind, he eyed Hiromi from the corner of his eye and felt some satisfaction when the youth switched hands when trying to hold a bowl of rice once it started to shake from a weakened grip.

“Wrist still bothering you?  What a shame.” His tone was pitiless and Hiromi fixed him with a sharp glare.

“Think my pain is funny, do you?  I'll have to remember that breaking children's wrists is what makes you laugh.”

“Breaking and dislocating are two different things. Consider it part of your training next time you try to escape from me.” Genji replied flippantly as he finished his bowl.  “Besides, you'll heal quickly enough.”

“Bastard.”  Hiromi hissed as the bowl slipped from the unfamiliar grip and landed noisily on the table.  The clatter was loud enough over the din that it drew the attention of a few of the Date women and Genji avoided their judging eyes until he felt a stare linger longer than the others.  When he finally looked up, he was not surprised to find Irohahime was eyeing him.  When their eyes met, it was not judgment in her gaze but the same distant but unmistakable fascination she had had while watching the fight days before.  They held each other's gaze longer than was surely appropriate and Genji was annoyed with himself when he was the first to break it, muttering a curse under his breath.

“What is it?” Hiromi asked and looked at the Date women curiously.  Irohahime looked away quickly when she realized Hiromi was watching her and the youth gave Genji a puzzled look. “Did you do something?”  Genji sighed and took a deep gulp of his tea.

“No, but there's something odd about that one.” He explained.  “Can't quite put my finger on it.”  Hiromi's gaze shifted back to the women.  A silence hung between them, filled by the noise of the gossiping retainers.

“Well whatever it is, it doesn't matter to us.  Just keep doing your job.”  Hiromi said, taking a sip of tea.  Genji scoffed.

“What job?  Babysitting?  I'd rather be tending a failing rice farmer's paddy than this.  At least I would be getting some exercise out of it.” He complained, his eye narrowing at the retainers as they cracked open another barrel of sake.  “Or at least a drink.”

“Stop whining,” Hiromi said sharply, “be grateful for once.  We barely have to do anything and we're being paid more gold than we've seen in years.  Plus, we have a place to sleep with an actual roof.  No surprise summer squalls or bandits thinking to try their luck.”  The youth snapped.  Genji sighed and pulled his gaze from the opened barrel, the alluring scent of alcohol teasing his nose.

“Hardly worth it.”  He muttered as he went back to finishing his dinner.

With the women retired for the night and their final patrol complete, Genji and Hiromi were left to spend the rest of the evening in the servants quarters.  The door cracked open, Genji stared aimlessly at the night sky while on his side as Hiromi pulled out a set of papers with an ink well and a brush along with a large book.  There was silence between master and apprentice for a long time, the only sound being the scratch of the brush on paper.

“I don't know what this word is.”  Hiromi said with a tone of defeat.  Genji assumed his apprentice had tried reading the characters phonetically, but had stumbled upon something new and unfamiliar when mouthing the sounds had not helped.

“Try saying it out loud like I taught you.”  Genji said, his gaze still on the sky.  Hiromi was quiet, but moments later Genji heard the intonation of sounds.  It took a moment, but he realized what the word was and waited until Hiromi finished struggling to make sense of the sounds.

“It's 'scandal',” Genji explained.  “It means immoral behavior that causes public outrage.”

“I don't understand.  What does that mean?  What's immoral behavior?”  Hiromi asked.  The older man made an interested noise and rolled over to face the youth, his head propped up with one hand.

“All this time and I didn't consider that where you come from, an event like that probably doesn't occur in the same sense you would understand it.”  Genji realized and twisted his mouth in interest.  “Imagine someone you respect does something that makes you upset or disgusts you.  Now imagine everyone around you feels the same way about that person and they are not quiet about it.  The event is so distressing to the public, that the person, or persons, that are part of the scandal have lost any good reputation they might have had.  That's what a 'scandal' is.”  Hiromi considered his words for a long time until finally speaking.

“But you're already disgusting and I find most of what you do upsetting.”  Hiromi said.  Genji was stunned and looked at his apprentice.  The youth seemed to realize what had been said, ears turning red then redder as Genji let out a triumphant laugh.

“So that's how it is!  Always so cold and mean but deep down, you've accepted me as your respected master!”  He let out another laugh and Hiromi's fists clenched in further embarrassment.  

“You're the worst!  You're supposed to be helping me learn to read, not mock me!”  Hiromi cried out angrily.  Genji's laughter settled when he heard the pain behind the anger in his apprentice's voice.

“There, there I'm hardly mocking you,” he said and lifted himself from the floor.  He dropped heavily next to the youth and threw an arm around Hiromi's neck.  Hiromi did not fight as Genji's grip turned to a hug.  Genji tousled the youth's hair before pulling away.

“I'm simply pleased to have earned respect from my dear apprentice.”  He mused and Hiromi scoffed.

“Not for much longer...”  The voice was still bitter with embarrassment.

“I've no doubt.”  Genji said and stood up.  “Keep at your reading until you can't keep your eyes open.  Anything that doesn't make sense, write it down and I'll explain it in the morning.”  He slid on his sandals and slipped his wakizashi into his sash.

“Wait, what?  Where are you going?”  Hiromi asked when the door slid open.

“I need to stretch my legs.  Don't worry, I'm not going to be wasting any money.  I just need to be a little active for a bit.”  He explained and could feel the doubt in Hiromi's eyes as the youth’s stare bored into his back.  “I'll be back, stop acting so nervous.”  Genji gave no further explanation and slid the door shut.  

Leaving the servants quarters, Genji made his way across the expanse of the castle grounds to find the outer gardens.  He had noted the trees that had been free to grow along one section of wall during his patrols and had taken care to mention their liability of penetration should assassins come in the night.  Thankfully, his suggestion had not been acted upon yet as the trees were still along the wall and he made use of them to escape the grounds.  Free from the confines of the Date castle, he made his way to the city and the late hour became meaningless to him.  The population was vast thanks to the successes of the Date clan and it was not long until Genji found himself in the seedier parts of the city.  A familiar urge tugged at him when he entered the red light district, but it was not for want of a companion to warm his bed.  A smell he was far too well acquainted with met his nose and he paused, his eye falling on a doorway framed by heavy red curtains.  A woman stood outside the building and beckoned to him.

“There's still a spot open.  Two pieces of gold gets you three hours and a full pipe.”  She urged.  Genji was tempted, his fingers brushing against the gold pieces in his sleeve.

“Not tonight I'm afraid.” He said after a long pause and continued his way down the street.  It took some time, but eventually he was able to find what he was looking for.  A group of men stood in front of a large gambling hall, whispering to each other, but Genji recognized the symbol on their sleeves as the one belonging to the men encircling the brawlers from days ago.  He drew up his hood to hide his face and approached the men, clearing his throat loudly to draw their attention.

“Evening, what would it cost me to enter this fine establishment?” He asked, keeping his face low.  The men turned, their conversation interrupted, and eyed Genji with distaste.

“The door's over there.  Figure it out for yourself.”  One of the men barked.

“I'm not looking to play at dice,” Genji said and eyed the man that had tried to dismiss him.  “I want to play at that game I saw in the streets not too long ago.  That game that has your knuckles bruised.”  The men fell quiet and looked to each other before shifting their gaze back to Genji.

“Watching or participating?”  The man asked.

“Participating, please.  What are my odds?”  There was an strange cheer in his voice that had the men looking at each other questioningly again before the man with the bruised knuckles replied.

“That depends if you survive the first round.”  He gestured with his thumb to an alley.  “Have to place a bet if you want to participate.  Someone'll tell you the rules once you're inside.”

“Thank you kindly.”  Genji said with a bow and disappeared down the alley.  A large man with arms crossed stood in front of a door near the middle of the alley and he looked up as Genji approached.

“Evening sir, been told I have to place a bet to play.”  He said jovially.  The man sniffed and rubbed his nose with a thick finger.

“Lowest you can bet is one piece.  No weapons, but anything goes excluding biting and eye gouging.  Take off your outer clothes before you get into the ring or you're not allowed in at all. We don't have the patience to deal with anyone sniffing around here wondering why there's folks walking home covered in blood.  Got it?”  His voice was gruff and sounded barely used, but Genji understood the explanation all the same.

“Perfectly.”  He said and held out two gold pieces.  “My odds?”

“You'll know if you get past the first round.”  The man repeated as he took the pieces and slid the door open.  “Give them a name and they'll call you when it's your turn.”  Genji entered a dark room but heard the noise of men through a wall further inside the hall.  He moved down the hall and was met by two men who gestured to a room with ten more men inside.  Genji handed off his wakizashi when one of the two men outside the door indicated it.

“Got a name?”  The man asked as he took the sword when Genji stepped into the waiting room.

“One-eyed Fox.”  He said and the door slid shut behind him.  As Genji moved through the room, he took note of each man waiting, the air heavy with the stink of sweat, alcohol, and tobacco smoke.  The air was stifling, so he was more than happy to remove his haori along with the rest of his robes but kept his hood on.  Taking the unused sash, he used it to tie the hood around his neck and head to keep his hair and face concealed, feeling it prudent to at least keep his identity under wraps for the sake of his employer.  He tightened the waistband of his tattsuke-hakama and slid off his sandals, suspecting shoes would not be allowed, and stuffed them inside his rolled up haori and outer robes.  Genji left his clothes in a corner of the room and stretched his arms over his head as the humid air settled on his now bare skin.  Feeling a little more revitalized, he crouched in the same corner he had deposited his clothes and took to waiting, his eye scanning each of his possible contenders again.  It occurred to him that the owners of the establishment did not have a set standard on whoever chose to compete in what was no doubt a private affair; a variety of body types waiting in the room.  Genji took stock of his competition he felt might prove difficult facing, but there was an unshakable confidence settled at the back of his mind that had him less than worried.  

As time passed, he learned that a man would appear to call out a name and one of Genji's potential challengers would leave.  Though muffled through the walls, he was able to hear the roar that would rise with each arrival of a new fighter, then shift into the mad jeering of an audience eager to see blood.  The noise subsided into nothing in Genji's mind as he had drifted into a meditative state.  He found it interesting that, even after all of his reckless behavior and adventures into substance abuse, he was still able to lose his sense of self in order to clear his mind.  He supposed it was not really anything to be impressed over, it was simply a skill that had become second nature thanks to a youth steeped in strict training.  For some time, he was lost in his meditations when a voice called out.

“Which of you calls yourself 'one-eyed fox'?”  The man asked.  There was a mocking lilt in his tone.  Genji stood and approached the man.  Thanks to his blood, Genji was nearly a foot and half taller than the man and it forced him to look up to meet Genji's face.

“That would be me.”  He said and crossed his arms, making sure to tense his muscles.  The man seemed to understand his mistake and an unsure smile appeared on his face.

“Y-Yes.  Well then, f-follow me please.”  He said, voice quivering.  The man turned and started to shuffle away, Genji close behind him.  As they approached the din further down the hall, Genji stretched his arms one last time and cracked his knuckles.  It had been some time since he had the chance to flex his skills and wondered if his pain tolerance was still high.  It would not take long to find out as the man pushed open a pair of doors and the shouts of a crowd filled his ears.  The room looked like it had once been a storage house, but it had been converted into a fighting ring; a rope looped through a circle of posts to keep fighters from falling into the onlookers.  Smoke was heavy in the air along with the coppery stench of blood.  As he approached the ring, he saw a man being dragged from the ring, a smear of blood following him.  A nearly bald man near the center of the ring had his large arms over his head as he faced the crowd, a triumphant roar bellowing from him.  He was dressed in just his fudoshi, blood and dirt stuck to his skin with sweat.  Genji stood by the ring and watched as the nearly bald man was announced the victor of the previous round before he left the ring to disappear into the crowd.  

“This marks the 'Furious Fukuda's' twelfth victory! No man can stop those hammering fists!”  An impossibly thin man announced, his near skeletal face riddled with glee as he made a sweeping gesture with a fan.  “For our next round, please welcome back our favorite up-and-comer, amazingly surviving an astonishing three rounds right out the gate, the Eel of Kansai Hall, Shinji!”  

Genji watched as a wiry man clearly many years younger than himself entered the ring.  His hair was cropped very short and he had no eyebrows to speak of, making his small eyes all the more unappealing in Genji's mind.  The younger man began to hop from one foot to the next and throwing practice punches against the air.  Genji assumed he was putting on a show for the crowd and he noted again the amount of money that was being produced by the crowd.  He felt someone push against his shoulder and he realized he was being told to enter the ring.  Sliding under the rope, Genji straightened up and cracked his neck as the willowy announcer's eyes fell on him.

“And to challenge the Eel we have what appears to be a mysterious stranger calling himself the 'One-eyed Fox.'  Is that why you're hiding your face, Mr. Fox?”  The man jeered, hiding his smile behind his fan.  

“Does it matter?  I'm not here to be asked about my fashion sense.”  Genji replied and moved into a defensive stance, his fists raised.  The wiry man was surprised.

“It seems we have a feisty sort tonight, how marvelous!”  He crowed and raised the fan.  “Place your bets folks!”

Genji looked away from his opponent just long enough to observe how much money changed hands.  Part of him knew that he would not be making very much money tonight until he built up a name for himself, so he supposed he should make it a quick fight.  However, his desire to relieve his boredom rebelled against that logic, but he silenced that voice.  A bell clanged and the younger man shot forward.  Genji dodged the younger man's assault and took to dodging several more of his attacks until he could gauge what Shinji's level of skill was.  There was a rudimentary level of judo in his skill set, but it was clumsy and what Genji had come to expect from small-time thugs when he took jobs outside the boundaries of law. Still, he was young and quick enough that Genji could not easily dismiss him entirely as he continued to dodge and side-step each blow.  When the crowd's shouts turned to jeering boos for the lack of fighting, he decided to end it as he needed to have good standing to draw patrons.  Shinji rocketed a fist for his face and Genji dodged, grabbing Shinji's arm.  Twisting with his full weight, the younger man was pulled off his feet and went sailing over Genji.  He slammed onto his back and let out a dry gasp, the air knocked from his lungs. Genji leaned over him and pressed a knee to his throat.

“Yield.” He warned, applying pressure.  Shinji's eyes bulged as he gasped for breath even harder and he slapped his hand against the floorboards with manic urgency.  Genji pulled his knee away and the younger man rolled to his side to gasp and cough for breath.

“Well that was quicker than expected.  It seems the Eel has been defeated after a five round streak!  How disappointing!”  The announcer howled.  Genji started for the rope, ignoring the groans of the crowd, until a rasping voice let out a protest.

“To hell with that, I'm not finished.”  Shinji hissed as he stood up, rubbing his throat as his eyes blazed with fury.  “You're a fucking cheat.”  Genji turned to eye the younger man.

“Still want to play?”  He grinned to himself under the hood.  “I'm more than happy to oblige.”

“Shinji has refused to accept defeat at the hands of this mystery man!  Will we get an actual fight instead of that pathetic display?”  The announcer shouted as he disappeared from the ring.  “Place your bets!”  Genji approached the younger man and decided it would be a good chance to reacquaint himself with his pain tolerance.

“Go ahead then, first shot is yours.”  He said jovially.  “If you can manage it that is.”  The insult was enough to set off Shinji and he dashed forward, swinging his fist into a wide arc.  His knuckles connected with Genji’s cheekbone and there was a burst of pain that bloomed across his face.  He felt his teeth rattle and that was enough to remind him of his threshold.  It had dulled a bit, but not much and he supposed the drinking and smoking were possible culprits.  His head snapped to one side and the crowd roared.  He tasted copper and found the tear on the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“Not too bad.”  He commented as he looked back at Shinji.  “But now it's my turn.”  His fist struck out faster than a snake and collided with Shinji's nose.  The younger man let out a yelp as blood oozed from his nose but before he could staunch the flow, another blow met his face, this time aimed for his eye.  Shinji stumbled back as he raised his arms to defend himself, but Genji was on him like a hawk on a rabbit and knocked his arms away.  He grabbed Shinji's wrist and twisted it, forcing the man to twist around and leave his side open.  Genji drove his fist three times into Shinji's ribs, then three more times against the soft part of his side against his kidneys.  Shinji let out a guttural cry and the crowd seemed horrified then let out a wild howl of delight.  Letting go of his wrist, Shinji crumpled to the floor and did not move, only tiny moans of pain rising from him.  Genji looked at the announcer expectantly and the skeletal man dashed forward with his fan snapped open.

“The Eel of Kansai Hall has fallen and the One-eyed Fox has proven to be a brutal contender!”  He nearly screamed, his wild eyes looking up at Genji.  “Will you be competing again tonight, Mr. Fox?”

“Anyone worth my time?” Genji asked derisively.

“Such sass!  I hope you'll go far, Mr. Fox!”  The announcer purred and held up Genji's arm.  “Give it up for the One-eyed Fox!”  Genji licked at his cheek again as the crowd continued to shout and jeer at him.

It was near dawn when he climbed back over the wall and slipped into the servants’ quarters.  Hiromi was still sound asleep so Genji was careful to hide his soiled clothes before hiding himself under a blanket.  He did not need the youth questioning the state he was in until he had a chance to clean himself up.  Using what little time remained of the night, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

When he heard the sounds of Hiromi waking, he slid underneath the coverlet so as to hide the blood that had dried on his face.  After some shuffling, small yawns, and the splash of water, a small foot nudged him.

“Genji, it's dawn.  The women will be waking soon.”  Hiromi warned, but Genji raised a hand to wave his apprentice off.

“Feeling a bit ill, go ahead and eat.  I'll meet you there.”  He said and heard the creak of floorboards as Hiromi leaned over him.

“Oh really?  How much did you drink last night?  I was asleep before you came back.”  The youth scowled.

“I'm not hung over.  I promised to behave myself so I found... other means to dull my boredom.”  He explained tiredly. Hiromi paused for a moment then made a noise of disgust.

“Are you serious?  She better have been a cheap harlot.”  Hiromi grumbled and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard enough that it rattled against its track.  Genji smirked and pushed the coverlet away.  Unrolling his hoari, a sack thudded against the floor with the metallic clink of coins.

“Maybe at first.”  He commented as he opened the bag to count the gold he had won betting on himself.  It had not been much, having only been able to fight twice, but after his first brutal round against the Eel of Kansai Hall, some patrons had been daring enough to cast their lot on him.  He stood up and dropped the coverlet along with his clothes.  Genji had drawn out the second fight, earning another punch to the face and several raw scrapes from the sandy floorboards across his back when he had been thrown to the floor but had managed to loop his legs around his opponent's neck into a choke hold.  There was a large bruise forming on his outer thigh from where his larger opponent had driven several frenzied punches to try and loosen his grip, but Genji had persevered and earned a whooping cry from the crowd when his opponent had dropped unconscious.  He had been successful in winning a few fans and had even been pulled aside after by the three men from outside to ask if he would be interested in competing against regulars to which he had of course obliged.  Told to return the following night, Genji could already feel a steady coil of excitement building in him.  However, duty called first and he took off the rest of his clothes before dumping a bucket of well water over his head.  He shook out his hair and rubbed away the dried blood and sweat.  It stained the fine white muslin cloth left with the bucket a pinkish red and grayish yellow.  Sliding on a set of fresh robes, he pulled his dusty hoari on and opened the door to greet the morning.

The sun was still barely over the horizon but he avoided the kitchen in favor of the inner garden despite the rumble in his stomach when he smelled fresh rice.  There was a peach tree growing in one of the gardens the women frequented and, wanting to avoid people for as long as possible, Genji plucked several ripened peaches from the tree for his breakfast.  As he sated his hunger, he took to wandering the halls of the castle and watched servants as they began morning duties of cleaning and feeding Lord Masamune's retainers.  He continued to wander as aimlessly as possible though it was difficult as he had memorized the halls as part of his job, but was pleasantly surprised to find himself outside the castle's library, the door cracked slightly.  He reasoned Hiromi would be enough of a bodyguard in his place as he pushed the door open fully and entered the room.  It was small and modestly furnished with two desks that had a European touch, an aesthetic he had noted Lord Masamune enjoyed.  It was another reason he assumed Lord Nobunaga wanted to crush the Date clan; their desire to open trade to outside countries was not something the Lord of Hell wanted to risk.  There were only three rows of shelves lined with simple, hand bound books and scrolls, but it was still an impressive collection.  He reached for a title when he heard the tinkling of porcelain and his body tensed.  His steps silent, he moved around the tall shelves to find the source of the sound and saw the familiar blue and silver furisode draped over a chair.  Irohahime was sitting with her back facing him as she sipped tea from a cup that was most certainly a foreign style but one he almost recognized.  She was clearly lost in reading and he wondered if she did anything else as that was all he had ever seen her do when she was with her sisters.  He moved closer, curious to see the material that had her so entranced, and was surprised to see she was reading but also writing notes with some kind of fervor, her fingers stained with ink.  A floorboard creaked beneath his foot as he started to move away and she turned quickly, snapping the book shut.  Her eyes widened when she recognized him.

“Oh, Master Genji-roh.  You gave me a bit of a fright.”  She said and smiled, quickly covering the papers she had been writing on.

“I apologize, my lady.  You were not among your sisters' so I felt it necessary to have all my ducks in a row, if you'll pardon the joke.”  He lied.  She continued to smile and Genji found himself surprised again by its genuine charm.

“I suppose I should be the one apologizing then.”  She explained and stood up, sliding her furisode back on.  “I prefer to spend my time here, but since my father has become rather paranoid of late, it has become difficult to have any sort of time to myself.  As such, my sisters tend to be the majority when it comes to any of our activities.”  There was a formality to her words, but also a hint of annoyance that he found amusing.

“Am I to assume the thrill of shopping or gossip does not fascinate you?  A terrible shame.” He said with clear sarcasm as he crossed his arms.  She seemed taken aback at first, but then eyed him as she smirked.

“Truly it is.  I must be such a disappointment to you, truly an abhorrent woman.”  She said, feigning a look of shame.  Genji chuckled.

“Enlighten me then, my lady; what would you prefer to do today?  Perhaps we can sway your sisters.”  He urged and felt the slightest hint of pride when she gave him another genuine smile, this time of delight.

“Oh my, that isn't necessary, Master Genji-roh.  I can be quite content here with my work and reading.  I would prefer it actually.”  She said and Genji looked around the library.

“Well, from what I can see, the only dangers could come from the windows or the door.”  He said indicating the two closed windows, sunlight filtering through the slats of the shutters and across the floor.  “If anything, I can have my retainer keep an eye on you while I stay with your sisters.  Perhaps you can help him with his reading.”  Irohahime lit up at the suggestion.

“Oh that would be lovely.”  She said then paused as a curious look appeared on her face.  “Your retainer is learning to read?”  Genji nodded.

“It's slow going, but he's a quick learner.  I teach him when I can, but the timing is usually against us.”  He explained and she was even more curious.

“You can read as well?”  She asked then seemed embarrassed when she realized what she had said.  “I apologize, I should not assume things.”

“I am hardly offended.  Illiteracy is the least of the insults I've been dealt.”  He said and she opened her mouth to say something but he continued, cutting her off.  “I am quite fond of Essays in Idleness by the monk Yoshida Kenkō.  I suppose I find his view of impermanence in some manner comforting.”   Irohahime eyed him for a long moment then a smile curved her lips.

“I must admit, you have surprised me Master Genji-roh.”  She said and he cocked an eyebrow.

“I suppose you made assumptions, not that I fault you for it.”  He added when the smile disappeared.

“Not assumptions, more that I am surprised you have an interest in not only literature but you bear religious leanings.”  She explained.  He scoffed.

“Hardly.  I am a man that believes in being well-informed.  It is necessary to know what is drivel and what is substantial.”  He said as he pushed his still-damp hair back.  “In my line of work, wisdom is in itself a weapon to be utilized.”  She considered his words and started to reply when she saw the bruise on his cheek.

“Seven hells! What happened to you?”  Her eyes had widened with shock as she hurried to him.  Genji tensed at how close she was, barely a breath between them.

“Ah yes.  A consequence of my duty to your lord, I suppose.”  He explained and waved off her concern.

“It looks fresh. Were you in a fight?  Should I tell one of my father’s retainers?”  She asked and Genji was disturbed by the concern still in her voice.  He was not used to being fussed over by any means.

“It is nothing, my lady.  A misunderstanding that occurred while I was on duty.”  He said, his tone becoming serious.  She seemed unfazed by his warning and that fascination he had noted before came into her eyes.  A strange silence hung between them and she raised her hand to his face.  Genji could feel the heat of her palm as it hovered over the bruise until she seemed to come back to herself and she withdrew her hand quickly.

“E-Excuse me.”  She said and bowed.  “I am simply... concerned for your well-being, Master Genji-roh.”  He swallowed and was annoyed to feel a twinge of disappointment.

“As I said, a consequence of the work.”  He said, his voice rougher than he intended.  “I believe it is time to join your sisters.  The matter of my retainer watching over you can be addressed.”  She nodded, but kept her head bowed and hurried past him.  Genji watched her depart and let out an irritable sigh, his eye falling on the table she had been writing at.  His eyebrows cocked with interest when he saw not one, but four books concerning military strategy.  Curious, he pushed the papers aside to see what she had been writing and was again surprised by her.  She had been writing possible battle maneuvers for a variety of wartime obstacles.  He looked at the door again, but she had vanished taking his questions with her.  Feeling it was not his business to pry into her personal interests, Genji left the library to join Hiromi and the Date women while pushing away a new interest that had begun to prod him.

Focus. You have a job to do and a fight to look forward to.  He reminded himself.

Within a week, Genji had established himself as a fan favorite in Kansai Gambling Hall. The second night he had returned he had lasted three rounds with minimal effort and made a scene out of how weak his opponents were, stirring up the crowd enough that he had locked himself in a 'title' fight with the ‘Furious Fukuda’.  The fact he had started to make quite a bit of money from the patrons satisfied not only his desire for spare coin, but his restlessness.  Still, he had a need that he could not define that was slowly eating away at him.  To silence it, he had goaded the house and the announcer to give the crowd a 'real show', a bit of excitement to really whet their desire for brutality. They had swallowed his suggestion easily with equal parts the desire to see if he could win or how humiliating his defeat would be. Either outcome, the crowd would love it.

Genji waited in one of the rooms reserved for prime fighters, no longer stuck in the cramped waiting room filled with a new miscellaneous gaggle of faces he would never see again.  When he had passed the usual room for new contenders, it was nearly bereft and he had been told it was because it was a night for 'regulars' who wanted to hash out old rivalries. He was crouched in the corner for his routine of meditation, his clothes rolled up neatly while he was clothed in just his tattsuke-hakama, his face once again concealed.  The now expected din of the jeering crowd had become white noise now that he was becoming a familiar presence in the gambling hall.  It was not long until the door slid open and he broke his meditation to eye the gopher that had been sent to retrieve him.

“You're up, One-eyed Fox.”  The man said, his thick lips pressed together in a derisive smile.  Genji cracked his neck before taking a moment to stretch each of his legs.  The man scoffed, the scene almost comical until Genji stood and approached the door.

“What's the crowd like?”  He asked.

“Frustrated. Last three rounds have barely lasted two minutes.”  The man grumbled.  Genji smirked under his mask.

“Well I'll be sure to liven things up then.”  He said coolly.  The man let out a short, deep laugh.

“You better and you better win too.  I've got a lot of money riding on you.”  He warned and Genji raised his eyebrows.

“How much?”

“At least thirty gold pieces.”  He said and looked at Genji.  “Why you asking?”

“Seeing what incentive I have.  I would suggest you double that bet and give me a twenty-five percent cut.”  Genji said casually.  The man paused to give Genji a dubious look.

“The hell are you on about?  That's more money than I can spare right now.  You know something I don't?”  The man snapped.  Genji just shrugged.

“Just making a suggestion.  Can't say you'll regret it.”  He replied and cracked his knuckles as he stepped past the man to push open the door, the jeering crowd drowning the rest of the conversation.  Not that it would have mattered, Genji's suggestion had left the man's mouth agape, but there were gears turning behind his expression.

As he approached the ring, Genji scanned the crowd to gauge the mood before his gaze settled on the scarecrow-like frame of the announcer in the ring.  There was a wild grin on the announcer's face, his eyes wide with glee as Genji slipped under the rope.

“And we are graced with the return of the One-eyed Fox!  A mysterious contender I doubt any of us would have guessed to survive so long!”  The skeletal man began, waving his fan as he moved around the ring with a dramatic flourish, his flamboyant kimono dragging behind him.  Genji crossed his arms as his gaze drifted back to the crowd, the announcer bent on whipping up the crowd, until his eye paused on one figure that was not jeering or thrusting their arms to match the savage energy building.  The shape was small, clearly a woman's figure, but she kept her face hooded.  Her lips were a tight line, to Genji the expression was either disgust at the gambling hall's after hours activities or a critique of the fights she had thus far observed. The look inspired a defiant spark in him and he made a mental note to observe her through his tenure in the ring. 

“I hope you've brought your hunger for blood tonight, because we have quite the treat for you.”  The announcer continued, his tone sickly sweet.  He gestured at Genji again.  “The One-eyed Fox was scheduled to fight the ever manic Mamoru, but it seems there's been a mix up in the line-up!”  He thrust his fan to one side of the ring as a young man slid under the rope.  There were not many men that could measure up to Genji's height, but Mamoru came very close.  Genji had seen him before in previous fights and he very much deserved his moniker. Long, stringy hair that hung in greasy tendrils fell over his shoulders, partially obscuring eyes that were sharp but perpetually wide with some kind of mad fervor.  He never stood completely straight, always leaning oddly to one side in a manner that unnerved Genji.

“Indeed!  It seems our One-eyed Fox was scheduled not only to fight Mamoru but,” the announcer thrust his fan to the other side of the ring, “he was supposed to fight our resident knee-breaking cheat, Kansuke!”  Genji had never seen Kansuke until now and he felt the smallest hint of doubt as a man entered the ring.  Kansuke was not muscular, but quite fat.  However, the size of his legs were no doubt what had birthed his title as a knee-breaker.  Genji was certain that if Kansuke had enough momentum behind his thick legs, it would no doubt break something.  An unsure murmur penetrated the din of the crowd until the announcer pointed at Genji.

“Simply put, we don't have time for two separate fights tonight.  So, the One-eyed Fox will have to deal with both!”  The announcement silenced the uncertainty as the crowd surged with excitement.  “Place your bets!”  The announcer dashed out of the ring and minutes were allowed to pass until the iron bell was struck and the crowd began shouting as Genji shifted into a defensive stance, his opponents following suit.  His eye shifted to the woman in the crowd.  She had crossed her arms.  His eye shifted back to Mamoru and Kansuke.  Mamoru was not moving, no doubt sizing Genji up, but Kansuke dashed forward, swinging a ham-sized fist for Genji's head.  He easily dodged but he heard the wind behind the strike and realized Kansuke's legs were not the only thing to worry about.  Suspecting being close was Kansuke's plan to overpower him with sheer weight, Genji jumped back and hit the rope, rolling out of Kansuke's range.  Just as he focused on the ring again, he was barely fast enough to react to Mamoru's sudden approach, narrow fingers aimed for Genji's throat.  Dropping to a knee to dodge the strike, Genji grabbed Mamoru's wrist and drove a punch upwards to his elbow.  There was a muffled crack as Mamoru's elbow bent awkwardly and he let out a wild shriek of pain.  Genji slipped away from him as screams rippled through the crowd.  He stood in time to see Kansuke barreling towards him, Mamoru having dropped to the floor to hover over his dislocated elbow.  Another fist came for his head and Genji dodged it easily until he realized too late that Kansuke's other fist was about to smash into his ear.  Accepting there was nothing he could do, Genji braced for the blow as well as he could.  The fist connected with his head and there was a burst of pain so great Genji could not stifle a loud grunt.  It sounded like a meaty explosion had happened inside his head and he wondered if his eardrum had ruptured.  The strength behind the fist was enough to send Genji sailing against the rope, the rough cords scraping across his back.  He hung against the rope for a moment, drawing in a guttural breath to fight the pain, his ear ringing so loudly he could see white spots in his vision.  Kansuke came at him again, but Genji was in an awkward stance.  He dropped to his knees to dodge the flurry of punches and drove his fist into Kansuke's groin.  The large man let out a wild squeal of pain and fell back, his beefy hands covering his crotch.  Genji fought a laugh at the bug-eyed look on the man's face as his gaze snapped to a shape blurring toward him.  Even with one arm, Mamoru was bent on getting at least one strike in.  He was on top of Genji before he could move, his fist rocketing for his face.  The blow met Genji's nose and he stumbled backwards.  Using the blow to regain his footing, Genji rolled away from Mamoru before he could strike again and shifted into a crouched position.  Blood oozed from his nose and he licked it away when it dribbled past his lips.  Mamoru came at him with another wild scream, his fist once again targeting Genji's face.  Despite the dizzy feeling in his head, Genji was able to gauge the distance and grabbed Mamoru's wrist again.  Once Mamoru was close enough, Genji shot to his feet, his fist striking the underside of the man's jaw.  Mamoru's head snapped back, his teeth clattering loudly, a sudden burst of blood arcing as it followed his head.  He fell heavily against the floor as blood gushed past his lips, his wild eyes staring into nothing.  Genji was barely able to register if his opponent had fainted, Kansuke having gotten back to his feet.  There was an anguished cry in the large man's voice as he came for Genji with a flurry of punches.  It was not possible to duck again so soon and Genji was forced to take the brunt of Kansuke's barrage.  The force nearly knocked the wind out of him as he stumbled back to keep Kansuke's blows from landing hard enough to put him down.  Feeling the only way to truly put Kansuke down for good would be to use the man's weight against him, a plan formed in his head.  Suffering a few more blows enough to gauge when the larger man would slow from tiredness, Genji dropped back onto his hands and thrust his legs upward.  His leg collided with Kansuke's thick neck, his foot hooking him and dragging him off balance thanks to a mix of unprepared surprise and momentum.  Genji twisted his body to strengthen his kick and Kansuke went completely off balance, his large body descending to the floor.  There was a brief moment where Genji caught the look of surprise in the man's eyes until they rolled back as Kansuke's head collided with the floor, his skull bouncing as his arms and legs went sprawling.  Genji sucked in a breath as the crowd roared again.  Daring to look away from Kansuke, he saw Mamoru on his knees and struggling to stand, his eyes ablaze with fury as he stared venomous daggers at Genji.  Satisfied for the night, Genji stood up heavily and approached his final opponent.  Before Mamoru could strike, Genji grabbed his head and drove his forehead into the man's nose, an audible crack penetrating above the shouts of the onlookers.  Mamoru fell back as Genji threw his head from his hands, feeling a hint of revulsion when the greasy mess of Mamoru's hair stuck to his fingers.

Both men sprawled at his feet, Genji drew in breath after ragged breath.  His eye scanned the crowd and he was more than pleased to see the wild glee in their eyes.  He had intended to put on a show, but it seemed the display was enough to satisfy the crowd's thirst.  A pleased grin was on his face as he eyed his growing fanbase and he searched for the woman he had seen earlier.  His cockiness vanished, replaced by shock and perhaps awe as his heart thumped against his ribs suddenly.  The woman was still among the crowd, but she had thrust two of her fingers in her mouth and was biting them, her tongue gliding over the digits.  Her other hand shocked him even more than her expression; it was obvious she had pushed her hand underneath her robes, the slit parted enough to bare a pale thigh.  The fervor of her shaking wrist made it quite clear what she was doing and Genji was unable to stop the twinge of lust that pulsed in his loins.  Swallowing roughly, he forced his gaze away from the woman and looked at the announcer.

“Well?”  He asked expectantly.  The announcer was ecstatic and dashed into the ring, grasping Genji's arm and throwing it up.

“The One-eyed Fox has dominated the ring again!  Not even two of our finest could slow him down!”  He screamed, the crowd letting out a mix of gleeful shouts and vicious insults.  Genji licked at the blood on his lips again and his gaze drifted back to the woman.  She had vanished.

It was near dawn when he returned to the castle, the first hints of sunlight casting a dim glow over the courtyard as he limped back to the servants quarters.  Genji's strength had given out once he had cleared the wall, his legs having buckled under him once he had landed back in the courtyard.  Carefully, he slid the door open to their room in his usual routine of trying to not wake Hiromi and stepped inside.  Once the door was closed Genji turned around and was confronted by his apprentice sitting on the floor, the youth's eyes filled with a furious gleam.  A loaded silence hung between them until Genji decided to speak in an attempt to diffuse Hiromi's very obvious anger.    

“Well, aren't you just the early bird today?”  He teased, already digging through a myriad of excuses.  “I was just out for a walk...”

“A walk since midnight?”  Hiromi snapped.  Genji stiffened and knew he was caught and could not stifle a chuckle.  It felt like his youth all over again; caught sneaking about by the head monk and having an explanation demanded of him.  He looked at Hiromi with a half-smile.

“Perhaps.”  He admitted.  Hiromi's eyes did not narrow like they usually did when a lecture about a 'lack of responsibility' was in store.  Instead, Genji was met with a look of righteous fury and sorrow.  Hiromi jumped up and was in front of him in a flash, throwing out a hand and grasping the edge of Genji's kimono.  Giving a hard yank to expose his chest, the myriad of bruises and cuts hidden beneath the threadbare fabric were laid bare. Another strained silence hung between the two and Genji watched his apprentice closely, Hiromi's eyes studying the bruises.  Letting the hem go with a shaking hand Hiromi pulled away, hands balling into fists.

“Hiromi,”  Genji started.

“Do you think I'm an idiot?”  The youth cut him off.  “What the hell do you take me for?”  Genji fell silent and could feel the sorrowful rage coming off his apprentice in waves. Face lowered, Hiromi began to tremble, the smallest of sobs being held back.

“I don't think you're an idiot.”  Genji said after a long pause.  “I just need something to keep me sharp, something to keep the edge.”  He rested a hand on Hiromi's shoulder, but the youth slapped it away.

“You're useless to the Date family if you get seriously injured!  Did you even think about that?”  The voice that snapped at him was angry, but wavered with fear.  “If you get hurt, if you get killed...”  A cold feeling rose in Genji's stomach when Hiromi's shoulders started to tremble.

“What will I do, huh?”  The voice was small but still angry.  “Did you even think about me?”  Genji stared at his apprentice, a numbness spreading through him as Hiromi sniffled.

“I did and I still made my choice.  I'm sorry.”  He finally answered after a moment.  Hiromi's hand tried to discreetly wipe away tears as a sob choked out.

“If you're dead, I'm...  I'm all alone again.”  Hiromi sobbed and looked up at him.  Genji felt his heart strain painfully at the tear-streaked face of his apprentice, the look in Hiromi's amber eyes filled with a fear he knew all too well.  He sighed and pulled Hiromi into a one-armed hug against his chest.

“I'm sorry.  I didn't think, I just needed... something to quiet my mind.  It gets very loud sometimes.”  Genji tried to explain, but it was vague at best to spare his apprentice of all his inner demons.  Hiromi struck him with a fist and Genji's jaw tightened against the pain.

“Stop it.  Stop trying so hard to get yourself killed.”  The youth hissed, hitting him again.  Genji sighed and put his other arm around the small shoulders of his apprentice.

“I'm not trying to.  You'll probably understand why I am the way I am when you're older, but there's one thing I've promised and I will keep that promise,” Genji lifted Hiromi's chin so their eyes met, “I will never let anything happen to you.”   There was no mirth in his voice, no smug confidence in his expression as he stared at Hiromi.  The weight of his words seemed to register in Hiromi's eyes as the anger was replaced with a nervous look of hope.  For a brief moment, Genji could see the faraway look in his apprentice's eyes as a memory rose to the surface.  It triggered another sob and Hiromi was unable to fight the tide and began to cry openly.  Genji could not help a pitying chuckle as he watched his apprentice break down, knowing well the memories causing those tears. His arms tightened protectively to pull Hiromi against him as the sobs continued.

“I don't break my promises.  I'll take care of you until you don't need me anymore.”  Genji said softly, running a hand over his apprentice's hair.  Hiromi's arms wrapped around his waist and held tight, but Genji smiled despite the pain and felt the small fingers tug at his kimono as they balled into fists again.

As the sun began to rise, Genji had finished cleaning himself up and was tying his sash into place.  Hiromi had helped to treat the worst of his injuries, not that Genji was in any state of serious concern.

“You need to take a night off.”  Hiromi ordered.

“I know, I am.”  Genji replied as he slid on his eye-patch and looked at his apprentice.  “Can you trust me enough to know my limits?”  Hiromi was quiet for a long moment, but gave Genji a stern look.

“Are you at least making money doing this?”  The youth demanded and Genji let out a laugh.

“I think it's only fair that since I didn't tell you what I was up to, you should be privy to my winnings.”  He handed a sack to Hiromi and the youth was shocked by its weight.  “That's from last night.  I gave them a bit of a show.”  Hiromi swallowed and looked at the older man.

“You're going to stop soon, right?  If you keep at it, someone is going to recognize you at some point.”  Genji sighed and finished fixing his eye-patch.

“I have another fight four days from now.  A lot of money is going to it and I intend to make a killing.”  He explained and noted Hiromi's shoulders tensing.  “I'll stop after that. Maybe find something else to waste my energy on.”

“Liar.”  Hiromi said, but opened the bag to count Genji's earnings.  “Just... slow down.  Please?”  Genji felt his resolve soften at the look on his apprentice's face.

“I promise.”  He said and tousled the youth's hair.  “Let's go.  We have a job to do.”  Genji tucked his wakizashi into his sash and slid open the door.

With breakfast finished, the weather began to turn and the women retired to the interior of the castle.  As the women filed inside, Irohahime approached Genji with her usual kind smile.

“Master Genji-roh, I rather enjoy the rain.  Could I trouble you or your apprentice to let me sit in one of the tea rooms so I may enjoy the weather?”  She asked politely.  Genji felt there was no harm in the request and part of him rather wanted an excuse to make conversation with her again.

“Very well.  Hiromi,” he said and was met with a nod from his apprentice before he turned back to Irohahime, “My lady.”  He bowed his head and gestured toward the hall.  Irohahime passed him and the faint scent of chamomile touched his nose.  He followed several paces behind as she made her way through the castle until they neared the inner garden, a large viewing window showing off the trees and flowers as they drooped under the rain.  Irohahime perched next to the large window, her furisode spreading around her as she pulled a book from her sleeve.  Genji knelt an appropriate distance from her and his eye moved to the garden.  A tranquil quiet settled between them as the rain pattered against the roof tiles, the drops rolling and dripping languidly to the stone walkway outside.  The mild humidity curled the edges of his hair and brought a sharpness to the air that had his sense of smell keener than he was accustomed to.  The scent of chamomile touched his nose again and he felt a familiar tug in his abdomen.  Closing his eye, he let himself be swallowed by the ambiance as he focused on the sound of rain, the sense of calm bringing with it meditation.  He needed to clear his mind as he had caught himself many times in past days admiring her figure; the curve of her neck, the barest hint of her collarbone between her kimono, and the glimpse of her ankle when she went over a step.  It irked him; this unnatural desire.  He had been with women before in his younger days, but the act itself had brought little appeal.  Lust had not been something that served him well in his training; if anything it was meant to be used against one's enemies.  Intimacy was reserved for those worthy of it.  It did not matter that, in his eyes, she was the most appealing woman he had ever encountered.   

“You have a new bruise today.”  She said, breaking him from his thoughts.

“As I said before, consequences of the job.”  He said, his eye remaining on the garden.

“I'm sure.”  She replied and he felt her gaze on his face until it flicked back to her book.  “Though I can't help noticing your injuries are fresh.  Is there something I should be concerned about?”

“There is no reason for you to concern yourself, my lady.  I am simply doing my job of which there is more to than just following you about.”  There was a curtness to his tone that served as a warning to not pry, but her eyes found his face again.  Genji remained focused on the garden, but a tension had begun to build between them, a tension he had felt the first time he had been alone with her.  It was an unwelcome new feeling.  Irohahime studied him for a long time and he could feel the suspicion in her gaze.

“I know there is meant to be a boundary of master and servant while you are serving under my father, but I feel a small urge to break it.”  She said after a moment and shut her book. Genji carefully met her gaze.

“I would ask you make your meaning clear, my lady.”  He said.

“Have tea with me.”  Her answer surprised him.  A kind, hopeful smile was on her face and he considered his options before his usual smirk twisted his lips.

“If that is what you wish, my lady.”  He bowed his head and realized a mix of emotions had risen in him.  There was the casual pleasure at the thought of having a private talk with her, as he had quite enjoyed the banter he was allowed with her.  However, the unmistakable anxiety at how easily he was being swayed by her presence reminded him to stay guarded.

She stood and slid the door open, motioning for a servant then giving an order for tea to be brought.  Genji remained in place as a table was brought into the room along with a pot of tea and he was irked by the noise that came with servants bustling around.  When all was said and done, Irohahime dismissed the servants and lowered herself at one end of the table.  Genji did not move from his spot until she looked at him expectantly.  Weighing the consequences one last time, Genji gave in to temptation and stood up to sit at the opposite end of the table.  She poured her tea then his as a distant rumble of thunder disturbed the air.

“Where do you hail from Master Genji-roh?”  She asked, some of the formality of her tone gone.

“If you wish to play at being equals, should titles not be involved?”  He teased.  She paused and considered his words then smiled.

“You are right.  Shall I call you 'Genji-roh'?”  She asked.

“I prefer it be simply 'Genji',” he answered, “I do not feel comfortable calling you by your birth name, my lady.”  She sighed and took her tea.

“Very well, but I hope you might at some point.”  After a sip, she continued before he could assure her he would never become so familiar with her that such a thing would happen.  “As I said before, where do you hail from?”

“If you are asking for my heritage, I cannot say for certain.  The man who sired me was a foreign merchant that saw fit to take advantage of my mother's position as a concubine.”  He said blithely and was inwardly pleased by the shock on her face.  She looked away quickly to compose herself before meeting his gaze again.

“I should have made my meaning clear as I was not prying about your features, but where you lived before coming to Yonezawa.”  She said and Genji eyed her suspiciously.

“There's no need to lie to me, my lady.  I am well aware of the revulsion my looks cause in anyone who happens to see my face.”  He crossed his arms and his eye narrowed.  “Please do not try to play coy.  It does not suit that cleverness I know you to be capable of.”  Some of the sweetness in her face vanished and he could see a calculating glint in her eyes.  

“Very well.  While I was more interested in your past, I admit my initial curiosity was roused by your obvious foreign features.  I have heard of foreigners taking refuge in Oshu thanks to my father's desire to expand trade outside the country, but you were the first time I had seen such strange characteristics.”  She sipped her tea again and held his gaze.  “Your eye is quite beautiful.  A blue to match the sky.”  Genji smirked and stifled a chuckle.

“Perhaps more interesting if there were two.”  He joked but she shook her head.

“Not necessarily.  Rather it inspires more questions.”  She said and his smirk fell, his gaze hardening at the memory.

“Seems a bit rude to wonder how a man had his eye plucked out.”  

“True, but you asked that I not play coy so instead I shall be straightforward.  Did it hurt?”  She continued.  Genji was taken aback for a moment by her honesty, but her blunt questioning amused him and his smirk returned.

“Terribly, though I suppose it was well-deserved.”   He said and lifted his glass of tea.  “Before you ask how it happened, I would rather that remain a mystery if you don't mind.  I would prefer not to share more of my past than necessary.”

“Then tell me about your retainer, Master Hiromi. Have you traveled together long?”  She asked and the light of the room flickered as a streak of lightning slashed through the sky. Genji's eye shifted to the cup in his hand and he stared at the surface.

“It will be six years now, give or take.”  He said and his voice lowered when he recalled the memory of it.  “The longer the better...”  She detected the darkness behind his tone and chose not to press him for answers.

“And you are teaching him to read?  Odd, yet quite thoughtful.” She continued after a small pause.  Genji met her gaze again.

“It does me little good to have a retainer that is uneducated.  I intend to make him into a proper extension of myself. Such an advantage is welcome in this age.”  He explained, finally sipping the tea as she eyed him with interest.  

“So when my sisters and I have been sent away, where will you go?” She asked.  Genji's reluctant acceptance that he was to be a bodyguard indefinitely seemed suddenly very temporary.  The realization disturbed him more than he cared to admit.  Careful to conceal his emotions, he gave her an easy smile.

“A question I have not asked myself unfortunately.  I suppose it will be back to traveling and waiting until this war ends.”  He answered.  This time, Irohahime's face darkened and her gaze shifted to stare out the window.

“I grow weary of the endless fighting.”  Her voice was cold.  “Lord Oda is nothing more than a vicious tyrant, a mad man that has been consumed by the delusion he is a god.  The 'Lord of Hell'?  The 'Lord of Fools' is a more apt title.”

“Perhaps, though I find it interesting you expressing such criticism for Lord Oda.  Was it not long ago the Date was allied to his cause?”  He asked, his expression one of challenge as he waited for her answer.  Irohahime fixed him with a sharp look.

“The Date's allegiance lies with it's people with the support of the Tokugawa.  Once it became clear the genocidal lengths Lord Oda was willing, nay, gleeful to pursue for his 'divine rule', my father saw fit to warn Lord Tokugawa he would not continue to serve a mad man.  Thankfully, the massacre of the Sanada was enough to convince Lord Tokugawa and Lord Toyotomi that it was not in their best interest to continue an alliance with the Oda clan.”  She explained hotly.  Genji respected her impassioned defense of her father's decisions, but he was not entirely moved as he still possessed the knowledge of what truly determined the outcome of wars waged across their country.

“I suppose the slow crumbling of the Uesugi has not convinced your father nor his allies that such a decision was wise on their part.”  He commented and earned a fiery look from her.

“My father has never harbored regrets for any decisions he has made for the sake of his people.  The Date clan has always ruled with integrity, not a desire to subjugate others.  My father is aware there is always a cost in war and he has shown as much with the Ashina's betrayal and the battle that led to my grandfather Lord Terumune's death.  There will always be a difficult choice, but the Date clan will remain on the side of reason even if it means we meet our ends at the hands of a power-hungry sadist.”   She set her cup down hard enough for some tea to slosh over the lip and a silence fell between them.  Save for the patter of rain, Genji kept his gaze focused on her and the fire that had blazed in her eyes.

Such a passionate little thing.  You'd be a fine leader if fate had favored you.  His gaze drifted from her face to take in the whole of her figure once more.  She was of lithe figure, but not so feminine in a way he could tell she would not wilt easily.  Certainly not when compared to most women that spent their lives in castles sipping tea and whispering behind fans.  Genji could easily see her sweating in battle for her people and he pushed the image from his mind when it appealed to him far too much.  He bowed his head.

“My apologies, my lady.  I was not intending to bait you into questioning your allegiance to your family, nor was I expressing judgment.  I have simply lived long enough to see powerful lords reduced to whimpering children in the face of their foes, their lands burned to ash.  We live in a precarious time and I have lost some faith with those in places of power.”  He explained before raising his head to meet her eyes again.  She studied him for a long moment and the fire ebbed from her gaze as she looked out the window again.  There was something forlorn in her expression.

“Can I admit something to you, Master Genji?”  She asked after a short pause.  

“While we are equals in this moment, yes my lady.”

“I believe my people are standing on the right side of history as it unfolds before us, more so than you would believe.”   She looked at him and the fear in her eyes surprised him.  “I fear that while we may be right, the price of it will indeed see my father's clan fall at the hands of Lord Oda's might.  I fear for my sisters, my handmaidens, the people that inhabit Oshu.  For the fate they may suffer.  They are innocent bystanders in this war and Lord Oda's madness would see them dead or enslaved.”  Genji's eye narrowed and the desire to comfort her left as a cold settled over him.

“Fear will make you weak.”  He said and her eyes sharpened, the fire slowly coming back to life.  “My words are not meant to hurt you, but they are a criticism.  If you wish to play at leading others, fear will hold you back when snap decisions must be made.  People die in wars, no matter if they were born among wealth or shit.  That is an unchangeable fact you must swallow.”

“Why do you assume I wish to lead others?”  She replied curtly.

“It is my job to be observant, my lady.  I thought we agreed you would not play coy?”  He smirked, but it was not filled with his usual mirth.  Irohahime seemed perturbed as she considered how she should answer.  With a small sigh, she folded her hands in her lap.

“I would like my hobbies to remain between the two of us.”  She said finally and he chuckled, his mood lifting.

“You will find I am quite good at keeping secrets.”  Genji could not help the playfulness in his tone as he leveled a teasing look in her direction.  “No matter how indecent they may be.”  She stood up quickly, bumping the table and turned to hide her face.  Shocked by the reaction, he steadied the table and shot a hand out to catch the teapot before it could fall to the floor.  He looked at her curiously when she peered back at him, her face partially hidden by her sleeve.

“Forgive me, I remembered something...  strange.”  She said quickly.  Genji could see the flush of red on her cheeks and his chest tightened.  Irohahime would not know that she had given him another face that he found far too attractive.  Setting the teapot back on the table, he cleared his throat with difficulty as he returned to a seated position.

“I apologize for inspiring a memory you were not fond of.”  He said and bowed his head.

“Perhaps that's a stretch.  It would be dishonest of me to say it was not a fond memory.”  She said and he looked up at the sound of amusement in her tone.  Her expression suggested she had a wonderful secret that some part of her was dying to share with him. It was a look that had his chest tightening again and he stood up quickly.

“Forgive me, my lady.  I have a job that needs doing and so I must end our little tea break.”  He said, his voice feeling strange in his throat.  There was a hint of disappointment in her expression, but she complied and the blush that had seared her cheeks began to fade.

“Of course, I've kept you far too long already.”  She said and moved around the table, pausing at his side.  Very rarely did Genji encounter anyone that could match his height and it often served well as an intimidation tactic; however, despite being a full foot or more shorter than him, Irohahime met his eye without any sort of apprehension.  The scent of chamomile filled his senses and he did not move even when she reached out a hand to touch his cheek, this time without hesitation.  His eye narrowed only slightly from pain when her fingers gently touched the bruise he had earned from the previous night.

“You should take better care of yourself, Master Genji.”  Her voice was low, an almost wistful look in her eyes. “You have a face I have come to enjoy seeing.”  Genji's eye closed and he resisted the urge to press against her warm palm as she brushed it over his cheek.

“I do not think this behavior is appropriate between master and servant.  What would your father think?”  He had meant to sound stern, but his humor betrayed him.

“I respect my father, but I will do as I please.”  She replied and pulled her hand away.  When he looked at her, he noted the blush had returned to her cheeks, though not as fiercely as before.  She moved past him and out the door and Genji bit the tip of his tongue to distract himself from the quickening of his heartbeat. He did not like how he was coming to enjoy the effect she had over him.

The day passed without incident and as evening fell, Genji finished the last of his rounds and met Hiromi in the inner gardens.

“All clear?”  He asked and the youth nodded.  “Good. Let's get some food and some damned sleep.”  Hiromi's eyes rolled back.

“Your exhaustion is your own fault.”  The youth quipped and earned a petulant look from Genji.

“None of your sass.”  He warned as he led the way back to the servants quarters.  It was quiet between the two of them until Hiromi felt it was safe to speak freely.

“So how much money were you planning on betting for this next fight?”

“Seeing as it will be a match up against the 'reigning champion', quite a lot.” Genji answered.  “Why?  Are you wanting to bet on your beloved master?”  He gave his apprentice a smug look, but Hiromi scoffed.

“Of course, you dullard.”  The youth snapped. Genji dropped his teasing, his face giving way to surprise.

“Oh really?  Well then, I will be sure to win.”  He responded happily.  Hiromi looked away sullenly, a hint of pink dusting the youth's cheeks.

“You'd better.  It's not like I believe in you or anything, it's a practical decision to bet on someone who is clearly better trained.”  Genji smirked at Hiromi's attempt to deflate his pride but it only bolstered his desire to win.

“I will not disappoint you, my dear apprentice.”  He replied and nudged Hiromi with his arm to which the youth responded by shoving at him, earning a laugh from the older man. Once they had sated their hunger and returned to the servants quarters, Genji rested by the open door dressed in his night robes and watched the dark, but still cloud covered sky.  Hiromi had practiced reading in the hours that passed until finding a stopping point for the night and began packing up the reading materials.

“Maybe it's a blessing you found a way to make a little money on the side.” Hiromi said and Genji turned his head to look at his apprentice.

“Oh?  Are you forgiving my outside activities now?”  He teased and the youth scoffed.

“Hardly.  I'm saying it's probably a good thing since we might not be here as long as I thought.”  Genji's eye narrowed at his apprentice.

“Elaborate.”  He ordered and Hiromi was surprised by the firmness of the older man's tone.

“The Date daughters have been promised to political allies, remember?”

“All except Lady Irohahime.”  Genji said nonchalantly.

“Not anymore.  I overheard the other sisters discussing how her future husband has finally been decided upon,” Hiromi continued, “apparently the other retainers have been discussing it for months, it just hasn't been made public yet.  I don't think even Lady Irohahime knows yet.”  Genji stared at his apprentice for a long moment then rolled away as he forced his expression to become blank even as the blood in his veins ran cold.

“I don't care.  The sooner we leave the region, the sooner my peace of mind comes back.”  He commented.  Hiromi shrugged, but Genji did not see it as his thoughts were now, annoyingly, filled Irohahime's face when she had blushed.  

“Oh boy.  I had come to like having a roof and a bed to sleep on, you know.” Hiromi grumbled and blew out the lantern, thrusting the room into darkness.  The youth was asleep in moments and Genji realized with irritation that he would not be able to sleep well, his exhaustion replaced by a loathsome dread.  

In the days leading up to his pivotal fight, Genji did not need to be told that his face bore the signs of restlessness, his expression somber and he could already feel the bags under his eyes. Hiromi had left for breakfast before Genji had woke the day of the fight and left the washing bowl and a spare towel for the older man. Genji slapped the cold water against his face and against the back of his neck with the hope of driving away some of the weariness.  It did little good and he sighed miserably as he dressed and started for the kitchens, the morning sunlight blocked out by the thickening storm clouds that had persisted for days.  Hiromi was just finishing a bowl of rice and looked up when the older man entered the room, the heat from the stoves heavy in the air.

“I'd say good morning, but that doesn't seem to be the case for you.”  The youth teased and Genji made a sour face.

“I'll break your wrist again if you don't quiet down you little imp.”  He threatened and Hiromi scoffed.

“So you admit you did mean to break it?  I'm so privileged to have such an honest master.”  The youth said derisively.  Genji felt a powerful urge to slap a hand across the back of his apprentice's head when a kitchen maid approached him.

“You do look rather tired, good sir.”  Her voice was timid, but sweet and Genji felt a hint warmer at the kindness in it.  “Have some tea.  It will help brighten up your day.”  She handed him a cup and the scent of chamomile wafted over his face.  The effect was far more calming than he realized and he took her hands.  

“Thank you, my dear.”  He said with a smile after a deep sigh and she pulled her hands away quickly with a blush.

“O-Of course!”  She nodded quickly and hurried back into the kitchen.  Genji's smile shifted into his usual smirk and he dropped next to his apprentice.  

“Since when do you like tea?  I have never seen you drink it willingly unless you were still hung over.”  Hiromi asked, but Genji did not look at the youth as he sipped the warm beverage.

“Since none of your business.”  He said curtly. Hiromi eyed him suspiciously then sighed with resignation and fell silent as Genji scooped rice into a bowl.

“It looks like the weather will turn ugly again today.”  Genji commented as he dug into the bowl of rice.

“Perhaps a day better spent in the castle then?”  Hiromi replied and eyed the older man expectantly.  Genji nodded as he swallowed the rice.  

“Indeed.  When you've finished, inform Lord Shigezane.  I heard he had returned as Lord Date is retreating.  Apparently the battle with the Ashina has not turned out in their favor.  Inform the Date women as well.”  He ordered and Hiromi nodded quickly while devouring two last heaping spoonfuls of porridge before hopping up from the table and dashing out of the kitchens.  Perhaps it was for the best since Genji felt his mind would not be appropriately focused on the importance of his job.

There had been mild protest by the women, but a word from their uncle silenced all opposition and they had retired to the interior of the castle to either have tea and gossip with their handmaids or whittle the hours away with sewing.  Genji noted that Irohahime was more involved with her sisters than usual, but now and then he caught an errant gaze from her.  There was something odd in the way she took him in with her eyes.  The storm swelled to its worst in the late afternoon as Genji made his rounds again through the castle when the women separated to pursue their varying interests.  Hiromi stayed with the two sisters that remained in the tearoom while Genji made a path through the castle to pause and look in on the sisters that had left.  As he approached the library, Irohahime stepped into the hall and paused when she saw him.

“Is it my turn to be checked on?”  She asked with a playful smile.  Genji attempted to remain solemn, but he met her smile with his own.

“That it is.”  He replied and bowed his head.  “Is there anything of note I should be aware of, my lady?”

“Yes, actually.”  She stepped away from the doorway and gestured inside.  “It would please me if we could again share tea?”  There was a pause as Genji looked at her, the dread he had been at odds with for several nights rising in the pit of his stomach again.

“As you wish, my lady.”  He bowed and followed her into the library.  There was a foreign tea set waiting on a low table near the desk she usually worked at.  She poured the tea into the ornate cups as he lowered to his knees at the opposite end of the table.  When she was seated, her eyes found his singled gaze and a strange silence hung between them.

“How are you finding the weather today?”  She started and took a sip of tea.  Genji looked at the cup in front of him and curled his fingers around the unfamiliar handle.

“Sudden, I suppose.  Much like a rumor.”  He answered and eyed her again.  The smile on her lips fell and her expression became blank.

“Quite a comparison.  What rumors have you heard?”  She asked, all playfulness absent from her tone.

“One that implies my face may not be welcome here for much longer.”  The comment came out with a more accusatory tone than he had intended.

“Ah yes, so you've heard the joyous news then.”  Her tone was bitterly sarcastic as she broke his gaze and set her cup against the saucer.  Genji admired her restraint when the trembling of her fingers gave away her anger.

“So it seems you are to be married to Lord Tokugawa's sixth son.  I'm sure you will be well-cared for.”  He commented with snide cheer and realized he was suddenly angry with her.  It was a reaction that surprised him and the cold dread that had sat in his stomach now took over.

“I would mind your tongue, Master Genji.”  She warned, her gaze sharp.  Genji shrugged in response and scoffed.

“It is a fine position, joking aside.  The life of a noblewoman is truly the greatest thing you could ask for.”  He said and he cared not that the barbs of his words caused a flash of hurt in her eyes even as she held her formal composure.

“Well then, I see now what kind of man you are.  Do you think such a fate is meant for my sex despite what other qualities I may bear?”  The question was a demand and he narrowed his gaze at her.

“Women belong in the shadows of those greater, their purpose meant solely to take care of the home and keep a bed warm.”  He said, his tone sharp with cruel mockery.  She was on her feet in an instant and hot tea splashed across his face.  Genji hissed with pain and covered his face, the liquid scalding his cheek and neck.

“How dare you speak to me in such a way.”  She spat, her voice ice.  “You are nothing more than a crippled undesirable. You deserve the fate a face like yours has brought you.”  She slammed the cup onto the table and stormed out of the library.  Genji wiped away the last of the tea from his face and stared blankly at the empty space she had occupied.

“Good to have your true thoughts at the end of it, my lady.”  He muttered to himself as the storm outside came back to life with a rumble of thunder.

Genji avoided the women for the rest of the day and chose not to attend dinner in the main hall.  He ordered Hiromi to watch over the women as he was intent on perusing the grounds. Despite the rain, Genji made his rounds through the Date castle before returning to the servants quarters, dinner having ended quite some time later.  He found Hiromi in their room as he slid open the door.

“You were gone for a bit.”  The youth commented before returning to reading.  Genji ignored the remark and slid out of his damp clothes.

“I'm going to rest for an hour.  Wake me before too long, otherwise I won't be in proper shape for tonight.”  He ordered and dropped heavily onto the tatami mat by the window.  He felt his apprentice's eyes at his back.

“Yes sir.”  Hiromi said and continued reading. Genji closed his eye and forced himself into a meditative state. There was no place for the agitation that consumed him, all that should matter was the fight that was to come.  

As midnight approached, the moon blotted out by the weakened storm clouds, Genji made his way through the streets with Hiromi at his side.

“There's no need for you to come along.”  He said but the youth scoffed.

“That's what you think.  You've done too well in what has to be a rigged game.” Hiromi countered and gave the older man a sharp look.  “Besides, I want to make sure my money is spent wisely.”  Genji gave his apprentice a knowing smirk.

“Such a fine mother you'll make one day.”  He teased and Hiromi responded with a punch to his shoulder.  Kansai Gambling Hall soon appeared as Genji led the way through the city and he pulled his hood over his eyes and motioned for Hiromi to do the same.

“Give them an extra piece of gold when you ask to go in.  You look far too delicate to be in a place like this unless you have money to spare.”  He warned.  Hiromi made a grumble of protest, but took his advice.

“Where will you be once I'm inside?”  The youth asked.

“There's a series of rooms at the very back of the hall where the men wait for their turn in the ring.  Look for me there.”  Genij explained and gave his apprentice one final smirk before covering his mouth.  “Consider this a lesson to prove your salt in infiltration.”

Hiromi left his side and Genji made his way down the alley that wove around the gambling hall once he had made his 'name' known to the unofficial bouncers standing guard.  Before the door slid shut, he was greeted by one of the men in charge of organizing the fights.

“Welcome back One-eyed Fox.  Hope you're ready for your big show.”  The man said.  Genji did not like the man's smug smile.

“No other reason I'd be here.”  He answered.  “Is there something I should know?”  The man let out a derisive chuckle.

“Fukuda will not be your opponent tonight.”  Genji's expression became solemn.

“So what does that mean for me?”  He asked after a small pause.

“You're still fighting.  You haven't been here for the last three nights so there's been a bit of an upset.”  The man explained.  “Fukuda was challenged by a 'dark horse', as it were, named Kyoji.”

“Kyoji?”  Genji asked, the name completely foreign to him as he thought over all the men that had participated in recent memory.  Even after he had won his victories, Genji would spend just enough time in the gambling hall to make a mental checklist of all the participants he saw compete.  Even if he was just in it to ease his boredom, he had always liked to have a grasp on whatever new hobby he indulged in.  Kyoji was unfamiliar and that aroused his suspicions.

“He joined four nights ago and put on quite a show, even more interesting than you.”  He shrugged and turned away to lead Genji inside the gambling hall.  “Odds probably won't be in your favor tonight.”

“Lucky me then.”  Genji smirked.  Inside the impromptu waiting room, Genji had dressed down to his tattsuke-hakama and bare feet.  The door slid open as he was binding his knuckles and Hiromi peeked inside.

“Do I pass?”  The youth teased and Genji shook his head.

“Not yet.  There's something shady going on.” He said and Hiromi snorted.

“Something shady in a gambling hall?  A gambling hall run by Yakuza?  Unbelievable.”  Hiromi said dramatically and Genji gave the youth a look of disdain.

“Hush.  I want you to snoop around and see if you can find out if there's anything that might hinder my chances of winning tonight's fight.  If your suspicions of it being rigged are true, I need to know who to watch out for.”  Genji explained and Hiromi sighed.

“Can do.”  The youth vanished from the doorway and Genji flexed his arms forward with a grunt, his shoulders and back popping loudly.  With Hiromi busy searching the main part of the impromptu ring and its surrounding crowd, Genji decided to search the rooms hidden away that served to house the participants.  As he made his way through the hallways, pausing to cast a suspicious eye into each room, he was surprised to find Fukuda holed up in one of the rooms.  The man was hunched over a mat, the lantern in the room having dimmed significantly.  The door was cracked just enough that Genji slipped inside noiselessly, Fukuda's back facing him.  Fukuda's kimono was partially undone, bandages wrapped around his thick shoulder, his skin still beaded with sweat.  There was dirt stuck to the back of his neck, but what Genji found more interesting were the small angry red welts all over any bare patch of skin exposed to the lantern's dim light.

“Hey, what—” Genji's question was cut off when Fukuda spun around suddenly, his fist rocketing towards his face.  Genji dodged instinctively but with visible surprise on his face.

“Okay but why though—”  He started but he fell silent when the man collapsed.  The dodge had been unnecessary as the larger man grunted in pain and slumped forward awkwardly.  Confused, he stared at Fukuda as the man let out a groan of anguish as he struggled to sit upright.  Dropping to a knee, Genji helped Fukuda back into a sitting position and was shocked by the beating the man's face had taken.  Cloth was stuffed in both of Fukuda's nostrils, one eye swollen shut and going purple along with a busted lower lip.  The red welts were heavily concentrated on his neck and chest and, to Genji's genuine horror, his hands.  Fukuda's fingers were bent at odd angles, the skin swollen and red, the veins a bulging blue and purple.  The damage was severe enough that Genji did not need to guess Fukuda's hands would be forever marred and possibly crippled for the remainder of his life.

“Seven hells, what happened to you?”  He asked and Fukuda eyed him with a scrutinizing expression.

“I know you...”  He muttered then his one good eye widened with recognition.  “You're the guy I was supposed to fight tonight.  Always have your face covered, but everyone knows you're missing an eye and some fingers.”  Genji could smell alcohol on Fukuda's breath, heavy and sweet.  His cheeks and nose bore the ruddy shade of drunkenness and Genji could not blame him, seeing the damage that had been done to him.

“Looks like someone beat you out for the opportunity. Literally from the looks of it.  What happened?”  Genji asked and put a steadying hand on Fukuda's shoulder when he began to sway from side to side.  Fukuda's expression became distant and a tense silence hung between the two men.

“I...  I don't even know.”  Fukuda replied, his tone exasperated.  “The bell went off and I went for him.  I got one punch in and then...  then...”  Fukuda looked around the room and reached for a ceramic jug.

“Kyoji, right?”  Genji asked and picked up the jug when Fukuda struggled to reach it.  Fukuda nodded as he took a long swig from the jug.

“Tall son of a bitch.”  He bellowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.  “Taller than even you.”

“When did Kyoji start competing?”  Genji continued to press the battered man and took one of his damaged hands.

“Couple days ago maybe.  He just destroyed anyone that went against him.  Barely even threw a punch.”  Fukuda continued.

“What happened when you punched him?”  Genji knew he recognized the red welts, but he could not recall where he had seen them before.

“It was like, like I was being attacked by fucking bees.  As soon as I got one good hook across his smug face, I was being stung left and right.  I couldn't even open my eyes anymore, it just wouldn't stop.  He gave me a thrashing I haven't felt in years.”  He explained and his eyebrows furrowed when Genji continued to examine his hands.  “The hell you doing?”

“Not bees, but something small.”  Genji answered and paused in thought as he looked at Fukuda's fingers.  “Has a doctor been in to see you yet?”

“Son, this is a damned illegal fighting club. There's no doctors here and I was cleaned out by the fucking house. I can't pay for a damn doctor unless I sell my fat ass.”  Fukuda grumbled irritably.

“Fair enough.  Want me to fix your fingers?”  Genji asked and looked at Fukuda.  The man stared at him incredulously but sighed and took another swig from the ceramic jug.

“Fuck it.  Not like I'll be using them to fight again.”  He said and Genji smirked.

“Don't assume that, my friend.  Brace yourself.”  Genji went to work setting Fukuda's bent fingers and earned a cacophony of angry and pained groans.  By the time he was finished and wrapping the man's hands, Fukuda had become further inebriated and was eyeing the other man suspiciously.

“Why are you in here being so helpful and snooping around?  I ain't some stupid farm boy, what are you playing at?”  He demanded, his words slurring just a bit.  Genji stood up and wiped his hands on his pants.

“No games, 'Furious' Fukuda.  Just wanting to know what kind of fight I'm in for.” He explained and pulled part of the scarf wrapped around his mouth away so he could give Fukuda a sad smile.  “If anything, I'm disappointed because I was looking forward to a fight with you.”  Fukuda's expression shifted from suspicion to melancholy.

“In all honesty, I was too.  I was looking forward to schooling your show-boating ass.”  He muttered and let out a low chuckle.  “Looks like someone else will get the honor of it.”

“I wouldn't be so sure.”  Genji smirked.  “Something tells me that honor will still be yours to have.  Someday maybe.”  Fukuda looked up at him.  Genji caught the faintest flash of hope in the battered man's eyes before he lowered his face with a loud sniff as he wiped his good eye with the back of his hand.

“Kick that fucking giant's ass, okay?  I think we both know he's a dirty fighter.”  He grumbled and Genji let out a low chuckle of his own.

“It would be my pleasure.”  He said and bowed.

Leaving Fukuda to lick his wounds as it were, Genji made his way down the hallway back to the ring.  It was growing close to time for his match with Kyoji and he had learned enough to have a few suspicions of how Fukuda had been put out of commission so easily.  Fukuda was an ox of a man, leaving Genji wondering what could have been small enough but also packing enough power to overwhelm a man known for his relentless endurance in a fight.  He suspected Kyoji was working in conjunction with someone else in the gambling house, someone that could be close to the ring.  Close enough to be the worst kind of painful distraction while Kyoji beat his opponent to a bloody pulp.  Genji was forced from his thoughts when the very man he was thinking about blocked his path in the hallway.  Fukuda had not been exaggerating when he had described Kyoji as a 'tall son of a bitch' and Genji's eyebrows rose in impressed surprise.  Kyoji was a giant in every sense of the word; he towered over Genji's six foot stature, his arms and legs thick with muscle coupled with a bulging chest peeking from a dusty kimono with torn sleeves.  His face was sharply angled, his lips thick though not nearly as thick as his dark eyebrows.  A white headband was tied around his short hair, but it was nearly hidden by the thick pompadour that fell over his forehead.  With a jovial smile, he stared down at Genji with arms crossed.  Genji was less than impressed by the man's lack of a poker face, Kyoji's eyes betraying the palpable contempt he held for him.

“Hey buddy, got a minute?”  He said.  It was a demand, not a request.  Genji slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and met the giant's stare with his own bored expression despite his mostly covered face.

“What can I do for you?” Genji asked casually.

“So in case ya haven't figured it out yet, yer not winning this fight tonight.”  Kyoji said and Genji cocked an eyebrow at the man's bluntness.

“Unless you know something I don't, that prediction is a bit of a stretch.”  He replied.  Kyoji's smile stiffened.

“Listen, ya seem like ya've done well enough here but I think it's about time ya moved on, ya know?”  Kyoji continued and dropped a heavy hand on Genji's shoulder.  “Might get seriously hurt, ya know?  So here's what I'll do for ya; throw the fight, but make it look good 'course, and I'll give ya a forty percent cut of my winnings?  Sounds good, right?”  Genji's eye shifted to Kyoji's hand.  No marks of past scars marred his hand, nothing like the hands of a fighter that had devoted his life to the ring.  Fukuda's ruined hands flashed in Genji's mind and he considered his options.  His gaze shifted back to Kyoji.

“As tempting as that offer is, I'm going to have to refuse.”  He said.  There was mirth in his tone, but the look in Genji's eye revealed icy contempt.  Kyoji's smile faltered at the malice in Genji's expression for just a moment and he pulled his hand away.

“Are ya dumb?  Yer going to die if ya don't think about this, ya know?”  He warned.  “Take my advice, throw the fight.”  Genji pulled his scarf low enough to give Kyoji a devilish smile.

“Good advice, I'm sure.  But I have a better deal for you.”  He said and Kyoji's eyebrows rose in interest.  “How about you suck my cock and shove that forty percent cut up your ass while you're at it.  Sounds good, right?”  Genji covered his mouth and side-stepped around Kyoji.  Anticipation rose in him as he neared the end of the hallway, the ring coming into his line of sight.  Cool resolve had settled in his stomach and he refused to let the night end with Fukuda's humiliation being the highlight.

The noise of the crowd filled Genji's ears before he had made it to the end of the hallway, but he recognized the silhouette of a small figure waiting for him at the entrance to the makeshift arena.  Hiromi looked up when he approached and moved away from the wall.

“I did some nosing around and didn't find anything you'd call suspicious.”  Hiromi explained, falling into step as Genji made his way to the ring as the patrons began to shout once they caught sight of him.

“Did you find anything out about our friend Kyoji?”  He asked, his eye scanning the crowd.

“Just that he showed up four days ago and decimated his competition.  His father, or his coach you could say, has been at every match.  There's a rumor that his father has a debt with Kansai Hall and he's been betting on Kyoji every match.”  Hiromi continued.

“Find his father.  Watch the crowd too, especially after I knock that asshole's teeth in.”  Genji ordered and covered his mouth with the scarf.  Hiromi's eyebrows rose in surprise.  

“You're certainly in some kind of mood.  Did something happen?”  The youth asked.

“Not really.  I just feel really angry for some reason.”  Genji replied and slid under the rope into the ring.  The announcer appeared, his spindly frame clothed in a lavish red kimono that dragged the ground.  His hair had been coiffed in the style of a geisha and his face was once again painted stark white, complimented with excessive blue eye shadow and red lip paint.  As his eyes fell on Genji, he snapped open his fan to hide his excited grin and hurried to his corner.

“Welcome back, Mr. Fox.  It seems you won't be taking on the fists of 'Furious' Fukuda.  Are you prepared?”  The announcer purred.  Genji eyed the strange man and crossed his arms.

“A silly question from a silly man.  Are you going to stir up these people for the violence I'm about to do or not?”  He asked, his tone cold as steel.  The announcer's eyes widened and even with all the paint on his face, Genji could see the faintest hint of a blush.

“Marvelous!  You've stolen my heart again Mr. Fox!”  The announcer crowed and twirled away from Genji to wave his fan above his head and draw the attention of the crowd.

“Dear patrons of Kansai Hall!  Are you prepared for the bloodshed that is surely to take place in mere moments?”  He sang and the crowd roared with a collectively eager bloodlust.  Genji eyed the other side of the ring as Kyoji entered and cocked an eyebrow when he saw the malevolence clearly displayed on the man's face.  Kyoji made a display of cracking knuckles and Genji chuckled to himself.  Clearly, he had struck a nerve by refusing his opponent's offer.  His eyes shifted back the crowd as the announcer continued his spiel.

“In this corner, a rising upstart that's quickly earned his contentious spot as a contender for the new champion of Kansai Hall, the titan-sized Kyoji!”  The announcer cried out and swept his fan towards Kyoji.  There was a mix of cheers and jeering insults, but the man barely noticed as his eyes were focused solely on Genji.  The announcer did another spin, the train of his kimono giving his movements an extra flourish as he pointed his fan at Genji.

“And in this corner, a crowd favorite with a flair for brutality ready to claim the title he has fought so viciously for, the mysterious One-eyed Fox!”  The noise swelled again with raucous cheers and it pleased Genji immensely that he had been well-received compared to Kyoji.

“Who will emerge victorious?  Who will claim the empty spot left by 'Furious' Fukuda as Kansai Hall's champion of the ring?!  I hope you've placed your bets for this will be a fight for the ages!”  The announcer's voice was shrill with excitement and he spun away from the center of the ring and hurriedly ran behind the rope as the bell clanged, the screams of the crowd growing into a fevered din of excitement.  Kyoji made a show of popping his shoulders and Genji used the spare moment to scan the crowd one last time.  His eye paused on a hooded figure and he immediately recognized the mouth and chin of a woman.  She seemed to feel his gaze on her as she drew her hood lower over her face.  A roar from his opponent snapped Genji's attention back to the ring as Kyoji darted forward, fist cocked back behind his head.  Shifting into a defensive stance, Genji prepared to counter the attack with the idea to break Kyoji's wrist as the giant's fist came hurtling toward him.  Suddenly, Kyoji's fist was knocked away as if he were a puppet yanked roughly on a string.  Eye wide with surprise, Genji stared at the man as he held his fist and muttered a curse.  Kyoji shot a dirty look into the crowd and Genji was quick to follow the glare.  An old man sitting close to the ring was cowering with a shaking hand raised as if in apology, his other hand buried in a bag of sweets.  Suspicion piqued, Genji realized the old man was surely Kyoji's father and he quickly searched the crowd for Hiromi.  He spotted the youth's wild auburn hair and waved sharply.  Hiromi's eyes widened with alertness and the youth struggled through the crowd to get to the ring, but too many people had surrounded the rope.  Shoving between the packed bodies, Hiromi called out to Genji.

“Who?”  The youth shouted.

“The old man!”  Genji yelled, but the youth gave him a confused look.  Yanking the scarf from his mouth, Genji started to shout again when a shout distracted him.  Kyoji dove for him again, his fist once again rocketing for Genji's face.  Twisting away from the blow, Genji grabbed the giant's arm and drove two sharp punches into his side.  A guttural gasp of pain burst from Kyoji as he stumbled forward, his face meeting the dirt of the ring with a loud thud.  Realizing he was now in danger of attack from whatever source was helping Kyoji cheat, Genji sucked in a deep breath and drew upon a reserve of energy he left untapped due to the adverse effects it had on his stamina.  He wrote the characters for 'old man' into his palm and clenched the fist tightly then looked at Hiromi.  The youth flinched and raised one hand to read the characters Genji had telepathically scratched into Hiromi's palm.  Instantly, Hiromi disappeared among the crowd and Genji's focus returned to Kyoji.  He was was lifting himself up from the dirt floor, blood oozing from his newly busted nose.  Genji stifled a chuckle and understood that, under different circumstances, Kyoji was in reality a terrible fighter.  He lacked any kind of coordination and Genji wondered how easily he could make the man lose any kind of focus.

“Already bleeding?  We've barely started!”  He taunted as he hopped from one foot to the other.  The goading had an instant effect, Kyoji spitting several curses as he turned to face Genji, his eyes ablaze with raw fury.

“I'll rip your other fucking eye out, ya bastard.”  Kyoji hissed.  Genji leaned forward and twisted his body into a dramatic pose then beckoned to his opponent.

“Oh my, if we're going to get that intimate will you at least buy me a few drinks first?”  He teased.  Kyoji visibly ground his teeth as a vein pulsed in his neck.

“I'll fucking kill ya!”  He roared and dashed forward.  Genji shifted back into a grappling stance as Kyoji let out a scream of fury.  He began dodging the storm of punches aimed for his head until an opening gave and he dropped to one knee, looping his arm around the leg Kyoji had the least amount of weight on. Twisting his body upside down, Genji looped his leg around the giant's side and toppled him to the floor when he twisted again.  He knew Kyoji would be able to get free in a matter of seconds, the man far too tall to subdue properly, and his eye flew to the crowd to find Hiromi.  Gritting his teeth against the pain as Kyoji clawed at the bare flesh of his stomach and feet, Genji saw the old man digging through the bag, a piece of candy between his fingers.  Realization dawned on him and he understood why Fukuda had felt bee stings; the old man was using copper balls disguised as candy to distract Kyoji's opponents just enough to give him the openings he needed as his clumsy fighting style would not afford him any.  His stare met the old man's and a fiendish grin with missing teeth twisted the old man's face.  The old man raised his hand with a ball wedged between two fingers, no doubt aiming for Genji's other eye, when Hiromi was birthed instantly from the crowd.  Slapping the old man's hand away, the youth snatched up the bag and zipped back into the crowd like some kind of trickster, leaving the old man dumbstruck.  The reality of what had happened dawned on the old man and he sprang to his feet to chase Hiromi's retreating form.  A satisfied grin twisted Genji's lips and he let go of Kyoji, rolling away from the man and hopping nimbly to his feet.  Kyoji shambled to his feet, his face and kimono patchy with dust and sweat as he turned a furious glare onto Genji. The man did not bother to try and form words anymore, his rage having taken any control he once had over his ability to utter insults. Instead, he screamed in fury and attacked wildly.  His punches and kicks were embarrassingly uncoordinated to the point Genji had some trouble predicting where the crazed giant was aiming half the time. Genji remained on the defensive, parrying blow after blow with his arms and legs.  Part of him felt that the more Kyoji struggled and revealed how awful of a fighter he actually was, Fukuda would be redeemed and maybe regain some of the respect he deserved.  Even the dark underbelly of the world had a sense of honor and Kansai Hall was no exception.  Kyoji lobbed another punch for his head and Genji once again parried with his forearm, but there was far more power behind the blow than he had prepared for and he felt a surge of pain course down his arm.  Despite his clumsiness, Kyoji was still a large man and if he could not best Genji in skill he would wear him down.  With the understanding his endurance was being severely limited, Genji let his guard fall open and braced himself for the next blow.  The fist came for his jaw but missed, Kyoji's knuckles instead glancing across Genji's brow.  Hot blood gushed from the cut just above his good eye thanks to the giant's bony knuckles and Genji spun away, pulling the scarf loose to dab the blood away as he quickly blinked away the blurriness that stole his vision.  The excitement of finally landing a proper blow had Kyoji's face lit with sadistic delight as he let out a wild shout of triumph.  Genji had to resist rolling his eye at the display.

Idiot.  He thought as he twisted his body back around, his vision clear, and smashed his fist across Kyoji's face. The giant's head snapped to one side, his eyes wide with surprise.  Genji followed through with his attack, falling forward into a spinning handstand and driving his heel into the soft part of Kyoji's ribs.  The giant's face turned a visible shade of green as he let out a guttural gasp of pain and fell back, his back hitting the rope as he slumped down.  Foaming vomit burst from the giant's mouth and spilled over his front as Genji fell into a crouch then stood back up.  He turned to the crowd and shrugged, the display sending the patrons into a frenzy.  The jeering cries for more filled his ears and his eye once again searched the crowd for the woman.  Genji's scarf had fallen loose around his shoulders, barely covering his face and blond hair anymore, when he finally found the hooded woman.  He caught her eyes for mere seconds when a scream from the announcer had his head snap back to Kyoji.  The man had regained his feet and was inches from crashing into him.

“A wrestling match now?  Haven't you had enough yet?”  He started then saw the knife too late.  Kyoji drove the knife into his side before he could react and Genji instead stared dumbly at the blood that burst over the man's fist as he sunk the blade to the hilt.  The pain did not register at first, instead livid fury bloomed across Genji's face as he looked at Kyoji.

“Did you just fucking stab me?”  Genji snapped incredulously.  His reaction seemed to stun Kyoji long enough that the hate in the man's eyes flashed to worry and he pulled the knife out, stumbling back from Genji.  Blood oozed from the wound, but Genji still did not feel the pain, his gaze focused solely on Kyoji.  The announcer dashed into the ring, pressing a sleeve clumsily over the wound.

“Enough!  This match is over!”  He shrieked and looked up at Genji, clear worry etched across his garish face.  “Mr. Fox, this isn't good!  You need to get stitched up right now!”  Genji pushed the announcer aside and made his way to Kyoji, his eye filled with cold fury.

“A knife?  It's not enough your old man is helping you cheat, but you bring a knife too?”  He spat.  Kyoji's worry morphed into fear, his hand visibly trembling as Genji made long strides to corner the man.  He let out a wild cry, clearly mixed with fear, and slashed at the air as Genji approached in the vain attempt to keep him away.

“A knife!”  Genji shouted, his scarf falling away as he countered Kyoji's wild slashes, his hand striking forward and grabbing the arm that held the knife.  “If you're going to be a fucking cheat, at least be creative about it!”  Twisting the giant's wrist, Kyoji let out a scream of pain as his wrist snapped, the bloodied knife falling to the floor.  The scream was silenced as Genji drove a punch into the man's throat.  Kyoji's face turned ashen with pain and he slumped forward as he gasped for breath, his eyes bulging.  The tassels of his superfluous headband fell over his shoulders and Genji grabbed them.  With a hard yank, Genji dragged the giant downward and drove his knee into Kyoji's face.  There was an audible crunch as Kyoji's nose was broken again and Genji shoved him away, a smear of blood staining the knee of his hakama, and the giant fell like some kind of ridiculous tree.  The floor rattled with the weight of his body and his eyes glazed over as he stared at the ceiling.  Genji loomed over the giant and raised one bare foot, pressing it into the defeated man's throat.  Kyoji meekly tried to beg for his life, his voice little more than a whisper as blood gushed down his face.  There were tears in his eyes but Genji felt nothing, only the cold satisfaction of accomplishing what had become a mission to him.  There was a moment in which he considered the benefits versus the consequences of killing the man that had, quite literally, become a thorn in his side.  The screams for Kyoji's death rang in his ears, but they morphed into white noise as he stared at the man beneath him.  Kyoji's hands weakly pushed at his foot, his lips wet with blood and foam as he continued to plead for his life, but it was the remorse in the man's eyes that gave Genji the closure he needed.  He lifted his foot away and the man drew in a rattling breath before coughing and choking.  Genji leaned over the man and gave him a vicious smile.

“Take my advice; leave this region.  If you don't and I see your face anywhere in Oshu again, I'll kill you and your old man.  Sounds good, right?”  He hissed gleefully.  Kyoji's eyes widened and he nodded quickly as his rattling breath came faster.  Genji straightened back up and stepped away from Kyoji's crumpled form, a mix of boos and cheers welcoming him.  He looked to the announcer as he moved across the ring and scooped up his forgotten scarf.

“Well?”  He said as the announcer stared at him with beguiled wonder.  Snapped back to reality, the announcer snapped his fan open and let out a giddy squeal of delight.

“The One-eyed Fox has triumphed!  Feast your eyes upon Kansai Hall's newest champion!”  He screamed and dashed to Genji's side, taking his arm and holding it high.  Genji smirked then winced as the movement pulled at his side and he remembered the wound.  His arm started to fall and the announcer took his weakened state as an opportunity to drape Genji's arm around his shoulders. Genji sighed and leaned against the flamboyant man, accepting the relief of someone else taking his weight as he was suddenly very tired.  As the announcer helped him from the ring, Hiromi was waiting with worried eyes and immediately crouched to observe the wound in his side.

“This is pretty bad...”  The youth started but Genji responded with a grumble.

“Tell me something I don't know.”  The older man hissed as the pain started to worsen and he looked at the announcer.  “Mind helping get me to a room so my retainer can patch me up?”  Joy bloomed across the man's face.

“Absolutely!”  He said shrilly and Genji looked at his apprentice.

“Collect my winnings and we'll get out of here.”  He ordered and Hiromi nodded reluctantly.  As the announcer walked Genji out of the makeshift arena and into the hall, he stole one last glance into the crowd but was unable to find the hooded woman.  Sighing in defeat, he let the night end on what he supposed was a high note.  

The sky was tinged bluish yellow with approaching dawn once Genji and Hiromi had returned to the castle, the journey having taken much longer than intended when the pain became too much and Genji had begged his apprentice to buy some form of liquor to dull the worst of it.  Happily drunk and finally resting, Genji stared at the sky as Hiromi washed the wound again and set to work sewing it closed.

“Will I live?”  He teased as his words slurred.  

“I'll be surprised if you don't get some kind of infection.”  Hiromi muttered, tying off the last of the stitches.

“Why would I be worried?  I have my wonderful apprentice's magical skills as an apothecary to save me.”  He continued and let out a low laugh then winced as it tugged the stitches.

“Stop moving, you idiot.”  Hiromi snapped and washed the last of the dried blood away.  “You'll bust them open if you don't stop moving around.”  Genji complied and took another long drink from the bottle of plum wine he had been gifted by his apprentice.

“Don't be moody, you got quite a lot of money tonight you know.”  He sang and eyed the youth.  Hiromi paused for a moment in consideration and Genji detected a secret behind the youth's eyes. He was about to question Hiromi's expression when the youth brushed a yellow salve across the wound.  A hiss coupled with pain and irritation rose from Genji but Hiromi ignored it and pressed a bandage over the wound.

“Whiner.”  Hiromi said and tapped at the older man's shoulder.  “Sit up, I need to finish wrapping it.”   Genji struggled to sit up and swayed with the haze of drink as Hiromi wound fresh bandages around his stomach.

“Keep out of trouble for at least two days.  Can you manage that?”  The youth sighed.  Genji chuckled.

“Yes, mother.”  He teased and laughed again when his apprentice slapped the back of his head.

The pain in his ribs had been numbed thanks to the salve, but the sharp ache of it had returned as dawn fully rose and disturbed him from sleep.  He cursed loudly as he sat up and the previous night replayed in his head and he cursed again, this time at himself, for not having paid attention more to Kyoji's dirty antics.  Genji recalled having drunkenly convinced Hiromi to take up his morning duties of escorting and watching over the Date women in his stead, but the youth had warned him that he would be noticed missing if he did not put in an appearance at some point despite how disheveled a lack of sleep and pain may cause him.  Alone in the room as Hiromi had most likely left hours ago, Genji pulled up one of the floorboards and found the jug of sake he had stolen weeks prior.  Taking several long gulps, he fell back against the bedding with a weary sigh and passed out once the alcohol numbed the pain again.  When he awoke, it was afternoon and the ache in his ribs had shifted from needle-sharp to a dull throb whenever he took too deep of a breath.  Genji dressed after he had washed the night sweat from his body and left the servants' quarters to find his apprentice.  As usual, the Date women were engaged with afternoon tea in one of the vast inner gardens, their bird-like voices chattering away.  He noted the familiar blue and silver furisode was not among the women and he motioned to Hiromi.  The youth hurried to his side, eyes never leaving the walls of the inner garden.

“Where is Lady Irohahime?”  Genji asked sliding his hands inside his robes.

“She asked to be left alone to pray in one of the private houses.”  Hiromi explained and gestured to the far end of the garden.  “I can manage the women here, but I feel uneasy if she continues to be on her own.”

“Women are private creatures.  She's probably writing poetry or reading like she usually does.”  He sighed and leaned heavily against a pillar, his eye drifting shut.  The cutting words they had shared the day before replayed in his mind and the smallest twinge of regret pulled at his stomach.  Hiromi's thick brows knit together angrily.

“Stop being so damned lazy.”  Hiromi hissed and shoved at the older man.  “You're being paid to do basically nothing now thanks to the win last night.  The least you could do is just watch her.”  Genji fixed his apprentice with a sour look.

“Watching snails in the dirt would hold more appeal.”  He scoffed, but moved away from the pillar before Hiromi could shove him again.  “I'll go and watch over the sulking princess.”  Letting out an exasperated sigh, Genji left the inner garden and made his way through the corridors to the private house Hiromi had indicated.  It was a small, but cozy building, just as ornate as the rest of the castle and seemed barely larger than a typical shrine. As Genji approached the sliding door, he paused when the sound of labored breathing and the whistle of a weapon against the air met his ears.  His steps instantly silent, he nudged the sliding door open just enough to glance inside the building.  It was empty, save for a very small weapons rack, holding little more than a set of swords and practice swords.  However, it was the building's sole inhabitant that had his full attention.  The absent blue and silver furisode was folded neatly beside the weapons along with her wooden shoes and, far more interesting, the rest of her clothes.  In the middle of the room was Irohahime, her fingers tight around the hilt of a practice sword as she drew in a steadying breath.  Sweat glistened against her chest and arms, the skin bare to the air as the sleeves of her nagajuban hung at her waist.  His gaze drifted to her exposed thigh, her leg thrust forward between the slit of her robes as she took a new stance.  A slow breath rose from her and he noticed the binding of her sarashi around her chest was starting to come undone, but she did not seem to notice as she tensed and began to swing the practice sword.  Her voice rang out with each fierce swing and for several long moments, Genji was content to observe her intense dedication.  It surprised him that she was not unskilled in the art of swordsmanship and he recalled the books she had left behind in the library.  Curious, he nudged open the door quietly so as not to distract her and continued to watch her.  She was so focused on improving her strikes, her stance, her pattern of attack and defense, he very nearly burst out laughing when she finally noticed his presence and the sword fell from her hands.  The clatter rang through the empty building and she stared at him blankly as she sucked in several breaths before coming to her senses.

“How dare you!”  She snapped and spun away from his watchful eye as she hurried to fix her clothes.  “What are you doing here?”  Genji stifled a laugh and entered the building, sliding the door shut behind him to give her some means of privacy.

“Watching you.  I recall that being my job, is it not?”  He teased and she fixed him with a sharp glare as she tied her robe shut.  Sweat began to permeate the back of her nagajuban and he could not help recalling the fine lines of her stomach and back.

“I do not appreciate your way of appearing wherever you please with little to no sound to alert one of your presence.”  She muttered then turned to face him.  “Why are you watching me?  I told your retainer I wished for privacy.”

“I am aware.”  Genji replied and his eye shifted to the sword on the floor.  “I just did not care.”  Her brows furrowed even more with anger.

“I asked you a question.”  She demanded as he lifted the sword, twisting it this way and that as he inspected it.  He did not answer for a moment until he started to feel the furious aura rising off her.

“Because I wanted to.  Why are you practicing all alone?  Is there some rule that the women are not allowed to learn with the men when it comes to combat?”  He asked absently.  Irohahime snatched the sword back when he held it out to her.

“It is none of your business.”  She answered firmly as she crossed the room to place the sword back among the others.

“Indeed it is not, but I am still going to ask.”  He smirked and approached her as she knelt in front of the small pile of clothes.  She was silent for a long moment, then rested a hand on her furisode.

“Because I am not allowed to.”  She said coldly.  “My father says the last place a woman belongs is the battlefield.”

“And you wish to prove him wrong.”  Genji commented and she looked at him.  

“And you would think me wrong to try to?”  There was heat in her voice, but Genji only met her fire with a smirk.

“I think nothing, my lady.  I am merely curious if a woman such as yourself truly believes she is capable of besting a man at something nature has borne him for.”  The fire gave way to molten fury as she shot to her feet, her hands grasping the practice sword.

“Would you like to find out?”  She spat, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip on the sword.  Genji's smirk turned into an interested smile.

“Oh absolutely, my lady.”  He teased and let his haori drop to the floor as he kicked off his sandals.  Taking one of the practice swords, he walked to the center of the room languidly, twisting the sword from one hand to the next to test the weight before his gaze returned to Irohahime.  The fury was still visible in her eyes but it had shifted to razor sharp focus as she took her stance.  He faced her, keeping the sword in one hand, his other at his back as he observed several key points in her stance.

“Well, go on then.  Best me, my lady.”  His tone was mocking and it had the desired effect of setting her off.  She dashed forward, bringing the sword down with an angry cry, but he easily parried the blow and side-stepped out of her line of attack.  There had been considerable strength behind the blow, but with anger blinding her, she would be easy to best and he knocked the tip of his sword against her lower back.

“You're dead.”  He said matter-of-factly and she whirled on him, bringing the sword down again.  He deflected her strike again and pushed her back.  “You should never be emotional when you fight.  Did your books not teach you that?”  She came at him again and he side-stepped once more, raising his sword to parry her next blow, but she surprised him.  Instead of swinging for his head again, she dropped to one knee and swung for his legs.  Genji barely had a moment to react and he flipped away from her strike instinctively.  When the world righted itself, Irohahime was on him again and he was genuinely surprised by her speed.  She began to drive him back with a flurry of strikes, giving him mere seconds to parry each blow.  His teeth grit when he attempted to push back at her, the pull against his wound reawakening the throbbing pain.  A flash of realization crossed her face and she shifted her stance, sending a wave of quick strikes against his sword.  The power behind her attacks was substantially less than her previous strikes, but she made up for the lack of power with her speed and Genji found himself stuck defending as he searched for an opening long enough to shove her away.  The pain grew worse, no longer the dull throb but returning to the needle-sharp prickling each time he drew in a breath or tensed his muscles.  He was equal parts frustrated and impressed she had sussed out his injury and taken advantage of it.

“You think me a fool?  Some little girl that pretends at swordplay?”  She spat as she struck again and again.  “You should have known better than to come at an opponent when you have an injury.”  Her strikes came faster and Genji's breathing grew shallow as he fought against the pain in his side.

“You would show no mercy to a wounded opponent?”  He strained to keep the teasing smile on his face, a cold sweat starting at his back.  “How cruel.”

“Cruelty and mercy have nothing to do with it.”  She thundered.  “If you are unprepared, you die.  That is a fact of war.”  Genji accepted he would never find an opening through her strikes in an honorable sense, so he defaulted to his usual methods. It was not that he did not respect her fervor and were he an honorable man he would certainly have fought as such, but honor was not something he was entirely beholden to.  The second she brought her sword down to strike, he dropped to one knee and held his sword in both hands to shield his throat and chest.  Surprise distorted her concentration and she was off balance when her sword dipped farther than she was prepared for, her balance instantly thrown off.  When the wood connected, the impact hard enough to rattle her grip, Genji twisted and knocked the sword out of her hands.  His hand struck out, fingers closing around her wrist, and he twisted her arm as he jumped back to his feet.  A cry of pain rose from her and she collapsed to the floor heavily.  Able to overpower her physically, he pinned her to the floor, the tip of his sword at her throat.

“Fair enough, my lady.”  He maintained his grin even as the color drained from his face, the physical stress sending slivers of pain up his chest and back.  The fury was back in her eyes.

“You would use cheap tricks to win?  You are not an honorable man.”  Her tone was venomous.

“I never claimed to be one.”  He half shrugged and stood up away from her.  “Do you yield?”

“Never.”  She hissed as she scrambled back to her feet.  Genji was taken aback when she grabbed up her sword and turned to face him again.

“I have bested you, my lady.  There is no need to continue.”  He said but she took her stance.

“You have bested nothing.  You used a coward's method to escape my attacks instead of facing me as a man should.”  She darted forward giving him barely a second to raise his sword and parry.  Genji dodged her blows, raising his sword enough to knock away her attacks meant for his head as he stared at her incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?  Why is it such a terrible thing to be bested by a man in combat when you could have talents elsewhere?”  He asked.

“Because I will not be told I am weaker simply for what lies between my legs!  I will prove I am as capable as my brothers, as my father, of being a leader!  I am worthy to lead my clan as well as any lord!”  She cried, her sword meeting his with such strength it rattled his grip.  Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and Genji felt something small and dormant stir inside him at her vulnerable display.  He continued to parry her blows and the tears began to stream down her face.

“Fight me!  Do not look down on me!”  She all but screamed.  “Do not be gentle because I am a woman!”

“That would defeat the purpose of my being your protector, wouldn't it?”  He replied mockingly as he side-stepped again and again.  “Harming you is out of the question, my lady.”

“You insult me again!  I will hear no more of it from a degenerate such as you!”  She began to drive him back again with her flurry of quick strikes and Genji prepared to disarm her once more.  When she drew back, he dropped to his knee again but his eye widened when her stance changed suddenly and her sword swung in a wide arc.  It connected with his side and the pain was so sudden that shock numbed all sensation until a wave of agony tore through him.  A guttural gasp filled with equal parts surprise and misery burst from Genji as he fell back, his sword clattering to the floor.  His back met the floorboards with a loud thud and further knocked the wind from his body.  Flooded with pain and dizziness, Genji saw spots dance across his vision and wondered if he might black out.  It had been some time since he had been in such a horrible state, the only other time comparable to it being the incident where he had lost his fingers and eye.  When the needle-sharp sensation began to subside, he felt a weight press against his chest and his vision slowly returned as the spots ebbed away.  Irohahime stood over him, her sword pointed at his throat as her foot pinned him.

“Yield.”  She ordered.  Genji was almost angry with her and a criticism of her own dirty tactics was on his tongue until he saw the look in her eyes.  There was the anger, the determination, the desire to win, but also the unmistakable thrill of pleasure.  In that instant, he drank in the sight of her and saw her in a way that he finally understood the unnatural restlessness that had plagued him since he had first laid eyes on her.  Her nagajuban had fallen open, the sarashi biding her breasts having loosened more and giving away the fullness of her breasts as they rose and fell with each of her labored breaths.  Sweat beaded down the taut skin of her thigh and calf as she pressed her foot into his chest and he could feel the strength in her legs, a strength that was in stark contrast to the delicate frailty of a pampered noble woman.

“And if I do not?”  His voice was low, but still filled with his teasing.  Her bare toes dug into his chest as she pressed her weight onto the ball of her foot.  It sent a shiver of pain and, to his now realized delight, arousal through him.  His reaction had an effect on her, the anger giving way to hazy excitement.

“Then I will hit you again until I have you blubbering like a punished child.”  She warned, pressing the tip of the sword against his throat.  Instinctively, his hands moved to her leg.  The tips of his fingers left the ghost of a touch behind as he traced them up her calf to pause at her knee.

“Would that please you, my lady?”  His voice grew thick with anticipation.  The anger was gone, replaced entirely with a strange lust as her eyes bore into him.

“Perhaps.  You have greatly offended me to the point I wonder what I should make you do to earn your way back into my good graces.”  There was the barest hint of a smile at her lips but not out of kindness.  There was something carnal, almost sadistic hiding behind her restraint and he found himself eager to see what she would do were it unleashed.  His fingers drifted down her leg and dropped to his sides in surrender, his devilish grin meeting hers.

“Do as you will.”  He breathed as a need unlike any he had known before coursed through his blood hotly.  Something snapped inside her and Irohahime moved without a thought for the consequences.  She lifted her foot, her balance sure, and hovered her toes above his mouth.

“You can earn some of my forgiveness by first kissing my toes.”  She demanded, her tone failing to sound authoritative and betraying hints of her glee.  Without hesitation, he held her foot to steady her and brushed the smooth digits against his lips, a virulent thrill pulsing through his loins as he did so.  His lips parted as he tasted her skin with his tongue, an eagerness to please her flooding his mind, the pain forgotten and replaced by raw pleasure.  He cared little for the state of her feet, consumed by the heady rush of tasting her skin as his thoughts raced to the forbidden possibilities of what the rest of her might taste like, might feel like, against his tongue.  Irohahime's breathing grew shallow and erratic as she watched him obey her without protest, heat rising in her cheeks as a tightness coiled in her abdomen, an unmistakable throb starting between her thighs.  She bit at her lip as the tip of his tongue slid over her skin and she felt a shiver of pleasure rise through her body at the thought of his exploratory technique at use elsewhere.  An image flashed in her mind at the implication and she gasped, her senses slamming her back to reality.  She yanked away from him as if she had been burned, her eyes wild with horror. Pulled from the haze of lust as she drew away suddenly, the pain sobered Genji enough to have him sit up on his elbows and watch her as she quickly threw her clothes back on.

“I apologize.  I seem to have let my anger get the better of me.”  She said quickly.  Genji could hear the waver in her voice.

“I would not call that anger, my lady.”  He started, his tone attempting to sound playful, but she did not respond with the usual quip he had begun to expect as part of their banter. Instead, she did not look at him at all and he was not sure if the pain he felt in that moment was thanks to his ribs or the wall that had gone up between them.

“Please excuse me.”  She ignored his comment and hurried out of the building.  Genji was beyond dumbstruck at her sudden departure and the shift in mood quickly gave way to frustration.  There were several barbing insults at his tongue as a different kind of misery now plagued him and he dropped back to the floor in defeat.  The agony of denial would no doubt put him in a mood worse than any other he had displayed thus far and he resigned to the only outlet he felt would silence the heat that now consumed him. 

His irritation was palpable as he slammed the sliding door shut so hard it rattled off the track, but Genji ignored it as he left the private building.  Avoiding the women in case Irohahime was among them, he took to pacing around the vast castle grounds for what felt like hours.  His exhaustion, soreness, and pain from the gash in his side was nothing compared to the neglected lust that plagued his peace of mind.  For a split second, his thoughts drifted to one of the kitchen maids and an obvious solution but his single-targeted arousal dulled before growing far worse.  He wanted her, every inch of her.  Not just her body that in his mind was the embodiment of his desires, but the fire behind her eyes.  As he continued his long strides across the grounds, the memories of his time spent with Lady Murasaki's kunoichi in training of the seductive arts was forgetful at best.  He tried to reason that he was simply putting her upon some kind of pedestal, that he was building up an impossible experience and that was the only reason he felt so utterly drawn to her.  

“Leave my head, you damned succubus.”  He muttered angrily.  The servants quarters appeared and he contemplated the sake hidden in the floorboards.  His nerves calmed when he paused to suck in a deep breath, giving his mind a moment to quiet.  The heat of his blood began to cool until he recalled the sound of her labored breathing as she loomed over him, the flush of her cheeks as he ran his tongue over her skin, the soft sigh that had escaped her lips almost unheard as he submitted to her.  Genji punched a fist through the paper of the sliding door.  Regret followed his madness when he realized what he had done and he entered his shared room.  Hiromi was still on duty, the good little imp, and he yanked up the floorboard and fished out the ceramic jug.  He drank like a man parched from a summer heat, the sting of the sake burning the back of his throat. The jug was empty after a few moments and he fell back heavily on the floorboards, his eye staring at the rafters overhead.  His restlessness returned and he sighed in defeat when he was unable to remove her face from his mind.  Knowing it would not completely abate his frustration, he loosened the sash of his tattsuke-hakama and slid a hand inside.  The unfamiliar action unnerved him, but it would quiet the new demon in his head at least for the moment and he closed his eye as her face filled his mind.  

He emerged from the servants quarters an hour later as evening fell.  Slipping among the crowd of castle workers as he made his way through the halls to find Hiromi, he paused a moment to collect himself before he entered the tearoom.  Irohahime was not among her sisters and Genji nudged Hiromi once he was next to the youth.  Hiromi looked up at him in surprise.

“You were gone for some time.  I was told by one of Lady Irohahime's handmaids that she was retiring for the night.” Hiromi's eyes narrowed at the older man.  “What did you do?” Genji stared at the youth blankly then looked at the sisters.

“Nothing that concerns you.” He said vaguely and turned away.  “I'll be checking the halls.”  In truth, he actually wanted to avoid people.  The scowl on his face was enough to frighten any maids that happened across him in the hallways and he scoffed at their hurried footsteps.  Genji avoided the main hall as dinner began, choosing to stay in the inner garden.  The sky was clear finally and he stared at the waning moon through the branches of the peach tree as he leaned against the thick trunk.  The wind slid through his hair soft as fingers, still cool from the rain.  He longed for the comfort the atmosphere of tranquility could bring, but this new demon that now chewed at the edges of his sanity would not be quieted.  With a muttered curse, he left the garden and made his way to the servants quarters.  He would not be interrupted as he dug through Hiromi's side of the room, dinner in the main hall still in progress.  Genji let out a string of curses as he searched through the youth's drawers and upended a knapsack when the door slid open and he looked up with irritation.  Hiromi was staring at him in shock, two bowls of steaming rice held in each hand.  An uncomfortable pause hung between them.

“What are you doing?”  Hiromi's voice was small and filled with worry.  Genji grumbled angrily and stood up, ignoring the mess he had made.  

“Where's the yellow salve?”  He demanded.

“The what?”

“The yellow salve!”  He snapped.  “The one you used on me years ago when I was stabbed in the throat.  You know which one.”  Hiromi flinched at his sharp words.

“I-I don't know if I have any.  You know how hard it is to make...”  The youth started.

“I don't give a shit.  Where is it?”  Genji ordered.  Real fear filled Hiromi's eyes and the youth took a step back.

“Genji, you're scaring me.”  Hiromi said quietly, taking another step back.  Genji took long strides across the room then towered over the youth.  

“Where, is, it?”  He asked, teeth grit as he punctuated each word.  Hiromi began to tremble and Genji raised a hand to slap one of the bowls away.  Sanity pierced through the haze of anger and Genji realized what he was doing.  Disgusted with himself, he pushed past the youth with a whispered apology and disappeared into the darkness.  For hours, Genji paced the entirety of Yonezawa castle like some restless spirit.  When he did finally collapse from exhaustion, he did not return to the servants quarters out of guilt for his behavior towards Hiromi.  Instead, he crawled into an empty stall in the stables and fell asleep among the stink of animals.  

Genji woke the next morning to the sound of whinnying horses and he remembered where he was and instantly regret his actions the night before.  Leaving the stables, he made his way to the servants quarters and was careful to avoid being seen as he was a mess of sweat, dirt, and hay.  When he approached the door to his and Hiromi's room, he pressed a hand to the door gently to alert the youth of his presence.

“Hiromi?”  He called out softly.  There was no reply.  Sliding open the door slowly, Genji glanced inside but there was no sign of the youth.  He could not help a small smile as he stepped into the room, seeing it was cleaned after his madness the night before.

You are a good, responsible child.  He chuckled pitifully.  Genji closed the door and removed his robes to wash himself.  Pouring water over the lumpy wound on his side, he scratched away the crusting salve and was pleasantly surprised to see the skin had closed.  Touching it with careful fingers, the skin was still tender, but the stitches would no longer be necessary.  He thought to rebuke Hiromi for trying to have him behave for a few days in the event the wound would reopen, but he realized he was in no position to belittle his apprentice at all.  Filled with regret for his anger the previous night, Genji thought of ways he could fix the damage he had done.  He realized he had never raised his voice in such a way, at least not towards Hiromi, nor had he ever acted like some kind of crazed addict desperate for a fix.  The comparison had him pause and he realized that Irohahime was in part to blame for his behavior, the effect she had over him something he had never had to deal with.  While it was unfair to shift all blame onto the woman, Genji was still bitter and instead told himself it was a new test he must overcome.  He knew the itch would not go away for some time and the distraction brought by Kansai Hall would be the only thing for it until he could properly get a handle on his emotions, and lust.  Once finished with his bath, he cut away the stitches and pressed at the tender skin.  It was still very freshly healed and would break if he was not careful, making him partially reconsider engaging in a fight. However, his lack of self-control won out and he decided that if the wound opened again he would just stitch it back himself so as not to bother Hiromi.  Dressed in fresh robes, he was now faced with the matter of apologizing to his apprentice.  Genji thought of the times he had been put in a similar position with the youth, but he was unsure what he could do to regain a trust he had no doubt damaged.   Leaving the servants quarters, Genji made his way to the inner garden as the morning was still young and the Date women would still be at breakfast.  As he entered the garden, he noticed a shape in the large peach tree and recognized the occupant, the dark reddish brown hair in a tousled, curly mess a dead giveaway.  As he approached the base of the tree, Hiromi refused to look at him, eyes trained on a book.  

“Hiromi.”  Genji said, but the youth did not reply. A silence fell between them, the only sound being the morning birds and the rustle of leaves in the cool breeze.  Hiromi's eyes stayed on the pages of the book, but there was a distinct furrow to the youth's eyebrows that did not go unnoticed by the older man.  Genji sighed and leaned against the tree.

“It is the silent treatment then?  I suppose that's what I deserve.”  He said and closed his eye.  “I know my apologizing will not be enough to excuse my behavior, but you deserve that at least.  I am sorry, Hiromi.  You did not need to be treated in such a way.  Is there anything at all I can do to come back into your favor?”  Hiromi remained silent and Genji accepted that the youth would be the one in control of their relationship for the time being.  Genji sighed again and pushed away from the tree.  

“I will leave you be.  If you wish it, have the day to yourself.  I will watch over the women.”  He said then cursed loudly when something hit the back of his head.  Genji shot a look at his apprentice, but Hiromi's eyes were still on the book, however the youth's expression was hot with anger.  Rubbing the back of his head, Genji saw a small leather-bound notebook in the grass and realized it was the object Hiromi had chucked at his head.  Picking it up, he looked at the youth expectantly.  

“Buy all the herbs on the tenth page and maybe I'll forgive you.”  Hiromi muttered.  Genji smirked.  

“As you wish, dear apprentice.”  Genji turned and left the inner garden.  

The women had expressed a desire to shop in town so Genji and Hiromi prepared and waited at the castle gates with the usual entourage of guards.  Irohahime was not among her sisters when the women gathered at the gates with their retinue of handmaidens and retainers.  Curious, Genji gently nudged one of the handmaidens.  

“Where is Lady Irohahime?” He asked nonchalantly and she sighed.  

“The Lady has fallen ill it seems.  She asked to not be disturbed for the day.  It's not entirely a surprise, the weather seems to have made her particularly vulnerable as of late.” She explained.  Genji eyed her with interest.  

“Lady Irohahime does not seem the type to falter easily with sickness.  As a bodyguard, is there something I should be aware of concerning her health?”  He crossed his arms and adopted a stoic expression.  The maid wrung her hands and looked cautiously about before lowering her voice.  

“The truth of the matter is, and this is but a rumor the maids have been sharing, but I have heard talk that the Lady Irohahime has a secret lover.”  She whispered.  Genji's fingers dug into his arms as the maid continued.  “There have been days where the Lady has refused to leave her room and when she has been attended to, she looks sleep-deprived in the worst way.  As I said though, it is just a rumor.”  Genji sniffed to illustrate his disinterest in the maid's story.  

“I highly doubt the Lady Irohahime would stoop to the low of an intrigue with some unknown knave.  She has not only her reputation to consider, but the Date clan's as well.”  His tone was more bitter than he intended and the maid visibly flinched away.  

“I-I suppose that is true, perhaps it is a rumor that should be put to bed as it were.”  She replied softly.  Genji's grip on his sleeves loosened.

“See that it is.”  He moved away from the maid and took up the rear and motioned for Hiromi to travel ahead as usual. 

His thoughts were a mess still, but he dug in deep to his resolve to watch the crowd, his hand on the hilt of his sword and thumb flicking at the hilt every few seconds.   The intrusiveness of Lady Irohahime lessened as he threw himself into his work, his eye scanning the streets in all manner of dark corners.  The crowd was especially thick thanks to the mild weather with the added sunshine after the summers squalls that had blown through in almost rapid succession. Genji fell back just enough to be disassociated with the entourage to maintain the advantage of surprise in case a foe decided to try his luck.  As his eye moved over face after face, he settled on a young man as a strange sense of familiarity fell over him.  The young man had been watching the entourage with fascination, his long black hair pinned up in a way that was more suited to a woman, his loose robes swaying in the breeze as they hung from his wiry frame.  His eyes left the entourage and met Genji's sharp gaze.  Eyes widening, a giddy smile broke across the young man's face and he left his place in the crowd to dash across the street in Genji's direction.  With grim realization, Genji recognized the young man's flamboyant gait as that of the announcer of Kansai Hall.  He was nearly unrecognizable without the garish makeup.  Genji slipped away from the entourage completely to draw the young man away, recalling his foolishness for not hiding his face better at the fight, and drew up his hood. Disappearing into an alley, he listened for the hurried footsteps until they were nearly behind him and he whirled around.  The young man's eyes widened and he let out a small cry, but Genji silenced it as he pinned him to the wall, his arm against the young man's throat.

“Don't hurt me, Mr. Fox!  I just wanted to give you a warning!” He gasped and held up his hands in surrender.  Genji kept his arm in place, his expression stone.

“Speak your warning.  Fast.”  He growled, loosening his grip just enough so the man could breathe.  The young man sucked in a breath, then coughed before he continued.

“Don't go back to Kansai Hall!  You were supposed to lose against Kyoji!  It was a rigged game and certain patrons lost a lot of money because of you!” He cried, his eyes wild with fear. Genji remained stone-faced, inwardly groaning as he recalled his apprentice's, now confirmed, suspicions.  

“Of course it was.” He muttered and let the young man go.  “I suppose they are none too happy with me.”  The young man rubbed his throat and shook his head.

“The Yakuza that frequent Kansai don't like how unpredictable you are and really don't like how you've been beating their plants before they can even get to the later rounds.  Fukuda was paid to take a dive against Kyoji, but refused.  You know how that went...”  He explained and Genji shot the young man a look.  

“What happened to Fukuda?  Is he still there?” Genji was careful to keep the concern out of his voice.  The young man shook his head.

“Not since you fought Kyoji.  He said he didn't owe Kansai Hall anything anymore and he left.  Last I heard, he was going back to Osaka.”   “Probably for the best.” Genji replied and he gave the young man a pointed look.  “Tell your patrons I'm taking a dive.  This will be my last fight.”  The young man clapped his hands over his mouth in shock before he spoke again.  

“You can't!  There's already a plan to kill you when you go back!” He said urgently, grasping one of Genji's hands tightly.  Genji was silent for a long moment as the young man's grip tightened on his hand, his face twisted with consternation.  Coming to a decision, Genji smiled at the young man.

“Tell your boss, your patrons, whoever you need to that this will be my last fight and I will take a dive so they can write off their losses.”  Genji scoffed.  “I'll even make it look good, my only terms being that I get to leave alive at the end of the night.”  Worry still clouded the young man's eyes.

“Mr. Fox, don't do this.  You don't know what these people are like.”  The young man started, but Genji pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.  

“I know exactly what those people are like.”  He said with a devilish grin.  A red blush rose in the young man's face, his eyes wide as Genji withdrew his finger.  “I suggest after this next fight you make tracks getting away from that place.”  The young man did not answer at first, having slumped to his knees as he stared blankly ahead as Genji made his way lazily from the alley. After a pause, the young man remembered himself, a wild grin on his face as he called after Genji in a lilting voice.

“Who knew the One-eyed Fox led such a scandalous life!  Brawler by night, bodyguard for Lord Date by day!”  He sang, his hands pressed to his still hot cheeks.  “It's so romantic!” Genji turned to eye the young man.  

“Keep it to yourself, Mr. Announcer.”  He warned.  

“Mr. Fox, I would take every secret you spared me to my grave!”  He jumped up and followed with a sweeping bow.  Genji could not help a chuckle.  

“What is your name, you strange fool?”

“I am called Hikaru by Kansai Hall, but I wish for you to know me as Kendo.”  The young man grinned.  

“Perhaps our paths will cross again, young Kendo.” Genji smiled and disappeared from the alley and back into the crowd, the young man known as Kendo dropping to his knees again as he pressed a hand against a furiously beating heart.

Night had fallen and Genji had finished tying his sash in place when the door slid open a crack.  He looked up and met Hiromi's gaze, half of it obscured by the door.  

“Your side isn't healed yet.”  The youth mumbled. Genji looked away and tied his sandals on.  

“It won't matter, this is my last fight.  I won't be going again.”  He explained with a vacant smile.  Hiromi's expression changed immediately.

“What's happened?”  The youth demanded.  

“Fret not.  I was given a warning while we were about town today and I intend to heed it.  I've made too much of a scene as it were.”  He said and pushed the door open the rest of the way and looked down at his young apprentice with a smile now filled with self deprecation.  “You were right to judge my actions.”  He patted Hiromi's head, tousling the wild curls.  The youth grumbled softly but accepted the affection.  

“Don't die.”  Hiromi muttered, but the tone that was meant to sound threatening bore a hint of pleading.  The youth shoved past Genji and he could not resist a chuckle as he closed the door.  As he made his way through the grounds his hand slid inside his robes, a finger running over the chain of his manriki-gusari tied at his hip.  

Genji was not able to tune out the roar of the crowd tonight, his usual grasp at mediation having slipped away.  The realization that he was most likely going to suffer the beating of is life had him on edge, but it did not compare to the disappointment he felt knowing he would not be able to relish in something that had given him meaning.  To distract from his woe, he took to stretching to gauge how taxing movement would be on his side.  Even when he favored his wound, he would not be able to perform as well as he would like.  Genji was pulled form his thoughts by a sudden, almost panicked knocking at the door.  Cracking it slightly, he recognized the sharp face belonging to the announcer Kendo.

“Is it time already?”  Genji's eye narrowed as he studied the young man.  “You're not wearing make-up.”  The young man had a tension about him akin to a frightened rabbit and he looked around quickly before meeting Genji's suspicious gaze.

“I gave them your message Mr. Fox, but I'm not going to stick around tonight.  They're up to something and I don't want to be here when whatever happens, happens.” Kendo said quickly.  Genji was not surprised by the news and pondered over his options.  

“Can you do one last favor for me?”  He asked.  The young man bit at his lip then nodded.

“Take this.”  Genji handed him his robes and haori, the manriki-gusari hidden inside.  “hide these in the back alley under the hall's doorway.  I have a suspicion they won't be here when I'm done otherwise.”  Kendo took the belongings then tucked them inside his robes.  

“Be careful Mr. Fox.” He said, taking one last long, wistful look at Genji's face before he disappeared down the hallway.  Genji closed the door and pulled his hood up.  He pressed a hand against his side and drew in a steadying breath.  

I'll listen next time Hiromi, I promise.  

Genji was finally summoned some time later, the doors sliding open to the crowd as they jeered and cried out with their usual fevered bloodlust.  Genji did not choose to showboat, preferring to stay solemn and tense as he slid under the ropes and into the ring.  Kendo had fled, leaving no announcer to rile up the crowd, instead three men were waiting for him.  Genji's brows furrowed suspiciously again as he began to understand.  He had at first assumed he was to accept his scheduled loss and be doubly humiliated by having three opponents assist with it, until two of the men retreated from the ring.  They took too opposite sides of the ring and Genji realized their intent was to make sure he did not run. Genji crossed his arms as the man that had been left in the ring approached him.

“Seems a bit much, don't you think?  Having some little guards on the side.  Why not just have all three of you come at me?  I'm going to lose anyway, might as well make it a show.” He commented.  The man was several inches shorter than Genji, but his gnarled face and small but piercing eyes made him formidable enough that he did not appreciate the joke.

“We're not playing at that stunt you pulled. Consider those two fellas as incentive to not try anything stupid.” He warned.  Genij's eye flicked to the other two men.  Their arms were crossed but barely concealed the slim daggers hidden in their sleeves.  With a sigh, his eye shifted back to the man.  

“Let's get this over with.”  He muttered.  The man gave him a derisive smile.  

“Don't make it too quick, gotta give these folks a show don't ya?”  The mocking lilt of his tone twisted Genji's stomach.  

The next minutes were something of a blur for Genji. The bell clanged and Genji had taken to dodging his opponent's punches, dancing lethargically around the ring.  It was a pitiful sight and earned him boos and threats from the patrons, even a few bottles that shattered against the floor when they missed his head. Genji had no will to fight or to even fake it, the thrill of uncertainty gone when his fate had become preordained.  He made a deliberate mistep and the man facing him closed in, his bony knuckles crashing across his cheek.  Genji's head snapped to one side, ears ringing with pain when another punch caught him full in the mouth and he tasted blood as he fell back.  His back scraped the ropes but before he could stand, the man grabbed a fistful of hair through his hood and dragged him back up.  He felt the acrid breath of his opponent against his ear.

“I said make it look good, asshole.  You're dancing around like some woman with a mouse at her feet.” He spat then dropped him.  Genji looked up at the man, defeat in his eye, and pulled himself up from the ropes.  He raised his fists and went for the other man, throwing two uncoordinated punches that were easily dodged.  The man came in close after the second swipe and pounded a flurry of rapid punches into Genji's side before sending him reeling with another punch across the jaw.  Genji spun away with the momentum and crashed to the floor, scraping his arms as he barely caught himself.  The crowd was now shouting insults at his expense as he slowly raised his head and pulled the sash from his mouth to spit a globule of blood and spit from his mouth.  Instead of the pungent copper smell, something familiar touched his nose.  

Chamomile.  Genji looked up, his eye widening when he was face to face with the hooded woman he had spied at his fist bout.  A look of equally horrified surprise was on her face despite the flushed heat of her cheeks.  

“My lady.”  He breathed.  Her bottom lip trembled as she opened her mouth to speak but clapped her hands over mouth suddenly.  Hands were on Genji's leg and he was dragged back to the reality of the fight.  A vigor coursed through him as he stared up at his opponent.  The man's eyes were blazing with fury.  

“If you're not gonna play, I'm gonna just beat the shit out of you.”  He thundered as his fist rocketed towards Genji's face.  A strange urgency took over Genji and he was suddenly hyper focused, catching the man's wrist and elbow.  Acting by instinct, he twist the man's arm, then rolled on his side taking his foe with him and yanking him off balance.  A grunt followed by an angry roar burst from the man, but Genji had him pinned to the floor, his knee pressed into his opponent's lower back as he pulled the arm he had snared behind him.  His eye shot back to the crowd and found Irohahime still staring at him wide-eyed.  Their shared gaze was filled with a bizarre questioning until the man struggled and Genji twisted his arm to silence him.  The excitement was immediate in her eyes.

“Stop moving.” He ordered as he watched her.  

“Fuck you.” The man growled and he continued to struggle.  Genji twisted his arm until there was a loud pop and the man screamed.  The crowed roared with delight, but his gaze was fixed solely on Irohahime and her reaction.  Her teeth had dug into her bottom lip with delight as she clasped her hands against her reddened cheeks, her eyes shining as Genji stood up.  The man beneath him writhed in pain as he cradled his dislocated shoulder and Genji studied her expression.  An understanding passed between them and Genji was filled with a giddiness that had his heart pounding madly. The man struggled to his feet and fixed Genji with a murderous glare.

“You're dead.” He hissed as he leaned heavily to one side.  

“Not yet friend.” Genji replied absently, his eye still on Irohahime.  A dreamy look had filled her eyes until they widened with fear.  Following her gaze, Genji saw the two men he had been threatened with slip under the rope.

“Tell me gentlemen, how angry will your masters be when I ruin their purses again?” He teased as he cracked his knuckles, his passion and bloodlust returning as he shifted into defensive stance.  The two men did not respond and rushed him.  There were mixed cries from the crowd about the fight being fixed, but soon the voices of dissent were drowned out by excited whoops.  The shortest of the three men was at him first and threw a wild punch, but Genji caught it easily and spun on his heel taking the man off his feet and slamming him onto his back.  The short thug let out a rasping yelp, spit flying from his mouth as his eyes bulged, the air knocked from his lungs.  Genji remained crouched, but winced at the pain in his side.  There was no time to favor his wound, the other man on him already with his heel aimed for Genji's head.  Genji threw up a tensed arm and managed to parry the blow, the effort of ignoring his side making him grunt.  The man pulled his leg away, but there was curious look in his eyes and he grinned venomously when he realized Genji's handicap.  Genji cursed to himself and scrambled for some kind of strategy to protect himself and to put the man down for good before he could spill this new information to his friends.  

Fuck it.  He sprang from the crouch he had been in and tackled the man before he could dance away, using his full weight to slam his shoulder into the thug's stomach.  The man gasped as his guts shifted, his eyes bulging, and he tumbled backwards.  His head bounced against the floor as his eyes rolled back, spit bubbling from his lips.  Genji eyed him suspiciously to make sure he was down for good before a woman's voice cried out to him.

“Knife!  Your left!”  Irohahime screamed. Instinctively, Genji pivoted and he grit his teeth in pain as his side tore.  It was the shortest thug, having regained his breath he had drawn his hidden dagger.  The blade slashed mere inches from Genji's face and he reacted quickly, looping his arms around the man's arm before he could withdraw his weapon and strike again. Genji twisted his body again, taking the man off his feet once more and slamming him to the floor.  He straddled the man, pinning one arm under his knee as he grabbed the arm still holding the dagger.

“That's cheating friend.”  He hissed and twisted the man's wrist until he screamed and dropped the blade.  “I think you need some manners beat into you.”  Genji looked up at the crowd and found Irohahime.  Her lips were parted as she seemed to be breathless with desire, her eyes half-lidded as she watched him.  His pleased grin concealed, Genji looked down at the man he had pinned.  

“I'll show you a trick a friend taught me.  Won't be one you'll soon forget.” He sneered and lifted the man's limp wrist.  Unable to struggle, the man watched as Genji pressed their palms together, fingers lined against each other.  A coldness replaced the excitement in him and he looked at the man, studying the mounting fear in his opponent's eyes.  Pushing his index finger forward, there was snap and the man screamed as his finger was bent backwards.  Disgusted, but followed by delighted cries rose from the crowd and Genji studied the man's face again.  The middle finger was next, though stubborn due to the thickness of the man's fingers, but it gave with another snap and elicited another wild shriek of agony. The crowd let out another disgusted cry, but Genji remained focused on the man's face.  He did not relish in his victim's pain, rather intent on understanding the misery it brought him.  

“I think you've learned your lesson, but just to be sure.” He pushed and snapped back the man's ring finger.  The shock was too much and the man's eyes rolled back as he blacked out. Satisfied at the reaction, Genji dropped the man's ruined hand and looked at the crowd.  There was a collective disbelief on their faces as they were torn between horror and amazement at his subtle brutality.  Genji stood up, intent on finishing what he had started, and searched for his original opponent but the man had disappeared. Looking around curiously, Genji gave the patrons a shrug.  

“Is that it?” He asked loudly until a man let out a fevered shout.

“The One-eyed Fox wins again!  You're a disgusting fighter!  A devil!” He exclaimed gleefully and soon a chorus of cheers rose from the crowd.  Genji relished in the praise, but his gaze sought Irohahime for her reaction.  He found her quickly escaping through the crowd, her hood pulled low over her face. Panicking, he slipped out of the ring and pushed off the onlookers that tried to hold him back and lavish praise or angered protest upon him.  She slipped through the doors Genji had entered from and he remained hot on her heels but grimaced when he remembered his side. Pressing a hand over the wound, he felt the sticky heat of dried blood but it was not enough to worry him yet.  The wound had not opened fully, but it would not take much to render him an invalid. Irohahime was fast, the hem of her cloak making a sound as she slipped around a corner like a ghost.  He followed and caught her just as she slipped through the back door and tried to close it on him, slapping a hand against the frame and shoving it open with a loud bang that sent her stumbling back.  Her eyes were wild with surprise as she backed away, Genji quickly backing her against the wall of the alley.  His hands slapped against the wall on either side of her, caging her, her face inches from his.  A tense silence fell between them, broken only by their winded breaths.  

“Such secret hobbies you have, my lady.  Do tell, what others will I discover while in your house?” He said, a devilish smile baring teeth still pink with blood.  Her eyes, at first wide with terror, quickly darkened with the familiar heat of her anger.  

“None that are any of your business, Master Genji.  I demand you release me.” She ordered.  

“Not until you tell me why you are in the worst part of Yonezawa, watching men bloody each other in a seedy gambling hall.” He insisted.  Irohahime's jaw tightened, but her resolve to avoid answering his questions remained.

“What I do in my spare time is my business.  Not yours.”  

“I respectfully disagree, my lady.  As your bodyguard, if your father found out where you spent your evenings it would surely fall on me and mine to be punished along with everyone else in your house.” He explained and leaned closer so their gaze was level.  “You've been coming here since before my tenure, haven't you?  Is that where all the rumors of you having a secret lover have come from?  In my eyes, it doesn't seem an average man could satisfy the predilections you possess.”  Her mouth dropped open with revulsion and she shoved him away roughly.

“I'll hear nothing more from your viper's tongue!” She cried, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger.  “They were right to call you disgusting!  To speak to me, a high-born lady, the way you do!”  Genji kept his devious grin as he held up his hands in surrender.

“Such protest.” He teased but he gave her the distance he felt she needed.  “I am not one to judge, my lady.” Genji kept her in his sight as he approached the back door of the gambling hall and reached under the steps.  His fingers brushed against the rough fibers of his haori and he felt some relief at the trust he had placed in Kendo.  Grabbing the bundle, he approached her again and slid on his robe.  

“I think there has been enough excitement for tonight.  I will escort you home, my lady.” He said and bowed. Irohahime looked away from him, her eyes still hot with anger but the redness of her cheeks betrayed how embarrassed she still was.  

“I do not need your presence.  I will escort myself.” She hissed and turned to leave the alley but stopped suddenly when several men appeared from another doorway.  They quickly filled the alley, blocking the exit and she backed away, pausing at Genji's side.  With the other end blocked off by a stone wall, Genji's mirth was replaced by wariness as he studied their numbers.  He put out an arm and pushed Irohahime behind him as his other hand slid inside his robes.  

“Good evening friends, is something the matter?” He asked jovially.  The collective disdain on the posse's face were warning enough of their intent, until the man whose arm Genji had dislocated shoved his way to the front.  His arm had been fixed, but held in a sling, his eyes sharp with hate.  

“You're a dead man.” The thug spat.  

“Oh come on, you're not still  mad about your arm, are you?  Give it a month, you'll be back to throwing fights before you know it.” Genji laughed and Irohahime stared up at him in disbelief.  

“You cost us a lot of money tonight and we're going to be taking it out of your ass.” The man hissed.  

“Sorry friends, I've no money to spare tonight.” Genji said sadly then smiled, “If I did, I'd have bet on myself.”

“I'm gonna cut that smarmy tongue out of your cheating head.” The man was visibly shaking with anger, but Genji frowned.

“Well now, that's not fair.  If anyone's a cheat, it's you and your little gang.” He commented, then gave the man a derisive smile that bared teeth.  “And how sad is that?  Three against one and you still couldn't best me?  Too bad the size of that bruised ego of yours won't fix the shortcomings between your legs.” Irohahime slapped his arm, but the damage was done when the man understood the insult.  

“Kill him!  Cut his fucking head off and kill the woman too!” He thundered.  The men rushed forward, swords drawn and Genji threw his haori aside, his hand slipping from his robes as the chain of his manriki-gusari glinted in the moonlight. Pulling the chain taut to keep it short enough to avoid hitting Irohahime, Genji whirled the spiked weight until it spun too fast to see and he darted forward.  Twisting his arm, he brought the weight down across the first man's head and sent him to the ground, then spun on his heel to redirect the chain.  Using his elbow to give the spike added momentum, it snared the other man's arm like a winding snake and Genji yanked, snapping the man's elbow.  A scream of pain met his ears as he jumped back, the chain following as he started to spin it again in a wide arch.  

“Well?  Come get me!” He spat, but the men drew back as their eyes focused on the glint of the spinning spike as if it were a snake.

“Rush him, you idiots!  He can't hit all of you!” The man screamed.  There was a moment of hesitation until the posse drove forward again.  Genji spun on his heel and sent the chain sailing again.  It lodged it one man's shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain, but he could not draw it back fast enough to stop the others as they closed in.  Genji drew the chain back to ready it again, but his eyebrows rose in surprise when Irohahime darted past him.  He opened his mouth to protest her actions, but he was silenced when a clash of steel rang through the alley.  Sword drawn, she met the first man and blocked his strike, countering the blow and leaving the man's middle exposed.  Spinning on her heel, she swiped the blade across his belly and blood burst from the wound.  The man fell in a heap at her feet, but she seemed to not register what she had done, already parrying the sword of the next man.  Genji was momentarily awestruck, then snapped back to reality as he whirled the chain again and sent it for the next man.  The man tore at the chain as it wrapped around his neck, gagging him, but Genji drew it back over his elbow with his full weight, crushing the man's windpipe with a muffled crunch. Realizing it was too burdensome to remove the chain in such a short space of time, Genji drew his wakizashi and rushed to Irohahime's side.  He grabbed her collar and pulled her to his side, saving her from a dagger at her back, and thrust his blade though the man's throat.  Blood burst from the man's lips as his eyes darted in different directions and he fell to the ground as Genji withdrew his blade.  Irohahime pressed against his back as she shifted her stance to defend, parrying a strike from a much larger man.  Genji felt her weight heavily against his back and grabbed her elbow.  She understood and she shoved at the man with all her weight to give just enough of a pause for the two of them to spin and trade places. Genji met the weight of the man behind his sword with his own, but used his greater strength to hold his own long enough to drive a kick into the soft part of the man's leg.  The blow had the man stagger back and Genji surged forward, slicing his blade across the man's throat.  Blood spurted from the wound, but he pulled back to glance at Irohahime.  She was holding her own against her new foe, but he was slowly wearing her down, sweat beading down her temples and neck. Genji raised his sword to intervene but was again surprised when she let out a wild roar and drove her forehead into the man's nose.  A yelp of pain and shock burst the from the man as he cupped a hand over his nose and she raised her leg, driving a sharp kick into his stomach.  The man collapsed, gasping for breath as she towered over him, her breath coming in ragged, frenzied breaths.  Her hood had fallen back, her hair wild with the mania of battle and her sharp eyes found the thug that had set the posse on the two of them.  He was dumbstruck and while he was still visibly shaking, it was out of fear instead of anger.  Irohahime thrust the point of her bloodied sword at him.

“Bring more of your dogs.  I'll paint the streets with their blood.” She ordered, teeth bared viciously.  The man cried out and stumbled away from the gore filling the alley. Irohahime watched him retreat as the madness that had apparently taken over subsided.  

“Coward.” She muttered as she wiped the blood from her sword on her cloak before sheathing it then looked at Genji and blushed.  “Wh-Why are you staring at me in such a way?”  Genji had been unable to tear his eye away from her once she had bested the final man, a look of dazed amazement on his face.  

“Because I am impressed.”  He said finally and bowed deeply.  “Please forgive me, my lady.  I had judged your skills after our little skirmish in your private house.  Seeing you in action has certainly shifted my opinion of you.”  She looked away quickly, hiding the blush of her cheeks.  

“It is of no interest to me your opinions.” She grumbled and Genji lifted his head. 

“Of course not, my lady.” His voice was low and she looked at him.  Something sparked in their shared gaze, but it was forgotten when he winced and opened his robe.  “Oh.  Well that's a bit of a mess.”  Irohahime looked at his side and gasped, hurrying to his side.  The wound had split back open and was now oozing blood heavily.  

“You fool.  You absolute fool.” She breathed, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve to staunch the blood.  Genji sighed.  

“That I am.”

“This will need proper care.” She ordered and pulled him forward.  As they made their way out of the alley, Genji scooped up his chain and dragged it free from the man's neck. Pulling off his scarf, he looped it around his waist to hold her handkerchief in place before he wound the chain back up and hid it inside his robes.  He winced and she took his arm, pulling it over her shoulders.  

“Lean on me.” She said and Genji was happy to obey. Pressed against her, the scent of chamomile filled his senses and he could not help but float on the pleasure it brought him.

It was still dark when they had returned to the castle and, fearing she might wake her sisters, Irohahime had insisted she tend to his wounds in the private building she used for her sword training.  Genji sat on a tatami mat, his robe pulled free from one shoulder as she cleaned his wound.  Despite Hiromi's skills as a healer, the still weak skin had not been up to task, the night's activities far too taxing.  Not that Genji could blame his apprentice as it had been his own foolishness that had him getting stitched up again.

“Does it hurt terribly?” Irohahime asked, breaking the silence that had held between them for nearly hours.  

“Yes and no.  My retainer is quite a good healer, I'm just not a good patient.”  He joked.  There was the ghost of a smile at her lips before she grew serious again. 

“You could have been killed...”  Her tone was curt and he scoffed.

“I could say the same for you, my lady.”  He gave her a haughty look.  “The most favored daughter of Oshu's One-Eyed Dragon Lord Masamune, the Lady Date Irohahime, standing among the degenerates of Yonezawa.  If anyone knew who you were, you would have no doubt been ransomed.”  She avoided his gaze as she continued stitching his wound until he leaned closer to touch the skin between the collar of her loosened kimono.  His finger dragged up her skin and he felt her stiffen as he urged her chin upwards, forcing her to meet his eye.

“Though if they did not recognize you, I can think of many unpleasant things those kinds of men would do to a woman that looks the way you do.”  He said, his voice low and coupled with a callous smile.  Her eyes did not waver with the fear he had expected and she slapped his hand away.

“You said so yourself before, I am no shrinking violet.”  She hissed.  “If any man dares to put his hands on me, he will lose them.”  Genji could not help the shiver her words sent through him as he recalled her bloodlust in the alley.  He struggled to keep his expression nonplussed, his eye nearly betraying his giddiness.

“My apologies, my lady.”  He said, but she ignored him to instead refocus on his wound.  A silence fell between them as she finished her work and set to cleaning away the dried blood with the basin and cloth.  Genji could feel some tension still remained between them, but a question he had wished to have answered slipped off his tongue as she finished.  

“Why did you go there?  I want to understand.”  He said and she paused, cool drops of reddened water running down his side freely as she considered how to answer him.  Irohahime swallowed then let out a sigh.

“I wish to say that it is still none of your business, but considering that enough has happened between us I feel there's no point in lying.”  She started then looked at him.  Genji could see the nervousness in her eyes as she chewed at her lip.  

“I...  I don't know how to explain it,” she continued and looked away, suddenly busy with his side, “I just... It excites me.  Seeing men fight each other.”  Genji cocked an eyebrow but kept his expression neutral.

“Elaborate?”  He urged and she swallowed again.

“I've fought so hard to prove myself among my brothers, my father's retainers, his soldiers.  I've spent hours learning military strategy, economics, current politics, outside trade business, anything that a proper leader should be well-versed in.  I've devoted myself to the sword so that I will not be seen as helpless.  I've attempted to sit in on war councils to offer my own advice, but because I am a woman my opinions are automatically considered irrelevant.”  A strange smile twisted her lips.  “So when I see the sex I have striven so hard to be equals with beaten into submission, I cannot help the thrill it gives me.  It is... a comfort.”  His gaze softened as she finished cleaning his wound and placed the cloth in the basin, her hands folding into her lap.  He chose his next words carefully.

“Do you resent your father?”  Genji asked and she looked at him with surprise before looking away in thought.  

“There is a part of me that does, I suppose.  He dotes on my intelligence, my grace and willingness to run Yonezawa beside his retainers and yet,” her hands clenched against the folds her kimono, “he laments I was born a woman.  It has me feel as though I am a waste to him.”  There was a tremble in her hands and his gaze hardened again as he looked at her.  

“Why are you so desperate to prove him wrong?  What harm is there in your brilliance being used in Yonezawa?”  His comment was direct and her eyes were on him with that too familiar fire.  “There is nothing wrong with a woman with a military mind left behind in times of war.  Someone must stay behind and help preserve your clan.  Who better than the most prized daughter?”  

“I wish to fight alongside my people.  The men of Oshu shed their blood daily while I stay behind enjoying the comforts of a princess.  It is an insult.”  She shot back her eyes smoldering.  Genji met her fire with his cold, his eye narrowing.  

“You are a fool then.  You know nothing of the horrors a battlefield conjures.”  He leaned over her menacingly. “You do not understand the unpredictability of it.  Standing among the bodies of your enemies and comrades, the sound of gunfire and screams deafening, the stench of blood and death surrounding you. Seeing a friend you once held dear cut down in an instant because of one wrong move, the last look you share one of fear then replaced by the eyes of a corpse as that life you cherished is snuffed out forever.”  Irohahime cowered away as he moved closer, his expression turning to anger.  

“You cannot say this to me.  I understand what—” She started but he cut her off.

“You think that just because of a little alley fight you understand what a battle is truly like?  You understand nothing.” His tone was venomous.  “Accept where you are like the good princess you're supposed to be.”  The slap happened so suddenly, Genji's world spun for mere seconds before he looked at her.  She was gritting her teeth and fighting back angry tears, her hand shaking as her palm began to redden.  He tasted blood and flicked his tongue over his lip to discover she had reopened the cut.  The anger he had kept tied down for so long burst free suddenly and he gladly let it take over.  He slapped her so hard, the sound echoed through the private house and knocked her to floor.  Irohahime sat up slowly after a moment and sniffled, but he was still too angry with her to feel any kind of guilt.  Satisfied finally, he started to stand when she spun around and the raw fury in her expression stunned him.  Like a shot from a gun, her fist drove into his groin and his teeth clacked together as his eye widened with the sudden burst of pain. Genji dropped to his knees as he held his blighted genitals, a moan of pain rising from him.

“Fuck...  Dirty fighter...”  He groaned and muttered several more insults.  Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she shoved him roughly onto his back, his head knocking against the floor.  Genji let out a noise of pain as she moved on top of him, her fingers pushing against his fresh stitches as she loomed over him.  

“Apologize this instant, you filthy savage.”  She spat.  Genji locked eyes with her as his vision blurred slightly with pain.  He managed to fix her with a snide grin.

“Make me.”  He taunted.  Irohahime dug her fingers in again and he could not fight back a cry of pain as black spots danced in his vision.  The vertigo that came before blacking out hit him until a new pain tugged him back to reality.  He felt her teeth tugging at his bottom lip, her tongue flicking over the cut before she pulled away roughly.  A shaking breath rose out of her followed by a moan as she licked away the blood that stained her lip.  His eye widened with equal parts horror and violent arousal as she licked her lips again, her teeth pink from his blood.  Adrenaline and lust sang in his blood and he shot up to grasp a handful of her hair.  This time she cried out in pain but he stifled it with a hard kiss.  Her fingers slid through his hair to pull him closer until her teeth clacked against his, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth.  A long moan rose out of him as he tasted her, until he pulled away abruptly with a hiss of pain and pressed a hand to his side.  She loosened her grip just enough to push him back against the floor.  

“This way you don't have to move.”  Her voice was thick with desire and she yanked the rest of his robes open, leaving his skin bare for her eyes.  She did not touch him at first, her eyes searching out every scar, cut, and bruise he bore as he caught his ragged breath.  

“Does it please you?  Seeing the mess I am?”  He teased, his voice low.  She could not help a grin as she traced a finger over the long scar across his chest.

“There is a certain...  satisfaction seeing you tarnished in this way.”  She replied then lowered her mouth to run her tongue across the small cuts he had gained from the fight with Kyoji.  His head fell back with a groan when her teeth tugged at the skin over his ribs, her fingers sliding over the muscles of his stomach.  He resisted the mad urge to throw her underneath him, to slake the agonizing lust that had plagued him for far too long. Irohahime's mouth left his scars to touch his collarbone then slide up his throat, the tip flicking over the cut of his lip again before she met his gaze.  His hands rose up to cradle her face as he kept her close.  

“You are a vexing, tempestuous shrew and you've done something to me.”  He breathed as his face flushed with heat. “Something I still do not fully understand, but in this moment I have never wanted anything as badly as I want you.”  The need in her gaze wavered with a new emotion until she kissed him again, her hand resting against his chest before sliding down his stomach.  Her fingertips slipped beneath the hem of his sash before pausing and she pulled away to look at him.  

“You are crass, filthy, and possess the tongue of a viper.  I find it and you infuriatingly attractive.”  She said and pushed her hand inside the folds of his hakama.  Genji let out a sharp breath as she touched him and he could not help his eye rolling back as her deft fingers stroked his hardening cock.  His hand moved through her hair as she ran her teeth along his jawline. The line between pleasure and pain blurred and he sank into the sensation as she drove him closer to a peak more satisfying than any opium den he had wiled his life away in.  As he neared that crest, the smallest grain of sanity sent him crashing back to reality.  

She's the daughter of Date Masamune.  He will have your head.  With a vicious curse under his breath, he grabbed her wrist.  She looked at him curiously.

“I cannot.  We cannot.”  He said coldly. Irohahime's face was a mix of sadness and bewilderment but he pulled her hand away as he sat up slowly.  Gently, he lifted her off his hips and gave her a sobering look.

“It is one thing to play at this tension, it is another to make a terrible mistake that will affect both of our lives drastically.”  It was a warning that had her face reddening when she realized the state they had been.  She sat politely and nodded.  

“Y-Yes.  I apologize.”  She said and looked at him. “As you said before, such behavior is not appropriate between master and servant.”  

“Indeed.”  He said and held her gaze.  The wall that normally went up between them did not form, instead a strange loaded silence held.  Suddenly, she threw herself into his arms and he in that instant welcomed her.  Her mouth found his and his lips parted to welcome her tongue once again.  He nearly sank into the warmth of pleasure until he snapped back to his senses and pushed her away, his fingers digging in her shoulders as he forced her to look at him.  

“Stop.  You have to stop.”  It was not an order, but a plea.  “Look at what you are doing.”  The realization of their coupling finally sobered her and she covered her face in shame.

“I'm sorry, I am so very sorry...”  She let out a small sob then stood up.  “Please excuse my behavior.”  Irohahime turned and dashed from the private house, the door barely closing as she dashed into the inner gardens.  He watched her retreating form before letting out a frustrated shout as he rose to his feet. Turning to a pillar, Genji drove punch after punch into the hard wood until his fists were bloody.  

Too much.  It's too much.

Dawn had not even broken when he had made his way into the kitchens and stolen three ceramic jugs of sake and umeshi.  He had no desire to be near anyone, not even Hiromi, and he instead hid in the stables again.  Left to his misery, Genji spent the next hours finishing the first ceramic jug before he was too far gone with drunkenness.  When he tried to stand up, one of the horses knickered at him and he jabbed a vehement finger at the animal.  He let loose a mess of slurred curses, the horse responding with ears pinned back and a snort, until Genji lost his train of thought and fell backwards.  Too drunk to stand, he passed out with a small groan of dismay.  The sound of hooves scraping against gravel woke him mere hours later and the throb of a hangover had the veins behind his lost eye pulsing.  Genji groaned in anguish and rolled onto his stomach, the ache in his side flaring to life, doubling his pain.  In agony, he thrust a hand out and sought out one of the jugs.  Dragging the drink to his dry lips, he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the bitter alcohol until he slumped to his side in a haze.  Cheek mashed against the floorboards of the stable, Genji stared aimlessly ahead as his stomach roiled with nausea.  He could feel time dragging by and realized blearily that Hiromi would be wondering where he was, so he struggled to his feet and began a shambling journey back to the servants quarters.  Keeping one of the jugs hidden in his sleeve, he continued to nurse the other one sloppily, sake spilling down his chin and onto his soiled robes.  Through the haze, he saw the small figure of Hiromi leaving the kitchen until the youth stopped, eyes widening with horror and mouth agape.  

“H-Hiromi, good, ugh, good morning!” He nearly sang and threw his arms open.  “Shleep.  I had to sh-guh, shleep in the stables.”  Genji let out a giddy laugh and pressed a finger to his lips clumsily as he leaned forward.  

“Genji, what are—”

“Shhhhhh.  Shh.  It'ssss fine.” The older man mumbled as he swayed back and forth unsteadily.  Hiromi looked around quickly and grabbed Genji by the arm.  

“Let's go.  Now.”  The youth ordered and dragged him to their room.  

“Whatsa holdup?  We gotta go work, don'we?” Genji protested and took another swig from the jug.  Hiromi lips were a tight line as the youth slammed the door open and shoved the older man inside.  Looking around again to check if anyone had seen Genji's drunken display, Hiromi shut the door and bolted the latch before turning on the older man.  Genji had stumbled over his feet and was face down against the floor, his lips parted as he moaned in exhaustion.  

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Hiromi yelled and resisted driving a kick into Genji's side.  “What are you thinking?!  Do you want us to get thrown out of here?!” Genji did not immediately answer and instead tried to sit up.  

“It'sh fine.  It'sh fine, it'sh noth—” He started then shook suddenly before he thrust his hands forward and vomited. Hiromi's teeth grit together in dismay as Genji fell back, filth trailing down the front of his robes.  The youth's mouth opened to let out a furious lecture until noticing the tears running down the older man's face.  

“No good...  No good at all...” Genji sobbed gently and gave his apprentice a pitiful smile.  “I can't...  I can't do it anymore.”  Staring at him for the longest time, Hiromi sighed with resignation.  

“Don't move.  I'll be right back.”  The youth sighed.  The door opened and closed, but the noise barely registered to Genji as he stared up at the ceiling, unable to fight the tears.  

“Stop it.  You stupid child.”  He scolded himself as he angrily swiped at his face.  

Hiromi returned after some time and spent the next hour helping Genji undress and sit at the backdoor of the room.  Using the basin of warm water and several clean cloths, Hiromi set to the task of wiping the stink of the night before from the older man's skin.  

“Genji, what is happening?  I've never...  I've never seen you act like this.”  The youth said after a long silence. “It's like you're possessed.  You've been acting strange for days and I'm starting to get scared...”  Genji did not immediately answer, the haze of extreme drunkenness slowly lifting, but not enough to inhibit his thoughts.  When he did finally speak he could not keep the bitter sarcasm from his tone.

“Possessed?  You'd be right then, dear apprentice.  I am possessed.” He scoffed.  Hiromi paused, the rag at the base of Genji's neck, and gave the older man a puzzled look.

“What do you mean?  Tell me.”  The youth urged.

“That woman.  She's done something to me.” He muttered.  Hiromi's brows furrowed.

“Who?  What woman?”

“Date Irohahime.  She's made me feel things I don't know how to deal with.”  Genji sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair angrily.  “She's in my thoughts daily and the things we did...  I can't explain what it is.  It's lunacy.”  Hiromi was silent and suddenly tense.  

“What...  what did you do?”  The tone was filled with worry, but something else that made Genji turn to look at his apprentice.

“Nothing that concerns children like you, but she has put her hands on me in a way that an unwed woman should not.”  He said and let out a rude chuckle when Hiromi's cheeks flared red.  “I did not bed her.”  

“I wasn't thinking that!” Hiromi snapped.  Genji's eye narrowed at his apprentice.

“Does it make you jealous?” He gave the youth a cold smile.  “I know you're at that age, isn't it normal for—” Hiromi slapped him.

“You can use that smart mouth to insult others but you won't use it on me.  Not like that.”  Hiromi said coldly, jabbing a finger in the older man's face.  Genji realized his mistake and turned away.

“I'm sorry...  You don't deserve my venom...” He sighed and held his head in his hands.  Hiromi sighed deeply and went back to wiping the dirt and blood from his back.  

“This isn't funny anymore Genji.  You need to deal with this and fast.  If something happens between you and Lord Date's daughter, he'll see us shot or worse.”  Hiromi warned then upended the bucket over the older man's head.  An angry yell burst from Genji and he whirled on the youth, but Hiromi was not intimidated and stared up at the older man defiantly, arms crossed.  

“Deal with it.  Be the master manipulator you've always bragged about being when you're drunk.”  The youth said hotly then, spinning on a heel, left the room.  Genji stood dumbly for several moments as lukewarm water dripped down his body.  He pressed his fingers to the wound on his side and let out a long sigh then chuckled.

“A fine mother you'll make indeed one day.”  

Despite Hiromi's lecture, Genji was unable to gain any kind of solid handle on the depression that was slowly sucking him down.  He was able to function thanks to the alcohol he had hidden away, though Hiromi was despondent at the realization Genji would remain in an almost listless mood dulled by his nightly drinking.  It irked the youth, babysitting not only a group of women but a grown man.  Days passed and the flimsy solution Genji had put together finally failed, his temper unchecked one fateful afternoon.  While recovering the women from their lunch, Genji refused to bow to the women as they passed and instead fixed each one with a look of disdain.  The slight had not gone unnoticed and the women had voiced their offense, leading to the newly returned Lord Katakura Kojuro to pull the two aside to address the lapse in respect.  

Hiromi's fists were clenched, head bowed low before the second-in-command to the Date clan.  Lord Katakura was seated on the dais of the main hall, Genji and Hiromi prostrated before him, a look of solemnity on his sharp, distinguished face.  

“Please forgive our ignorance, my lord.  My master did not realize his offense.”  Hiromi pleaded.  Genji had begrudgingly bowed before Lord Katakura, but the two men had fixed each other with a stare that screamed challenge.  Lord Katakura's arms remained crossed as he looked over the two in deep thought.  

“Master Genji-roh, I've heard some rumors that have me concerned for the safety of my lord's children.” He finally spoke.  Genji knew not to trust the calculating smile the older man fixed him with and he again met Lord Katakura's sharp eyes with his own wary gaze.  

“And what rumors would those be, my lord?”  Genji asked, unable to keep the challenge from his tone.  Hiromi's teeth grit in frustration and one of Lord Katakura's eyebrows twitched in interest.  

“I've heard rumors that you have been leaving the castle grounds once night has fallen.  An explanation would be wise.” The lord warned.  Genji remained cool and tactful in his response.  

“I was told it was my duty to ensure the safety of my charges.  I believe that duty extends to threats that could reside outside the Date household.”  He explained and bowed his head. “With all due respect my lord, I think I am within my rights to do what I have been tasked with.  Even if it means bending some rules.” Hiromi resisted the urge to smack the older man and waited with baited breath for Lord Katakura to respond.  The youth was shocked when the silence was broken by a knowing chuckle from the lord.  

“Very well.  I will withhold my judgments.”  He said, his eyes falling on Hiromi.  “After all, your retainer did take time to highlight your... unorthodox methods.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Genji replied and the lord's eyes shifted to him.  

“However, despite the sleep you may be losing in your duty to the Date clan, I must insist it not interfere with the respect Lord Masamune's family is due.”  The smile held no kindness, but warning.  It was a threat that Genji understood very well.

“Of course, my lord.”  Genji bowed low and Lord Katakura stood to take his leave.  

“If you'll excuse me, Lord Masamune is due to arrive this afternoon.”  He gave a short bow, dismissing the two, before leaving the room.  Hiromi had been tense, but now it doubled.  

“Lord Date is going to be here?!”  The youth looked up at Genji woefully, then glared.  “You need to get yourself sorted out fast.  If he sees anything off about either of us, we're dead.”  Hiromi jabbed a finger into the older man's side.  Genji's breath hissed through his teeth as he winced and slapped the youth's hand away.  

“Hush, I don't need you to fuss over me over this.  I will... talk to her once the fuss of Lord Date is done with.”  He said and eyed his apprentice with a narrowed eye.  “Now stop hounding me.  Miserable imp.”  Hiromi scoffed and stood up, leaving the room.  Genji stared at the floor as his fists tightened against the knees of his tattsuke-hakama.

What the hell am I supposed to even say...?

The castle was a flurry of activity within hours, Hiromi and Genji having been stationed in the front gardens to wait near the women once their father arrived.  Soon, an ensemble of mounted soldiers, foot soldiers, guards and procession of military carts moved through the castle grounds.  Genji recognized the red armor of Date Shigezane and his cheery smile as he waved to the daughters until his eye shifted to the man seated on a large brown charger alongside Shigezane.  The kabuto helmet with its sharp crescent moon did not hide the sharp, solemn face.  Instantly recognizable with his dangerous, war-weary single-eyed gaze, Date Masamune stared down his retainers until falling upon his daughters. There was recognition, then a softness that could easily be missed, and Genji did not need to be told which daughter was able to draw such kindness out of the fearsome One-eyed Dragon of Oshu.  Genji dared a look at Irohahime and saw her bow before her father until he felt that eye on him and he met the lord's face.  Lord Masamune's lips were a thin line, his face though still youthful being one of the youngest lords in the war for Japan, was etched with the scars of battle and the stresses of wartime.  The hair Genji could see was black as pitch with a hint of silver at his ears.  He met the lord's cold eye with his own before bowing deeply.  

“You.  Foreigner.” Lord Masamune's voice was deep, like rolling thunder, and Genji raised his head.  

“Yes, my lord?” He replied and did not bother to correct him.  

“Now cousin, I told you before; Master Genji-roh is not a foreigner.”  Lord Shigezane cut in jovially and leaned forward.  “He and his retainer, Master Hiromi, are mercenaries from Kagashima.”

Lord Masamune's eye narrowed.

“Hired dogs then.  You felt it wise to leave them with my children?”  Lord Masamune growled, but Lord Shigezane sighed.

“Hardly hired dogs.  Master Hiromi informed me that they once served as bodyguards to Lord Hideyoshi's sister.  The boy even had a letter signed by the man himself.”  Lord Shigezane explained.  Genji swallowed and was immediately tense.  Hiromi had a number of skills when it came to trickery, but forging a letter from an established lord was a risk he could not get behind.  Lord Masamune continued to observe the two until he cleared his throat roughly.

“Very well.  Perhaps I'll observe how well you serve my children to ascertain for myself your worth.”  He said and turned his horse away.  

“As you wish, my lord.”  Genji bowed his head again.  Asshole.  

Two days passed and the activity caused by the return of Lord Masamune began to settle back into its general daily routine. It had been some time since Genji had interacted with Irohahime, having taken great pains to avoid her when she was alone and to keep his distance in her presence.  She did not meet his eye when he did on occasion pause to look at her longer than necessary.  He started to wonder if maybe they had both overcome the madness that had possessed them and, feeling he was in a proper frame of mind, he chose to approach her and put out whatever had started between them. It was a late morning, but she was not among her sisters when he arrived at the inner garden and he sought out Hiromi.  

“Where is Lady Irohahime?” He asked, his tone empty.  Hiromi eyed him for a moment then spoke.

“She said she was going to spend some time in the library.  I thought it fine since Lord Date is here and security has all but doubled.  Why?”  The youth explained then fixed the older man with a pointed look.

“I was going to have words with her.” Genji narrowed his eye at the petulant youth.  “Like you asked I should.” Hiromi's lips twitched at Genji's mocking tone, watchful gaze returning to the other sisters.  

“Don't do anything stupid.”  

“Such little faith.”  Genji chuckled as his apprentice's eyes rolled and he made his way back into the castle. He made his way to the library when he happened upon a strange scene; two retainers were blocking the corridor to the main hall and were having a rather heated debate with none other than Irohahime.  Genji carefully approached enough to be within earshot of the conversation, brows furrowed with interest.

“My lady, please.  This is not a matter for you to concern yourself with.” One of the men explained, clear exasperation on his face.  

“It certainly is if it involves my family.  I demand you let me pass and have words with my father.”  She insisted but the man raised his arms.  

“I cannot.  You are forbidden to sit in for his council.  As his daughter you should know Lord Date keeps his war councils a very, very private affair.”  The man's eyes narrowed. “It is not a woman's place to sit in for such things.”  Genji could see her shoulders tense even through her thick furisode and she spun away from the two men, clear anger etched across her face. Genji dipped back behind the corner, his back against the wall to make way for her as she turned the corner suddenly, a small gasp slipping from her as he met her eyes.  

“Good morning, my lady.  I've come to collect you.” He said as he crossed his arms lazily and she glowered at him.  

“I need no collecting.  Off with you.” She ordered then suddenly the anger was gone and she started to reach for him before stopping herself, her hand falling back to her side.  “Wait. Perhaps you can be of some use to me.”  

“How flattering.” Genji scoffed as he pushed away from the wall.  “I did not seek you out to play as an errand boy, but to ask something of you.”

“Do me this favor and I will answer your question.” She insisted.  Genji's gaze hardened.

“No.  This is more important than whatever fancy you've wrapped yourself up in.  I need to discuss this...  madness we both seem caught up in.” He started and the smallest hint of pink tinged her cheeks.  She avoided his gaze to compose herself.  

“Please, you must understand, this is important...” She said again but he cut her off.

“Not as important as this.” He said and she looked at him.  She sighed and the desperation in her eyes caught him off guard to the point his breath nearly hitched.

“Genji, please...  You're the only man I can trust...”  The hurt in her voice cut him to the bone.  Genji stared at her for a long time then grit his teeth, his fist tightening in frustration.  

“What do you wish of me?” He muttered.  She bit her lips to suppress the joy in her expression.

“My father is holding a war council.  Something has happened that led to his returning to Yonezawa.  I want to know what would make him retreat like this.  He is far too reckless to just leave a battle he is confident he can win.”  She explained and glared at the corridor she had come from.  “He is so very paranoid of spies though.  His councils are small and he stations guards all around the main hall when he calls one.  Help me.”  Genji stared at her incredulously and wanted to rebuke her for such a ridiculous request but then sighed in resignation.  

“Very well.  Follow me, my lady.”  He started down the hall away from the main hall and she questioned whether or not to follow him at first, glancing back at the blocked corridor before finally following after him.  

“Where are we going?” She started to ask when they had moved further away from the main hall, worry clearly in her voice.

“Fret not.  If this castle is anything like others I've been in, it has many secrets known to very few.” He said and slid open the door to one of the rooms reserved for storing the surplus of bedding and dishware for grand feasts.  Genji closed the door behind them as he moved along the wall, his fingertips brushing over the panels.  Irohahime watched him with interest and opened her mouth to question him when he dropped to one knee, his hands feeling along the corner at the back of the room.  She approached him and gasped when he knocked his fingers against a wood panel then hit it roughly with his fist, a small door swinging open.  

“There, thought as much.” He said and stood up.  

“What on earth?  What is this?” She asked, leaning forward to eye the small doorway.

“Escape tunnel.  Many castles have them.  In times of siege, lords need a way to have their family escape safely.” Genji explained then dropped to his knees and crawled inside the doorway. “I wouldn't doubt this passage passes directly through the castle, having a door in all the main rooms.” He continued, his voice a muffled echo.  Irohahime paused a moment to debate whether she should follow then quickly threw off her furisode and outer kimono until she was dressed in her nagajuban.  Quickly, she followed after him as Genji wormed his way through the passage.  It did not widen for some time and there was the smallest worry at the back of his mind that he would get stuck, the claustrophobia picking at his anxiety.  It went away immediately when the passage widened suddenly and he was able to stand, through it was still a slim pathway and he was forced to walk sideways.  His chest tightened when he felt fingers slid into his hand and he resisted the urge to pause and look at her.  Even with the prosthetic of his damaged hand, she still held on to him, her fingers intertwining with his.  Genji swallowed and ignored the sensation, keeping his focus trained on listening for voices. Minutes passes as he continued their journey through the walls when the familiar jovial voice of Lord Shigezane hit his ears.  His pace quickened and the path widened again, the light changing thanks to the wood paneled wall being replaced by a silk screen.  Genji was careful to not touch it as it would give away their hiding place, but he made out the shapes of the war council and realized they were behind the main dais.  They were close enough that the lords and chosen few retainers were well within earshot.  He glanced at Irohahime but her eyes were wide with amazement as she carefully knelt closer to the screen, dropping his hand as she leaned forward. Genji sat down and rested against the wall as the men began to speak, half listening as he was busy staring at her and feeling somewhat pleased with himself.

“Amazing...” She whispered.  Genji caught her sleeve and she looked at him.  He pressed a finger to his lips and she could not help grinning.  It was a feeling that was infectious and he could not help his own smirk.  She pressed a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle and moved to the wall next to him when he urged her away from the screen to avoid detection.  Irohahime looked at him and mouthed a thank you and Genji gave her a soft smile. Their gaze held for a moment and he saw her eyes soften, making his heartbeat quicken.  On instinct, he began to reach for her when the words of Lord Katakura cut through the haze.

“So what became of Lord Shiki?”   Genji froze. He knew that name and his head snapped back to the shapes behind the screen.  There was a pained sigh from one of the retainers.

“It was like a vision of hell.  Lord Oda razed the city and claimed his head.”  The unseen man explained.  “He was a promising lord.  A foil for the Lord of Hell and a promising ally to the Date if the Ashina had not kept our army at bay.”  

“Where was his general?  Lord Yojimbo?” Lord Masamune growled.  Genji felt his blood turn to ice.  He knew of Lord Shiki the Lion; a lord that had started with nothing, the same as Lord Oda Nobunaga, but he had bested all odds and had been seen as a beacon of light in such a dark time.  He had risen to victory thanks to the aid of his closest friend and general, the Thousand Man Killer Yojimbo and his Band of Six.  The legends of his deeds had begun to spread across Japan, but there was one thing the stories had gotten wrong every time.  There had been a shinobi in Yojimbo's band, but every story had attributed him to the Iga clan or Koka clan.  In truth he had belonged to a clan that was held in such secrecy, tales of supernatural beasts would be borne from its rumored existence for years to come.  Less a clan and more a cult, its leader had claimed Genji from the river his mother had tried to drown him in.  It was a clan that had turned him into the empty vessel designed for killing men under the cool embrace of night.  It was home to the man that had taken his eye.

“He is dead.  The Band of Six were found massacred in the woods.  We only know of it because one of the other ninjas employed by Lord Shiki sought them out when Lord Oda laid siege to the city.  Lord Mitsuhide was responsible.”  The retainer continued.  “He recovered one of the men Lord Yojimbo had captured and he spilled his guts over what had happened.  Apparently his master was horribly tortured by Lord Yojimbo's personal shinobi before Lord Mitsuhide attacked.”  

Genji had begun to tremble, icy sweat beading down his neck and back.  

Jin.  His mouth became dry.  

“According to the scout, Lord Mitsuhide was injured but ultimately survived and claimed the bodies of Yojimbo and two of his men.”  The retainer finished and Lord Masamune let out an irritated sigh.  

“So that's it then?  Another ally cut down.”  He grumbled wearily.  Genji did not hear anything else, his head filled with an empty roar, a distant ring growing louder each moment as he processed the death of the only family he had ever known.  He stood up and left the screen, Irohahime looking up questioningly.

“Genji...?” She breathed, but he did not hear her. His head was a mess of emotions; rage, fear, but above all, hopelessness.  Back in the storeroom, Genji dropped to his knees and let out a roar of sorrowful anger as he slammed his fist into the floorboards.  The pain behind his lost eye became agonizing as memories flooded his thoughts.  

It was after sunset and he was running as fast as he could.  The air hitched in his lungs and his face winced, feeling the painful strain as he struggled to breath.  Branches sliced at his arms as he tore through the forest, leaves flung into the air as he desperately tried to put distance between he and his pursuers. Foolishly, he dared a look back, the two boys less than a yard away, and a low hanging branch caught him under the chin.  His legs flew out from under him, a gag of pain bursting from his lips as he fell backwards.  His head knocked against the ground, sending stars across his vision, and he was barely conscious enough to register the crunch of leaves as footsteps closed in on him.

“He went flying!  Maybe he is a devil!”  One of the boys jeered and stood over him.  Genji could barely focus on the two boys, his vision still hazy.  

“Let's find out.”  The other boy hissed.  Genji let out another painful gasp as the boy knelt and pinned his sharp knee against his chest.  His hands flew up to shove the leg off and the boy cursed and looked at his friend.

“Hold his hands.” He snapped.  The other boy grabbed Genji's wrists, his dirty nails digging into his skin.  

“Stop...  please...” Genji begged, his lower lip quivering.  He knew why it was happening.  Even after he had been brought to the village after the burning of the Imagawa clan, it had been suspected he was a child of rape.  The soft blue of his eyes was something so uncommon, Genji learned quickly in his early childhood that he was too different to have friends.  Once he had turned five, his childhood grew even more isolated.  Pale, soft blond hair had replaced the light brown strands that had started to fall out as he grew older.  Once he had turned ten, his hair was completely blond and painfully noticeable.  He would never be inconspicuous with such features.  None of his “family” would directly meet his gaze even if they had to.  While he was not bullied by the other children in the village openly, he was treated far more coldly by the elders who seemed to turn a blind eye when he suffered at the hands of others in private.  This moment was no different as the boy kneeling over him drew a small knife from his sleeve.  Genji began to tremble.

“Don't.  Please don't.”  He pleaded, the boy responded by digging his knee into Genji's chest harder, eliciting a whine of pain from him.  The boy's hand cupped around Genji's cheek and brow, his fingers forcing his left eye open wide.  

“Don't squirm.  Otherwise I'll cut it into a bunch of pieces.” He snickered and pressed the blade against Genji's lower lid.  

“Stop!  STOP!!”  Genji screamed, kicking at his captor causing the other boy's nails to cut into his wrists.  The boys snickered until a loud whack punctuated the air.  The boy holding Genji's wrists fell back while the other boy looked up in surprise until he went flying, catching the full weight of a bokken against his cheek.  Genji rolled to his side to look at his savior and his blood turned to ice.  It was Buzenbō Jin.  The other boy's long, black hair was tied up in a messy knot, sweat beading down his sharp face as he held the bokken ready in case one of the boys stood up again.  

“Are you alright?” He asked finally and held out his hand.  Genji was wary of that hand and scrambled back to hide his face with a bow.  

“I'm fine, master.”  He said shakily.  

“Master?  What are you saying?  Are you a fool?” Jin asked in bewilderment.  Genji did not rise from his crouch.  

“You're Master Buzenbō's son.  I'm not allowed to talk to you.”  

“Says who?  The elders?  They can rot for all I care. I'll talk to whoever I please.” Jin snapped and tucked the bokken away.  “Now stand up.”  Genji hesitated, unsure if he was walking into a trap.  Raising his head, he met Jin's glower, but there was no cruelty in the other boy's eyes.  If anything, he seemed annoyed that Genji was taking so long to stand.  

“I said stand up.  Are you deaf as well?”  He grumbled.  Genji hurried clumsily to his feet.  

“N-no.  I just...  why did you...”  He started when Jin grabbed his hand and started to drag him through the forest.

“Silence.  Your face is bleeding.”  Jin said and Genji could not help staring dumbly at the back of the other boy's head.  

“Why...?” He asked again when Jin had stopped at the edge of a brook and dipped his sleeve into the cold water.  Jin pressed his damp sleeve against the blood oozing from the small slice under Genji's eye.  

“Why, what?”  Jin said.

“Why did you help me?”  The words were choked by a weak sob.

“Because I like you.”  The boy said and smiled. “Father says that if I'm to lead one day, I need to choose men I can trust with my life.  I'm tired of seeing everyone push you down when you're working harder than any of us.”  Genji stared at Jin and tears welled up in his eyes.

“Th-thank...”  He could not even get the words out when he began to cry.  Jin's face twisted in surprise and confusion.

“Wha—stop crying!  This is not the display of a warrior!  Stop being a child!”  Jin ordered but Genji continued to cry, rubbing away tears as a smile broke across his face.  

His eye snapped open as pain blossomed fresh behind his empty socket.  He felt a trail of acrid tears coursing down his cheek, the memories too bittersweet as he woke to the reality that Jin was dead.    Genji rolled to his side as he dry-heaved with a sob of anguish, nearly toppling off the chair he had been laying in.  He coughed again while a woman in an open yukata stared at him with disinterest.  

“You've been here all night.  If you want another pipe, pay up.” She sighed irritably.  Genji's eye barely focused on her face, her make-up cracking with the damp air of the opium den.  

“Yes please.” He muttered, digging through his robes for coins and shoving them in her hands.  “Another bottle too.”  She nodded and left his side as he fell back against the chair heavily.  The day before had become a blur; his thoughts hazy as he remembered being in the storage room bloodying his fists against the floor and then he was suddenly in the opium den in the worst part of town.  The tears came as memories flooded his mind and he pressed his hands over his eyes.  

Why wasn't I there?  I could have saved him. His hands moved from his eyes when he was faced with his guiltiest desire.  I could have at least died with him...  A sob broke from him, ignored by the denizens of the house or the woman as she crouched by him and lit the pipe then cracked open the fresh jug of sake.

The air was damp with heat and the coming of a storm, the weight of it pressing down on him as he drunkenly stumbled through the streets back to Yonezawa.  He could feel the haze wearing off slowly and he hurriedly dug through his slurry thoughts to recall the hidden alcohol in the floorboards.  Realization sobered him when he remembered Hiromi would be in the room.  The last thing he wanted was his apprentice to see him at the end of his rope and he shambled through the trees until he found the faulted wall that would deposit him back into the castle grounds.  As he trudged through the gardens, the fastest route to the kitchens, he dashed forward on instinct to jump the stream running underneath the main house.  His foot slipped as soon as it touched the other side and he pitched backwards and into the stream with a loud splash.  Coming to the surface with a water-filled gasp, he coughed raggedly until he sat in the water for a long moment to steady his breathing.  The cold had an unpleasantly sobering effect and he sighed as he stood up and sloshed out of the stream, water streaming down his robes as they clung to his skin. His walk continued until he finally found the kitchens and, stealing a bottle, he began to circle the grounds as he downed the sweet wine. Caring little for how much trouble he might find himself in, Genji entered the castle when the cold damp of his robes began to bother him.  Like a ghost, he shambled through the halls with little rhyme or reason until he approached the library.  The door was open and he shoved his way inside.  The lanterns had been put out for the night, but the presence of someone having been there not too long ago lingered.  There was a scent to the air he found himself falling into until he approached the small study area at the end of the shelves. The chair had been left out and draped over its frame was a blue and silver furisode.  There was the smallest hesitation in him before he ran his fingers over the smooth silk, his fingertips pausing on the looping patterns of bird wings and flowers.  Grasping a handful of the fabric, he lifted the garment and pressed the cool silk against his face.  He breathed in the scent of her deeply and the calming aroma of chamomile soothed his thoughts for a small moment.   A strange realization dawned on him and his eye slid open to stare blankly as he pondered over his muddled thoughts.  Coming to a conclusion, Genji laid the furisode back over the chair and left the library.  As he made his way through the castle, the nagging voice of reason tugged at him but he was done with reason and logic and good behavior.  He had learned which room belonged to her the first day he had met her and the knowledge had plagued him the moment he realized his undeniable attraction toward her.  Reason struggled one last time when he paused at the ornate shōji that separated them.  The paper of the paneled door was still glowing with the light of a low burning candle and he hesitated at the idea of her still awake.  Before the fear could grab him, Genji shoved opened the door and stepped inside.  She jumped and dropped the book she had been reading and stared up at him with surprise and some horror.  

“M-Master Genji?  What...  What in seven hells are you doing?”  The fear was not for him, but for the extreme breach of etiquette and the rumors it could spread should someone see he had entered her room.  Genji's eye remained on her as he shut the door and approached her.  His head was still swimming with drunkenness, but the lingering chill of the stream kept his thoughts level. Irohahime was staring at him, still in shock, until he saw her eyes take in the state of him.

“Is it raining?  You're soaked from head to toe.” She said and started to stand.  Her yukata hung loosely on her figure as she moved, the shape of her no longer confined to the bulkiness of a kimono.  He glimpsed the curve of her neck and far more collarbone than he was prepared for.  She did not even make it to her feet when he was on her.  A small cry burst from her but he pressed a hand over her mouth.

“Don't.  Don't, please.”  He begged as he felt the heat of tears gathering in his eye.  The stiffness of her body told him she was terrified by what he was doing and he imagined she was probably preparing herself for his violent assault against her, borne from their shared frustrations.  He pulled away from her and instead crouched into a defeated bow.  

“My lady, permit me just one favor.  Just this once.” His voice was low, the hint of a tremor in it.  She sat up and stared at him for a long time, unsure of what she should do as both pity and fear fought for control.

“What favor do you ask of me?”  She dared and struggled to keep the fear from finding its way into her voice.  

“Please disregard the barrier of master and servant between us.  Just for tonight.” He pleaded and started to raise his head.

“I don't understand.  Why...?  What do you need of me?” She asked and tensed as she waited for his answer.  Genji raised his head with a pitiful smile as tears streamed down his face.

“Let me cry at your knee?  After all, I've just learned my brother is dead.”  Irohahime covered her mouth at the sight of him, her heart breaking.  She reached for him and pulled him against her tightly.

“Yes.  Anything you need.”  She said soothing, her lips against his ear.  “I'm here.”  Genji felt his body give out and he collapsed against her, burying his face against her thighs as he let the sorrow burst free.  Time no longer mattered as Genji let himself grieve, Irohahime's gentle fingers stroking his damp hair as she held him.  The tears continued to roll out of him even as his eye unfocused, having exhausted his body of anymore sobs.  His eye blinked slowly until his vision focused as he heard her soft voice break the stillness.  Irohahime had begun to sing, barely above a breath.  It was a story he knew, a tale begging the goddess Amaterasu to come from her hiding place in a cave after a foolish prank by the god Susanoo had upset her.  He almost laughed, but instead he buried his face against her as his arms slid around her hips.  

“That is a story I was told many times as a child.” He said once she had started the tale over again.  

“Where was that?” She asked as her fingers slid down the nape of his neck.  “Your childhood?”    He did not speak for a long time, finding the words he could use.  

“Someplace beautiful, but terrible.  It's a place meant for a certain kind of people.”  He finally answered.  

“Did your brother and you grow up there together?”

“Yes.  We were inseparable.  The elders couldn't stand it.” He could not help a smile as he recalled the better memories after their friendship had begun.  “It's so funny to think of it now.  He always seemed so serious until we were alone.  The kind of trouble we got up to, you'd think he was the devil instead of me.”  

“He sounds wonderful.  I'm certain he was grateful to have you with him.”  She said gently and Genji could not help stiffening as he recalled the final moments between he and Jin. Anger rose in him and she noticed when his fingers dug into her hips.

“He should have listened to me.  He belonged with us, with the cult.  He was always so goddamned stubborn.  The trust he had in that excuse for a general Yojimbo.” Genji muttered angrily and moved away from her.  “Look where it got him.  Shinobi are not meant to chase fame and glory.”  The anger grew, not ice but a venomous heat, and he drove his fist into the floor.  Irohahime jumped but Genji could not fight the storm that raged inside him.  

“We are meant to die alone and unknown!  That is our way, Jin!  That is the way of the Hiko cult!”  He sucked in a breath to steady his racing heart.  “You damned fool.  How could you be so selfish...?”  The break in his voice was noticed immediately and she slid her arms around him from behind, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

“Stop.  You cannot control the will of others.” She said firmly.  “Do not curse his name, see that he is celebrated or honored in his death.  Please...”  Genji pulled away from her and looked at her.  

“You can't say this to me.  You can't.”  It was a plea, not an order.  “The things I've done.  The place that made me what I am, we are not meant to be honored.”  He lowered his head with a sad smile.  “We are tools.  Tools meant to be wielded by those that pull the strings of this world.”  She held his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead and his heart squeezed painfully.  

“You are not a tool and you are not a devil.” She said and forced him to meet her eyes.  “Your will is your own.” Genji stared at her for a long time until his brow furrowed as her words struck him.  

“I will avenge him.”  He said coldly.  She stiffened and he looked at her with a cold smile.  “I will find the man that took him from me.  Even if I have to step before the Demon King himself, I will kill Akechi Mitsuhide.”  Her hands fell from his face along with the kindness, replaced by her own anger.  

“That is a foolish desire.” She said sharply and his eyes darkened.  

“Choose your words carefully, my lady.”  He warned, but she was not to be deterred by the chill in his voice.

“Are you so selfish that you do not see what such an action would accomplish?  What about if you were to fail?  The audacity of even attempting to dismantle the Oda clan would spur Lord Nobunaga to no longer capture those against him, but to destroy them.”  Irohahime's face grew hot with fury.  “You would sacrifice innocent lives for a chance at revenge.”  The ice in him spread and he grew angry with her.  

“I'll not warn you again.” He said but she cut him off.  

“Even if you somehow made your way before Lord Mistuhide and claimed his head, what then?  You would be put to death on the spot, or worse.  How dare you.” She spat and shoved at him. “How dare you.”  She lowered her head as she struggled to maintain her composure.  Genji stared at her for a moment, confusion breaking through the cold as she spoke again and looked at him.  He was shocked to see tears running down her face.

“How dare you be so selfish.”  Her words trembled. “You're not even thinking about those you would leave behind!” Her words struck him and his anger vanished.  If he chose to pursue what was undoubtedly a suicide mission, who would be lost in his wake?  Hiromi had no one and would never leave his side.  The realization that his apprentice, his closest friend, the child a small part of him had come to feel was his own would be cut down next to him shook him.  The fact that she had seen it and he did not disturbed him.  He stared at Irohahime and took in how beautiful she truly was.  She was crying for him.  It was a feeling Genji could not entirely grasp, this realization that he would be missed when he died.  Confusion flooded his mind as he studied her face until it shifted to suspicion and he grabbed her.

“Make your intentions known towards me.  Now.” He demanded.  The shock of his roughness against her shook some of the sadness from her and she stared up at him with that small fear again.

“Genji...  If Lord Oda killed you, I cannot bear the thought...”  She said and he narrowed his eye at her.

“Tell me what you feel for me,” he hissed, “why I'm unraveled by your damned presence.”

“I want to save you.”  She said finally.  “There is something so fascinating, so beautiful inside you but there is so much sadness.  I think I may be in—”  

“Silence.  Don't say another word.”  He snapped and drew her close, his brows furrowing as he gave her a threatening look.  “Men like me are not capable of love.”  In truth, her words were slowly killing him.  Knowing he had earned the love of another despite what he looked like, what he was, it was too much to bear.  He was not worthy of her kindness, not while his work as a shinobi had begun again.  Her eyes hardened with anger and rejection and she shoved away from him.

“You...  Fine.  That's all you are then.  A devil.”

The dam broke and it was as if his inner demons had broken from their leashes.  His anger, sorrow, and hopelessness combined with the infuriating lust he had repressed collided into an explosion of madness and he grabbed her.  His hands dug into her arms and he saw the flash of pain in her eyes.  

“You think I am a devil?  I'll show you a devil.” He hissed coldly and pinned her to the bedding.  A yelp rose from her, but he shoved two fingers into her mouth to stop any scream that might try to escape.  Fear was in her eyes as she stared up at him, but his resolve was far from crumbling at the sight.

“I've had enough judgment from a lewd woman who becomes thrilled at the sight of men bleeding.”  He said through grit teeth.  In an instant, his anger was replaced by shock when she dug her teeth into his fingers, a soft moan rising from her throat. Genji was equal parts awed and horrified by the change in her eyes; fear morphing into aroused excitement.  Too stunned to move, he did not fight when she grabbed his wrist and sucked at his fingers, her lips tight against his skin.  A small pop sounded when she pulled the digits from her mouth then ran her tongue over her bottom lip.  She pushed up against him, her fingers gripping his hair and he felt her hot breath against his face as she pressed her forehead to his.  

“Show me.” She demanded, her voice rough with need. “Show me or I'll bite through your lip.”  Snapped back to his senses as her words sent a renewed slash of lust through him, Genji yanked her yukata open and pulled her legs around his waist. Her head fell back with a moan when his hardening desire pressed against her and he felt her heels against his back as she locked her ankles around him.  Her hands slipped from his hair to grasp his shoulders when his hands ran up her thighs, his fingers digging into her hips and forcing her tighter against him as a delicious friction rubbed between them.  Genji ran his tongue hungrily up her neck, drawing another moan from her lips.  

“Order me, my lady.”  He breathed, his teeth brushing her jaw.  Her hands moved from his shoulders to squeeze his throat and he gasped softly at the sensation, his eye lolling back with pleasure when she squeezed tighter.  

“Please me.  Now.”  Her voice was low but sharp as a blade and Genji could not stifle a rasping moan.  He pinned her against the bedding again, tearing the rest of her clothes away so his hands could ghost across her skin.  Irohahime's back arched as his lips traced the line down her stomach, pausing just long enough to flick his tongue against her navel, before slipping between her thighs.  Her eyes snapped open when she felt his lips and tongue against her most intimate recesses, her toes digging into the bedding.  

“Genji!  Ahh...!” Her voice wavered in protest, but she could not bring herself to stop him when his hands grasped her thighs and pulled her closer so he could continue his gentle assault. Unable to resist the pleasure he lashed against her, Irohahime dug her fingers into the folds of the bedding as if to hold onto her slipping composure.  Small, mewling moans began to rise from her so his tongue traced a faster pace against the soft flesh until her legs began to tremble and writhe.  Genji's hands left her thighs to slide up her hips and hold her lower back, steadying her as she strained against his mouth.  His lips pulled against a particularly sensitive part and her body jolted as a pained moan rose from her, transforming into a cry of bliss as she came.  He took in the scent of her womanhood as she trembled from the overload of sensation, his lips carefully brushing against her as she drew in breath after dazed breath.

“Do I please you, my lady?”  Genji asked when she had regained some of her wits, his voice rough with satisfaction.  

“Intensely.” She sighed dreamily and sat up, her hands tugging the collar of his robes so he rose to his knees. “More.”  The demand in her tone reignited his arousal and his hands tightened around her waist, twisting so her back was against his chest.  One hand slipped between her thighs and he was pleased by the moans that burst from her as his fingers stroked against her slick entrance.  

“As you wish.”  He purred against her ear, his tongue brushing her earlobe followed by his teeth.  Her shoulders pushed against him as he ripped the sash from his hakama, freeing his cock.  He slipped a leg between hers then lifted her leg over his hip.  His busy fingers left her warmth and pushed against her stomach so their hips met.  Her back arched when he entered her and she chewed at her lips to stifle a cry of pain and relief.  Genji fought against his desperate lust as he filled her, her inner muscles tight and softer than velvet.  When she began to relax, he pushed again and was met with a soft, surprised moan.  The sound unraveled all of his remaining control and he muttered a curse as his fingers dug into her hips and he began to move.  The air was punctuated by her small voice pleading for more as he thrust against her.  Falling into a satisfying rhythm, Genji's hand moved up to tilt her head so he could kiss her.  Her lips parted and his tongue slid inside her mouth, swallowing another moan that rose from her throat.  Irohahime struggled against him, the muscles in her legs tensing as his tongue brushed over hers again and again.  She broke from him with a gasp and his hand pushed against her shoulder, forcing her onto her belly. Genji rose to his knees and held her hips in place as he thrust against her faster, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he fought back the urge to spill his seed until he had satisfied her again.  She pulled at the bedding and he smirked at the sight of her toes curling, her breathing growing rapid as she began to wriggle against him again.  His pace grew hectic, his fingers digging into her skin so deeply a bruise was sure to follow.  Her inner muscles clenched around him suddenly when she threw back her head and cried out his name.  A strained groan burst from him as he came, the muscles of his stomach tensing painfully.  His vision fell out of focus as his eye rolled back, a wave of euphoria flooding his mind.

Strength gone, Genji slouched over her, his forehead resting against her back.  He gasped for breath and lost himself in the sound of her wild heartbeat.  Never had he known such complete satisfaction and he dazed in and out of reality as the afterglow dulled out the darker voices in his mind.  It was a peace unlike anything he had ever known and he found himself craving more.  As if she had read his thoughts, Irohahime turned in his arms and he let out a reluctant sigh as he slipped free of her warmth.  Her arms wrapped around his neck and tightened, forcing his mouth against hers.  Genji surrendered eagerly to her hungry kiss but then tensed when he felt her fingers grasp his length.  He broke from her lips with a surprised groan as she began to stroke him and he looked at her.  A smile made for a succubus greeted him and her eyes narrowed.

“My appetite is far from sated, Master Genji-roh...” She purred and her grip tightened making Genji grit his teeth.  

“Do as you will.” He had hoped to sound challenging, but it came out as a plea and he realized he was immensely drawn to the idea of submission to Irohahime's whims.   

There was warmth against his eyelid and his eye slowly opened, the first rays of dawn peeking through one of the windows. He could barely register his surroundings, the inside of his head a clouded haze.  For a moment, he wondered if he was coming down from an opium binge the previous night but there was no lingering migraine.  Something soft brushed over his stomach and he raised his head to find the source.  It was Irohahime's hand and his eye widened when he realized she was resting against him, the bedding slipping off her naked body as she tangled her leg with his.  

Fuck.  

He sat up slowly so as not to wake her, but stopped when he felt something tug against him.  Genji pushed the bedding aside and a mix of surprise and embarrassment crossed his face when he saw the red silk cord of Irohahime's obi.  One end was still wrapped around her arm, the other inside his loosened hakama and still tied to his cock.  The memory of the previous night flashed in his mind and a giddiness had him flushed in the face as he recalled her near insatiable creativity.  He hurriedly removed the cord before it had a chance to repeat its delightful torment and the movement stirred her into waking.  A soft moan rose from her and she rolled away from him onto her back.  Her eyes slowly opened and focused on the ceiling until her gaze shifted to him.  A cat-like smile curved her lips.

“You're still here?  Good.”  The dreamy innocence of her expression gave way to lust and Genji's breath caught in his throat as she rolled on top of him, pinning him back against the floor.  Her lips then teeth tugged at his ear and Genji's head fell back as he let out a groan thick with desire.  There was nothing left in him that could resist her.  The satisfaction she had bestowed on him the night before was something he knew he would never be able to get enough of.  

“I am surprised you can still move, my lady.”  He teased.  She bit his ear roughly and he let out a hiss of pleasure. “Careful now, I think you've left enough marks as it is.” Irohahime sat up and he watched her eyes find every bruise, bite, and scratch she had left on him.  Genji's hands moved to her thighs and slid over her hips to grasp the supple flesh of her ass.  The way she straddled him felt so perfect, almost as if she had been made specifically to fit against his body.  

“Don't tempt me, I am already struggling to maintain my reason.”  She warned, her fingers digging into the muscle of his stomach as her hips began to rock against him.  Genji's eye lolled back as her warm entrance brushed against his swelling cock.  

“We should not make this worse than it already is.” His tone betrayed his need and she leaned forward to nip at his collarbone as her hips lowered, making him grit his teeth as she urged him inside her slick opening.  The soft muscles squeezed around him and his fingers dug into her skin as her hips started grinding against his lazily.  

“I care not.  Satisfy me again.” She ordered and Genji rolled her underneath him before she had finished speaking. His thrusts became frenzied, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he let go of the last of his control over the mad lust that had plagued him.  Even with her appetite the night before, the desire she inspired in him was enough to push the exhaustion from his mind.  The air was punctuated by the soft mewling of her voice, her legs wrapping around his waist so tightly he could barely pull his hips away.  He rose to his knees and forced her legs apart, his hands cupped under her knees with a vice-like grip as he spread her open. Her eyes rolled with pleasure and surrendered with a dazed smile when he began to roll his hips with deliberate strokes, brushing directly against her most sensitive nerves.  Genji could not help his satisfied smile as he watched the near drunken bliss twist her face into something far from ladylike.  

“More!  More...!” She pleaded and he let out a devious chuckle.  

“As you wish, my lady...”  He sucked in his bottom lip, teeth digging into the skin, and steeled his resolve.  There was an overwhelming need to not only satisfy her to the end, but to have her begging for him by delaying it.  Taking one last moment to fight against his own desire, Genji curled his toes and leaned over her as the muscles in his legs tensed.  It started slowly, just enough so she could understand his pace was changing, but then he began to pump faster and she realized he was not going to slow down.  Her eyes snapped open as she cried out.  

“Oh, no!  Don't!  You'll ruin me!” She moaned, the waves building inside her as he forced her to that burning peak. Mere seconds from climax, he slowed suddenly but continued to stroke against her and she was abruptly pulled away from relief but back into a building pleasure.  It took moments for her to understand and he grinned when she gave him a pitiful, but thoroughly pleasured, look.  The deep strokes started to come faster and her toes curled as she tried to resist.  

“Genji!  I can't!”  She begged as he forced her to that burning peak again.  

“Can't what, my lady?” He teased and he hissed with pleasure as her nails raked down his chest.  She tried to speak but her words were lost in a gasp as he slowed down again and she was stunned by the sudden drop in rhythm.  One eye half-lidded, she could barely focus on him as he brought her temptingly close to climax before denying her relief once more.  Genji felt the muscles in his legs and stomach straining as he tortured her again and again, his own desire gnawing at his control like a starving animal.  His eye squeezed shut as his jaw tightened and his rhythm changed to drive her mad again until her voice, small and wavering called out to him.

“Please Genji...  I'll go mad...”  She pleaded. His eye snapped open and he looked at her, hiding his delight behind a smirk.  

“Oh, will you?”  He teased and leaned over her, his hand releasing her leg to press against the floor by her head.  Her hands slid through his hair and she held onto the nape of his neck.

“Yes.  Yes.  It's too much.  Break me.”  She breathed and he dropped her other leg to grip the bedding next to her hip as her legs instantly looped around him.  His breathing was punctuated by moans as he thrust against her desperately, sweat beading down his neck.  Mewling, desperate cries burst out of her as he pushed her roughly to that crest for a final time.  His teeth grit and he muttered a curse as he came, unable to bring himself to break the grip she had around his waist.  Brain swimming in pleasure he buried himself in her warmth, his hands grasping fistfuls of the bedding.  Her eyes, half-lidded and rolling out of focus, were staring blankly at the ceiling and he could not help a laugh as he collapsed against her.  His lips brushed against her neck, tasting her sweat and he sighed languidly.  

“You are too much, my lady.”  He teased and smiled when her fingers slid through the damp strands of his hair.  Once he had caught his breath, he lifted his head to look at her.  A contented smile curved her lips and her fingers left his hair to cradle his face.  She drew him close and Genji's eye fell shut as she kissed him.  He lifted her into his lap and broke the kiss to nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck.  The softness of her, the smell of her, he longed to forget himself in it.  Ideas started to play through his head when reality settled over him, less threatening than before, and he looked at her.  

“I should leave.  If a man is found in your room, especially one like me, the scandal might ruin your marriage and the political ties that comes with it.”  He explained, his tone bitter. Her brows furrowed, the smallest hint of hurt in her eyes but she nodded and slipped out of his arms.  Genji stood and turned away from her as he slid his now dry robes back on.  

“What becomes of us now?” She asked after a long silence held between them and he turned to look at her.  She was staring up at him, her yukata still parted and baring a line of her soft flesh.  Genji tightened his sash and slid on his haori then stood over her.  

“Nothing, my lady.” He said and gave her a sad smile.  The heat of anger sparked in her eyes, but he knew it was not directed at him.  Unable to resist how adorable she was even with such a hard look of determination on her face, Genji held her face and drew her in for a rough kiss.  She sank into him, her arms winding languidly around his shoulders.  The moment was interrupted by the clatter of the door in its track as it was forced open.  A handmaid was in the midst of a deep bow as she called out a morning greeting.

“Good morning, Lady Irohahime!  It is nearly breakfast and your sisters are waiting!” The maid sang then looked up, her smile vanishing as her jaw dropped.  Cold sweat beaded down Genji's back as the woman took in the scene.  Irohahime was all but draped around him, one of her legs bare as she had wrapped it around one of his once he had started kissing her.  A tense silence held in the room until the caw of distant crow broke the suspense.  The maid slammed the door shut with a yelp.

“Forgive me, my lady!  Why is that foreigner-faced man in your room!?”  The woman cried out and Genji grit his teeth in regret.  Irohahime took in the situation in seconds and yanked at his collar to drag him to the window.  

“Go!  Go now!  If you're caught, my father will have your head!” She shoved him to the window and Genji flung the shutter aside.  He felt very tempted to make a joke about he was used to being tossed through windows, whether drunk or otherwise, but he thought better of it and slipped into the garden.  He dared one last look back at her, but Irohahime had closed the window.  Genji's thoughts shifted to how much time he had to escape before the maid babbled to the others what she had seen.  At most, he had maybe an hour before Lord Masamune was made aware of his daughter's assault by a hired bodyguard.  Genji darted through the gardens and halls, careful to pause in alcoves or behind pillars when he heard the presence of servants or guards, his goal the faulted wall that had served as his escape many times over.  Successfully evading the denizens of the castle, Genji tore across the courtyard to the wall. He crouched to vault into the tree when he paused, his thoughts snapping to Hiromi.  The gravity of his actions floored him.  It would not be just his head now.  The cold fingers of terror crept up his back and he spun away from the wall to dash to the servants quarters.  

“Hiromi!” He shouted as he slammed open the door then stopped.  Hiromi was sitting on the floor, fists balled into the tatami mat, glaring daggers at Genji.  Two men stood in the room, hands on their swords as their gaze fell on the new intruder.  

“Lord Date wishes to have words with you.”  One of the men said roughly.  

Once Genji's hands had been bound and he and Hiromi dragged into the dungeon, it became apparent Lord Date was not interested in sharing words.  Briefly, they had been informed by a very unamused Lord Katakura that they were to await trial.  

“To think we had been fooled by a child and an irresponsible adult.”  Lord Katakura had said as he shook his head and left the dungeon.  

“How rude.  He called you an irresponsible adult.” Genji chuckled to himself while looking at Hiromi.  There was not a trace of calm in the youth's face and he took note of the small vein throbbing in his apprentice's temple.  

“You...  What did you do?”  Hiromi hissed.  Genji cocked an eyebrow.  

“What did the guards tell you?”  He thought he could dodge most of the lecture if he could alter some details of the story Hiromi had been given.  

“That you raped Lord Date's daughter.”  The youth seethed.  Genji's jaw tightened and he swallowed, realizing he would not be safe from a lecture.  

“I see.  In my defense,” he quickly threw up his arms, “it was a mutual affair!”  The sentence just barely made it out of his mouth before he was forced to block Hiromi's sharp fists.

“You idiot!  You absolute pig!  I can't believe you!” Hiromi yelled, face bright red with anger.  “What were you thinking?!  If I die here because of you, I'll curse you to have goblins drag you into Hell for being such an absolute degenerate!”

“Stop, you  miserable imp!  You're not dying here and neither am I!”  He shot back and reacted to the sailing kick almost a second too late, Hiromi's heel missing his cheek by a hair.  Genji stepped back and dropped to his knees before the apoplectic youth.  

“This is our wheelhouse, you fool.  How many times have we escaped from prisons like this?”  He commented and gestured around them.  Hiromi paused the assault and considered Genji's words. Steadily, the anger grew less volatile and Hiromi stopped to take in several calming breaths.  

“I'm calm.”  The youth said.

“No, you aren't.”  Genji teased Hiromi glared at him furiously.

“I'm calm!”  The youth said, voice cracking. Hiromi's eyes widened and the youth's hands were immediately clapped over their mouth.  Genji could not help an amused and surprised look as he started to laugh.  

“You won't pass for a boy much longer with that girlish voice.”  He said and stood up.  Hiromi turned away angrily.

“Sh-shut up.”  The voice was noticeably deeper, but could not hide the fact its owner was clearly female.  

“No time for you to be embarrassed, my little flower.”  Genji said teasingly and Hiromi fixed him with a venomous look.  Before Genji had suggested Hiromi pass for a boy to make travel easier, he had often called her girlish nicknames that she partly enjoyed but was also annoyed by.  

“Pig.”  She mumbled as she shoved past him and started to check the walls for weaknesses.

“Just a bit, yeah.”  He chuckled.  

For the next two days, the two had run the gamut of tricks to be used to escape the dungeons of Yonezawa.  Unfortunately, the prison had been reinforced with stone, making any loose paneling they found useless.  Hiromi had attempted to slip through the bars but, despite their being made of wood, the lattice pattern was made thick and no holes were small enough for her lithe body to slip through, no matter what shape she took.  A plan had formulated when Genji had taken to watching the guards' rotations and found a small weakness.  There was the briefest moment where the new guard would lean forward to check the lock, leaving his neck unguarded.  

On the morning of their third day of imprisonment, the rush of footsteps had Genji on his feet before he was fully awake and he shifted into a defensive stance.  Ten guards stood in front of the bars led by Lord Shigezane.  

“Approach.”  He ordered.  There was no humor in his usual jovial face.  Genji did as ordered and paused at the door, attention fully on the lord.  

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”  He quipped and Hiromi punched his arm.  

“Lord Masamune has summoned you for an explanation. Though if we're being honest, it's more of a sentencing.”  The humor was back in Lord Shigezane's face, but it was not the kind Genji found particularly funny.  

“I see.  Best not to keep the One-Eyed Dragon waiting.”  Genji said and put his arms through the bars submissively.  Once shackled, Genji and Hiromi were led from the depths of Yonezawa's dungeons back into the main castle.  Servants, retainers, and maids hurried from their path, whispering amongst each other as they were led past and through the winding halls to the main hall.  The large doors were thrust open with a loud clatter and revealed Lord Masamune seated upon the dais, his sharp face tense with anger.  Genji was brought forward and forced to his knees, Hiromi alongside him.  A silence fell in the room and he studied the fearsome lord's face.  With some mild amusement, Genji noted that Irohahime had inherited her father's somewhat full and slightly curled hair, sans the very few silver strands that hinted at his age. Part of him wanted to ask jokingly if the rumors of Lord Masamune eating his own eye were true, but Genji thought better of it.  The silence was finally broken when Lord Masamune cleared his throat and a page approached the dais and spoke.

“Genji-roh, you have been found guilty of the crime of seduction against a member of the Date family, Lady Irohahime. This crime has been deemed punishable by death by beheading.  Do you have any final words before your sentence is carried out?”  The page finished and fell back in line.  Genji twisted his lips in thought when Lord Masamune spoke, his arms crossing over his blue and silver robes.  

“Speak carefully, dog.”  He growled and Genji was taken aback by the force behind his voice.  

“I have nothing to defend myself against.  I had my eye on the lady and no more self-control.”  He said simply.  “I care not that you take my head, but as a final request, if I'm allowed one,” Genji gestured to Hiromi, “spare my retainer.  He has done nothing against you in this matter.  I acted alone.”  

“You can consider your retainer banished to the life of a slave, that is all I will give you, however,” Lord Masamune stood and gestured to a door and it was opened to reveal Irohahime. Genji glanced at her from the corner of his eye, careful to not acknowledge her presence directly.  She moved to the main dais and took her place beside her father, her gaze settling on Genji.  He lowered his head, but eyed her through his lashes.  There was an exhaustion in her face that had her eyes just a bit puffy and dark, but the smile of triumph had her expression more alive than ever.  

“Lady Irohahime has put forth a proposal that I am daft to ignore.”  Lord Masamune finished as he sat again.  “Do you hail from the Hiko Mountains?  Speak truthfully or your retainer will pay the price for your lies.”  Hiromi yelped as a guard twisted her head, a knife at her throat and Genji felt his blood boil and pulse with anger.  He stared at Hiromi for a long time, her eyes wild with fear.  

“Yes.”  Genji said reluctantly.  A guard came from behind and shoved Genji's head to one side roughly.  Genji cursed softly as the man's thick fingers yanked his hair to the side, revealing the small brand behind his ear.  Lord Masamune studied the mark as Irohahime looked from Genji to her father.  

“Not rumors.”  She whispered to her father behind her sleeve.  The lord sighed irritably and waved off the guards, releasing Hiromi.  The other guard, however, kept his hold on Genji's hair, forcing him to meet the chipped ice that was Lord Masamune's eye, the cold resentment not terribly unfamiliar.  

“Since you have some value despite the scandal you have brought upon my family, you have the chance to choose life in this situation, however long that may or may not be.”  The older man rumbled.  Genji cocked an eyebrow in confusion as Lord Masamune continued.  “You will serve as a servant to the Date clan until you die.  You will see to it that my home remains safe and you will serve as my personal spy when I've need of you.  Aside from that, you will be given no title and no wives.  You are to remain in separate housing with your retainer until use is to be made of you. Otherwise, death.”  Hiromi bowed quickly, her forehead pressing against the wood floor.  

“Yes, my lord.  We will serve you, my lord.”  She said quickly and grasped at Genji's sleeve to drag him into a bow. He fought off her snatching fingers and shook off the guard holding his hair.  He met Lord Masamune's stormy expression with his own icy glare.

“I refuse.”  He said coldly.  Hiromi gasped and her arm dropped to the floor, covering her head.  Lord Masamune was visibly stunned and there was a look of disbelief in Irohahime's eyes as a collective noise of shock rose from the retainers present.  Lord Katakura shared Lord Masamune's stunned expression and Lord Shigezane could not help the incredulity in his voice as he spoke.

“Are you insane?  You're being given a chance to live after a crime that should see you dead on the spot and you have the audacity to say no?”  

Genji did not look at Lord Shigezane, but kept his eye trained on Lord Masamune's.  

“I will serve no lord until I have cut Akechi Mitsuhide's heart from his chest.”  His voice was laced with pure hate as the name fell off his tongue.  Something flashed in Lord Masamune's eyes before it was replaced by fury.  

“Take him away.  I should see his head at my feet by morning unless I change my mind.”  The lord thundered and Genji was dragged from the main hall.  His eye remained locked with Lord Masamune's before snapping to Irohahime's.  There was the smallest trace of hurt in her eyes, but there was also understanding.  

Hours later, Hiromi was crouched in the corner scratching at the stone floor while Genji was lost in meditation.  

“So what is your grand plan now that you've ruined our entire lives?”  Hiromi asked sarcastically.  Genji did not open his eye as he spoke.

“When the guards change shifts tonight, I'll need a second's distraction so I can choke him.”  He explained.  “We'll be on our way to a new town before you know it.”  She was not assuaged and glowered at him.

“I hope you realize that we've lost all of our belongings.  What are we going to do with no money?  No medicine?  No weapons?”  She hissed.  

“I'm sure you could survive the struggle,” Irohahime's voice answered and they both looked up to see her standing in front of the gate, “you seem to have managed well enough thus far.”  Hiromi turned away in frustration while Genji stood and moved to the gate.  

“My lady, it does not look good for you to visit your attacker.”  He said, the familiar playfulness back in is voice.  

“I think you know just how little I care being told by men what I can and cannot do.”  She responded curtly, but then her expression darkened.  “You could have accepted my father's offer.  It would have made things easier.”  Genji scoffed and shoved his arms through the bars to lean against them.

“And I think you know just how little I care for being tied down.”  He shot back.  “Now unless you are here to personally carry out my sentence, I've nothing more to say about your father's offer.”  She sighed and gave him a sharp look.

“I wonder if you would feel any different if I told you it was my idea you be kept as a member of the Date.”  She snapped back.  Genji stared at her incredulously.

“What?”

“You heard me.  It took days to prove your innocence to my father, to convince him you were more valuable alive than dead as a shinobi for our clan.”  She explained then grinned deviously as she continued.  “It helped that I am my father's most cherished daughter and gently threatened that a rumor might reach Lord Tokugawa's ear that I had willingly surrendered my virtue to a foreign-faced vagabond.  Such a scandal would surely tarnish the reputation of any man that might have me.”  Genji was stunned then frustrated with her.

“You would see me spend my days as a slave to your father then?  As what?  A tool when needed for murder?  Or would you see to it I become your concubus until you're married to the Tokugawa house?  While I do enjoy a good intrigue, I'll not be part of it when I have no choice in the matter.”  He seethed but she met his anger with her own.

“What would you have me do to free you?  If slavery is a choice that sees you alive, then I choose it selfishly.”  She protested.  Genji yanked his arms back into the prison and dug his fingers into the wood pensively.

“This is nothing.  I could escape from Hell itself if I pleased.”  He sneered and she scoffed in his face.  

“Oh, I'm so terribly sure, Master Genji.  That bravado will get you killed and then how will you exact your revenge on Lord Mitsuhide?”  She commented mockingly.  Genji froze, his expression skeptical.  

“Your meaning, my lady?”  His voice was low and she gave him a small, sad smile.

“Master Genji, there is nothing I want more in this world than to protect my family and those that I love.”  Her eyes were filled with longing and Genji felt the twist in his heart.  “I wish you would give up your desire for vengeance.  It's a foolish wish, because I know you will never be at peace until it is done.” Her arms slipped through the bars around his neck and Genji let her draw him close.  “I have only one request when you finish your journey.”  He felt the coolness of silk against his skin as she looped the thin red cord of her obi languidly around his neck.  She tied a small slipknot and pulled the cord so it tightened suddenly, her fist pushing into his throat as he gasped with surprise.  His eye widened with delighted fear, but he pushed aside the arousal when he felt some metallic and heavy against his chest.  

“Your belongings will remain in the servants quarters where you left them.  I suggest you be quick once the sun has set and the castle bedded down for the night.”  She warned.  Genji's gaze softened as he watched her.  

“Tell me your request, my lady.”  He said coolly and she fell silent.  A small pause, then she looked up at him.  

“Return and claim me when you have finished your mission.”  She breathed, her eyes filled with sorrow.  Genji's knuckles whitened as his grip tensed against the bars.  

“Do not wait for me, Irohahime.  Wait for a man that is truly worthy of you and all you will accomplish.”  His voice was hard, but his eye betrayed his own sorrow.  She gave him one last wavering smile before she spun away and hurried out of the dungeon. Genji's heart squeezed painfully, but he turned from the gate to hide the key among his robes.  He felt eyes on him and looked at Hiromi. She had fixed him with a strange look and he felt unnerved then smirked.

“It's not like you to be jealous.”  He teased.  

“I am not jealous!”  She snapped.  “Just... confused.  Humans are confusing!”  Genji sighed and looked at the gate.  

“Truer words have never been spoken.”  

The sun had not quite risen when Genji and Hiromi had escaped the dungeon and successfully recovered their belongings from the servants quarters.  They were well into the city by the time their escape would have been noticed and Hiromi eyed the crowd cautiously as they made their way out of Yonezawa.

“So where shall we go next?” Genji asked absently, pulling his hat over his eye to block the rising sun.  

“Lord Oda's stronghold is in Kyoto.  Since you're so intent on going there, why not take a moment out of your clearly busy schedule to tell me why.”  Hiromi grumbled.

“We're going to kill a man.” He said casually, the youth's eyes snapping to him.  She didn't question his motives, but nodded.  

“We'll need to lay low in case Lord Date decides to put a notice out for your head.”  Hiromi explained.  “We need to leave Oshu and move along the coast.  We might get lucky and catch a boat that can drop us off in Kagashima.”  

“So be it.” Genji replied with disinterest and Hiromi shook her head.

“A roof, a bed, hot food, I can't believe this...” The youth said woefully, then glared up at Genji furiously.  “Was it worth it?”  Drawn out of the haze of boredom, Genji's mind flooded with the memory of his and Irohahime's coupling and his face felt hot, until a near drunken grin tugged at his lips.

“Very, very much so.”  He purred.  Hiromi was perturbed by his expression then understood with revulsion and shoved Genji aside roughly.  

“You!  Ugh, you dirty old man!”  She shouted as Genji let out a chuckle, following his stomping apprentice back onto the dirt road that would begin the long journey to Kagashima.

@rolledafive

@bloody-hemostat

[hatefilledpoptarts]

Class 1-A should really learn to stop letting Bakugou baku-off

(when stuck for the most appropriate and to the point title just give up and use shitty puns, 10/10 it will pass....I think :P)

One of the things that caught my attention when reading the manga for the first time was Bakugou’s behavior after the sludge man incident: when dealing with complicated/conflicted emotions he doesn’t know how to process, he has a tendency to just back off from the problem altogether for an indefinite amount of time. 

(This is all going under because this really got out of hand, so if you wanna have a read please do when you have the time or are bored, I take both)

Warning: A tad disorganized so read at own risk

Going back as far as the 2nd ch.(Fun fact about revisiting a series; you notice details you tend to skim over the 1st round), I missed the actual amount of time that passed before the exam and am now realizing just how long Bakugou had not interacted with Izuku back then.

10 months is a shit long time not to bother with someone you’ve known since childhood through to middle school. While not exactly weird or unusual, since people tend to just move in another direction and drift apart in life, this isn’t really that type of scenario. Of course this was coming right off the sludge incident and, while not anywhere on Izuku’s own radar, was very much still on Bakugou’s mind back then:

Quite an impressive show of petty to ignore Izuku for nearly a year, more than likely with the expectation that he just has to wait until graduation for this issue to just go away.

My initial impression for this was more along the lines of an Izuku-dealing habit since history has shown this kid doesn’t really react well when Izuku actions are outside of Bakugou’s own expectations (not that weird since I’ve seen actual kids behave this way).

Its very clear Bakugou has major issues being vulnerable and Izuku is this sort of catalyst: always finding a way to tip him to his lowest degree. Really it all comes back to his pride that both uplifts and shuts him into himself.

Now getting to my main point (at the start of this):

I recalled back when class 1A was having their room showcase event, only two members were counted out of the whole 20 from this: Bakugou & Tsuyu.

Not an incredibly shocking development when they both have excuses for not joining; particularly when you know how little Bakugou cares about these types of activities and really wouldn’t just go along with whatever everyone else is doing.

Of course we learn for Tsuyu, this was actually a time of guilt and self-doubt for her in regards to her relationship with the group who went to rescue Bakugou. 

And considering Tsuyu’s disposition of being outspoken and self-possessed, it can be easy for the class to overlook any insecurities she may possess. We can also take from Tsuyu’s special chapter that she has difficulty relating to her peers.

Luckily for Tsuyu, she has a supportive friend who will pick up on these unusual moments and possible signs of vulnerabilities, lending a helping hand when she knows it’s what Tsuyu herself needs and wants.

And Tsuyu does what she thinks is best, which is to bring up what is bothering her to the associated members in hopes they will get past this by understanding what type of problem this was for her. And Ochako, she’ll make it happen because she cares and if that means gathering everyone needed to listen to Tsuyu and offering a comforting hand for extra support, then those are the kind of things she’ll do for her friend. (It makes me wonder how ochako got along in middle school, she’s really impressive in these kinds of socially tense situations)

Now it’s interesting to realize this was a really subtle way for Horikoshi to draw a parallel for these two in that by withdrawing and isolating themselves during this time, they were demonstrating their own self-reproaches for actions they considered giving into their own shortcomings. Both Bakugou and Tsuyu were self-imposing their own guilt because they didn’t know how to address it to themselves or toward the affected members. Judging from their background, it can be inferred both grew up having strong feelings of responsibility for themselves taking on any burdens they’ve had on their own (Bakugou due to pride; Tsuyu being the sibling oldest).

 For Bakugou, his own issues won’t advance or mend because he doesn’t allow for this type of support in his life or even permits for his defenses to be dropped in front of anyone. Bakugou is more or less accepted as being moody and to be left to himself when he has his episodes (digging that hole pretty deep aren’t ya kacchan?) and no one has ever questioned if he can be brought down. When you get down to it, no one has pushed him out of this comfort zone for a long time; he doesn’t know how to reach out to others because he thinks no one can match him or he needs to maintain his image.

I mean look at him that time, he’s only 4 or 5 and he’s trying to save face, making sure they know he’s tough, and Deku challenges that by actually being concerned, showing that Bakugou is indeed fallible. Most of his peers, or even general authority figures, can only take in his surface value, what he wants others to see or think of, without looking deeper. Those who surrounded him during his early adolescence let him do as he pleased and they genuinely thought that’s just how life worked. 

See how those classmates react with Bakugou’s usual arrogant behaviour: they’ll jeer their irritation but fall in awe when he makes a bold declaration because that’s whats to be expected from Bakugou, they wouldn’t actually push it further than ‘friendly’ banter with him because he can actually back what he says. No one really disagrees because they know Bakugou is extraordinary and by that rule he can do as he wishes because he is amazing; there is no one who will challenge it when they know better, if you lack aptitude follow the guy who does have it. From a adolescent’s point view, thats how ‘society’ works and that honestly is the worst mindset to get from anyone growing up. 

Izuku can attest that it’s no easy feat confronting him in any scenario:

With an ego swelled far too big for a kid to grow up on and a real talent that can’t be denied: no real surprises here how this came about. No one wanted or thought they could stand on even footing with Bakugou.

 Now Kirishima, bless his good kind soul, is a good bet for a friend who can temper Bakugou’s volatile attributes, and might be his equal, but he is in no way equipped to understand or clue into all the intricacies that goes into what makes up Bakugou. He gets past his hot-blooded side and sees someone who does have standards to back his actions (even if he’s a bit of a loose canon of destruction on several occasions).

The same can be said of Kaminari, who does show a decent level of understanding in Bakugou’s mentality and take his cues when the appropriate situation calls for it. Both parties have shown a deft grasp of Bakugou to get that while he may be an unpleasant guy, he is by no means lacking in morals or skill to back his superiority; just tougher to work with and needing tougher skin to take in all the foulness he presents.

While both are definitely a good match-up to withstand the trial that is Bakugou, they don’t actually stand in the sort of ‘equal’ position in a personal level as they do working together or in social interactions, they often come together to be like a hero unit that Bakugou finds acceptable to his standards and even socially they interact like average friends. They might even retain the same social levels as Bakugou’s old gang: they see and understand his abilities and yet they can’t quite comprehend the more human side of him that Bakugou prefers to keep under wraps.

By no means is this a fault in the two themselves or their friendship to Bakugou but I do understand why they can’t dig past a certain point in their relationship with him. Socially speaking, they still need time to build the kind of connection with him that allows vulnerabilities and even permitting it to be shared in some form or other.

 I’d heard the phrase ‘emotionally constipated’ describe Bakugou before and honestly, that is the most accurate definition for him that I’ve ever heard. He does show a heavy difficultly in expressing himself in calmer ways, more often than not, physically & figuratively exploding his problems out. I can understand the struggle in articulating what you mean and what you feel, conveying intentions can be a struggle and seem like a bother, if from your perspective there is no point; they won’t understand the things you do the same or in a similar way. Bakugou can only put what he feels into action and that can be tough to infer what those actions really mean and Bakugou himself leaves it up to the other party to figure it out, if they can’t then its because they couldn’t hack it (thank UA there are some who actually give a damn and call it when they see it).

I also personally identify with Bakugou’s characteristic of being socially discerning (although not to his level of disregard); I understand his lack of willingness to let others see a weaker side to them, it can be daunting when you don’t know how to express yourself in the most appropriate way or perceive those around as not worth the risk (I grew up with unpleasant people I didn’t care to be around if I could help it). Even emphasizing when he sizes others up, concluding what the other person is about and not wanting to push yourself in a situation you assume isn’t worth your time or think you have no place in. If you don’t think well of someone or find you’ve yet to have a deeper emotional connection with, when you’ve hit major emotional turmoil, it can be challenging when you’ve come to realize your own isolation that’s been built around yourself and the internal frustration you know you have no control or even a solid understanding of how to adjust to make things better. You can’t force yourself but you gotta build something along the way.

I even identify with the lack of care Bakugou shows by not remembering what his classmates quirks were (his whole body shakes when he’s brushing them off). To this day I cannot remember anyone I wasn’t on friendly term with in school (gets awkward when they know me). Of course its not really about being isolated as much as it is about knowing you don’t have to play a certain role to have be acceptable to others, Bakugou hits hard with who he is, letting you know what you’re in for, and you decide if its something your fine with or can match. UA is a good environment for individuals with their own ambitions instead of the usual mob gang he used to run with for most of his life.

Now though, Bakugou has gained a bit of perspective on his friends and classmates; he’s no longer willing to look down on his peers but recognize them for the reason they are in the same school. For the Baku-squad, its all a matter of process and learning as time goes on and I don’t think that is unreasonable for this little group. It’s just unfortunate that timing is not on Katsuki’s side after what had happened at Kamino. No one could have guessed just how this whole event ran deep for him.

 Ironically the only one who might even come close to catching onto to these more human attributes is the very person he’s pushed away from and who will keep from his crossfires in turn:

Izuku is always the one to point out the real intent of Katsuki’s actions, letting in on the kind of state Bakugou is in. Most prominently exhibited during the sports festival: when Bakugou declared his own victory, several students and audience member peg him as being arrogant when in truth Bakugou was demonstrating how serious he was taking the event. Bakugou needed to prove to himself he was worth his merit and Izuku was able to know what that meant when he made this declaration. If someone suggests a misjudgment in his character, Izuku will say it how it is; he has absolute confidence he understands what Bakugou is like more than anyone because he’s had all the time in the world to watch and experience both his best and worst side.

But truth be told, Izuku only understands Bakugou’s physical ticks or when he catches his brief moments vulnerability (i.e. sludge incident). He can’t fathom what Bakugou feels deep down because, while he may recognize those weaknesses he does posses, Izuku can only assume Bakugou is everything he projects: that he wouldn’t hold back from what he feels (anger, pride, confidence, etc.). That notion itself is a far cry from what Izuku truly recognizes about his childhood friend.

You can see Izuku has no doubts in his mind when Bakugou declares he’ll be number 1 back during the first battle training, Bakugou will still shines through even when he experiences a setback; nothing in Izuku’s mind can shake this belief about him. Then he sees for himself that Bakugou can actually break from pressure, he is not an unshakable force of will. The breaks in his thoughts are indication enough to know this is a slow and near unthinkable realization of one of the most steadfast figures in Izuku’s life.

It never crossed his mind just how shaken Bakugou was that first battle, Bakugou is doing all he can to keep himself together before Izuku came around to explain things (keeping in mind Izuku shouldn’t be tasked with detonating a bomb when it comes to Bakugou, even if he’s willing to be that outlet).

 The only other party I can think of that might understand Bakugou in the same level as Izuku almost does would be Ochako. Ochako has shown an incredible level of insight and intuition in how she views and understands her classmates, she’s usually the one to bring new understanding to a situation that may have been overlooked or provide input that is strikingly close to the heart of the matter: click here and you can see her calling out Bakugou on his main issue with Izuku. You can before with Tsuyu she caught on much quicker than anyone else, doing what needed to be done and saying what Tsuyu needed to hear when the time came.

But as it stands, she can only provide input, Bakugou is in no way a friend or someone in a position for her to feel concerned for in the same level she shows toward those she has built relations with. 

shame there aren’t many times where she shines in these skills, the scenes are sparse and far between. Ochako has sharp insight she rarely gets to show off.

For final emphasis: Ochako has no feelings of obligation or responsibility for Bakugou whatsoever, social or personal. She can only put her own goals and the people she does care about in the forefront. Bakugou, as of now, has no place for her to butt into his personal issues. Particularly since she doesn’t seem the type to over step her bounds, she’ll have feedback but that’s the extent she’ll impose herself in those regards. (I like to think they can build a foreseeable friendship in the future when Bakugou is ready to genuinely accept Izuku in his life)

 Once again we circle back to Izuku (like kacchan does :P), who will meddle if that means helping someone. The thing to keep in mind is Izuku does actually feel a sense of loyalty, an over-responsibility, toward Bakugou. Whether this is due to their time old friendship or because Izuku has a strange sense of duty to others, I’m not entirely certain of myself.

And this is proven time and again that if Bakugou believes Izuku has tricked him, he’ll be upfront about how it really is.

 If Bakugou finds himself caught in a fix even he can’t manage to get out of, Izuku will push himself further than anyone else to try and help him out of it, even at his own risk.

Izuku just can’t abandon him, it’s just not in his nature to.

As a sidenote during the sludge incident, Izuku actually managed to step up and outdo both of his inspirations in a single leap, doing what both parties had discouraged him from doing earlier that same day.

Look at him here during the heroes vs villains battle training test:

The thought of Bakugou misunderstanding him to that level just makes him feel like he is guilty of something. Perhaps for Izuku, its not the thought of him being put into doubt but the thought that, in a weird way, he feels as if he’s abandoning Bakugou. If he knows someone is distressed in any way Izuku has to alleviate it because thats his belief, he wants to help others, never wanting to leave them to feel helpless. Deception, even misunderstood deception, that causes more pain than help is something he can’t stand by and let continue. For Izuku, deceiving has no merit unless its for someone else’s sake, that’s why he’ll try to get across the real intent; if it bothers someone, he’ll want to pacify that feeling, a different risk he puts himself through.

 Oddly enough, Bakugou does let himself go in front of Izuku, including All Might who is always present to oversee the pair. Whether its due to a lack of control with his emotions during those instances or because, from his stand point, Izuku will figure it out anyway so he has to affirm himself in those cases when he does find himself feeling more wretched than he wants to be.

The best turn for them now is vocalizing what their central issue is and not holding back about it; they shouldn’t dance around the other anymore, its pointless to keep thinking they need to keep the other at a distance. They continue coming back to the same point every time, repeating the same thing over and over again (rescue, challenge, co-operate then back to rescue) until something has to give. It could only be Bakugou who could make this cycle end since he keeps perpetuating the same mistakes, denying or choosing to shut out Izuku. He can’t keep restricting himself because he’s afraid and in denial, it keeps him standing still unable to make progress, feeding his own fear of being left behind.

 And Izuku affirming that he will no longer back down and can take what Bakugou dishes out is great in knowing that he no longer feels it’s beyond him. Izuku can assert himself fully to be the kind of person who won’t withdraw into himself any longer when there’s adversity. And what better person to exhibit this growth than the one he holds in such high regard and once thought he wouldn’t be able face off in earnest back when he felt he had nothing to stand on, when he felt like he was a spectator only.

Its a slow build from his first time, when he’d still be shaking despite his bravado, to when he almost tries to escape him only to look back to stand up for his friend, let him know Ochako has that determination to do crazy plans like that. Now there’s no quivering or hesitance, he’ll say what he wants and try his damnedest to back it.

He knows Bakugou is great and he wants to stand on that same field as him because, to Izuku most of all, it’s something worth matching, even going so far as surpassing. No one can bring down Bakugou and Izuku knows it’s the place he wants to go all out for, a place where he won’t falter no matter the challenge; a place you can stand your ground and do what needs to be done no matter the difficulty. For Izuku, it means standing firmer than anyone and never backing down or lose confidance in themselves when no one else believe he can do anything; ideals that can’t be shaken, knowing nothing or no one can make him lose his ground. Katsuki isn’t being viewed as only another bully or shitty person in Deku’s life, he’s an aspiration he wants to be himself. Izuku might just be as enamored with Katsuki’s talent as he himself is.

 Bakugou’s own Achilles heel was his belief that there was only single individual who can stand as the best. He’d built himself up only to see it crumble time and again when there was no top but a field with a group of many who can do just as well as him, and if he wants admit it to himself, might be even more impressive. 

Of course this newfound knowledge is a complete whiplash for him at first, he doesn’t know how to adjust to the thought or the change but does what he knows best; he’ll take on this challenge headstrong first, struggling to prove without a doubt where his worth is: being exceptional.These are all individuals taking on their own challenges and, for the most part, they have what he has, they all are going through what he’s going through and he knows he can’t let up. That is way too much pressure for a kid his age to put on himself.

Every time he’s faced with his own weakness, he crumbles bit-by-bit inside. His old amour won’t hold up in this new environment and the adversities he faces. Everything so far he’s tried has been unsatisfying and puts a bad taste in his mouth, he doesn’t know how to meet his goals.

Now he’s stuck in his own head trying to come to terms with his expectations and beliefs no longer being guaranteed. All Might was one of the surest and truest forces in Bakugou’s life and now there’s the knowledge that nothing truly is guaranteed. The kid who couldn’t do anything great is learning and growing to be great, be someone who could overtake him. Your indestructible hero can fall and is human. And his own flaws made All Might human, nothing can change this for him. 

Except Katsuki can change because he can see now there’s no longer a clear cut straight line, its all a matter of how to go forward past the one path he chose. Katsuki can move forward, along with Izuku and All Might now as they truly are, two kids who want to be top heroes and are still learning what that means, along with the one who wants to raise them to be their very best. Bakugou still needs time to be someone who can accept those flaws and shortcomings but I hope he can finally learn to lean on others more and not take it all on himself.(work with your classmates more, kacchan; your gonna be stuck with Todoroki eventually so start there)

By the end of this whole Bakugou redemption journey (whenever that will be), I really hope it will come full circle with that sludge man incident when Katsuki is ready to start the real mend, when he knows and feels that regret for those times he mistreated Izuku; when both are ready to take a step forward together with the other. After all, they are still kids on the road to self-actualization. Katsuki isn’t a bad kid but he still needs time and growth.

I mean they still bring up that event, it still bothers Katsuki, so it is a pretty pivotal subject waiting to be properly addressed between the two in the future:

For now, I don’t think we are quite there but every little step is progress and high school won’t be over for quite some time, they’ve got a fair share of time to grow (thought even that could be tossed out the window sooner rather than later).

That blood there is pretty ominous now that I think about it and was probably foreshadowing All Might’s draining power being the a catalyst for this recent development between the two.

Added Bonus for those who got through this schlep:

Yup, there’s a kid out there who can stretch his own body parts（゜◇゜）

[miraculouspaon]

Where Have All The Heroes Gone And Where Are All The Gods?

Chapter Thirty: Emma

AO3

“Mermaids?” Emma asked.

“Not as far as I know,” her uncle replied.

“Dragons?”

“Never seen one personally, but yes.”

“Zombies?”

“Not any kind you need to worry about.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There are certain branches of magic, mostly originating from the Caribbean, that can pull off reanimating dead corpses rather elegantly. But you're not going to die from a bite, or turn into one yourself. Fighting a zombie is like fighting a sick, disoriented person whose head and limbs are over-inclined to drop off. You're more likely to get seriously hurt fighting a house cat.” Not looking up, Jonathan handed Emma the sheet of paper he'd been writing on. “Check that.” He began working on a fresh sheet as Emma started plugging numbers into her calculator.

“Werewolves?”

“Nope.”

“Are they impossible, or have you just never heard of them?”

“I'd never say anything was impossible, after everything I've seen,” Jonathan said, “but logistically it’d be a nightmare.” He wrote a few more numbers down, then paused. “Well…” he said slowly, “shapeshifting spells are a thing, sure. I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to link one to the phases of the moon. It'd be very patchwork, but in theory… no, but making it contagious wouldn't work, you'd need an external power source every time a new person was cursed, it would count as a re-casting whenever a new person was bitten. Being able to pass it on indefinitely would violate the second law of thermodynamics.” He went back to working, then stopped again a minute later. “I mean, I guess it could work if each new werewolf was powering the transfer with their own energy, but you'd have to limit the pool of werewolves to people who generate enough magical energy of their own to-”

“Jonathan, have you seen-oh, there you are, Emma,” Emma’s grandmother said, poking her head in. “What are you doing in here?”

“Checking math,” Emma said. “And Uncle Jonathan’s teaching me how to make werewolves.”

Adele’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at her brother. “You're what?”

“I am not… okay, maybe I was a little,” Jonathan admitted. “Emma was grilling me on what is and isn't real, instead of double-checking my math like she said she would.”

“I can do both. Is that a one or a seven?”

Jonathan looked at where Emma was pointing. “Seven.” He looked back at Adele. “Look, now that I actually have an account of someone casting something like the Order’s spells, I can figure out how these parameters correspond to real-world locations. But backing out the latitude and longitude ranges is a little involved, so I'd feel more comfortable with a second set of eyes checking my work, okay? Actually I wouldn't say no to a third set, either, if you want a go.”

Adele shuddered. “Pass.”

“It's not that hard, Grandma, we’re just plugging these four-dimensional vectors into a couple of multivariate polynomials and then converting from polar to Cartesian-”

“Your brother needs you,” Adele interrupted. She glanced at the papers on Jonathan’s desk and made a face. “And I need to be as far away from whatever you're doing as possible, before I get roped into it.”

~~~

“What's up?” Emma asked, entering the study her brother had taken over. Louis and Dani looked up from the couch as Emma took three steps into the room before stopping. “What are you doing with Mom’s Miraculous?”

“Wayzz has been teaching me this advanced technique,” Louis explained. “Actually, it’s… it’s really advanced. Guardians don’t usually even attempt it until they’ve been doing trance states for a few years. But we thought it might be helpful, and we don’t have a few years. So I wanted to test myself, make sure it’s accurate, and I figured you’d be good for that. Don’t you think?”

Emma sat down across from her siblings and looked at the earrings lying on the small coffee table in front of her. “You haven’t said what it is yet,” she pointed out, and Louis’ face turned slightly pink.

“Right. Sorry,” he said. “I’m just… nervous. Um. It’s basically a way to see anything the Miraculous has borne witness to while active.”

Emma’s jaw dropped slightly. “Anything?” she asked. “You could… you could spy on any moment in Mom’s life since she was, what, our age? Since she got those?”

“Up through last August, anyway,” Louis muttered. “But yes, that’s the idea. But because I’m not experienced with trance states yet, there’s a risk that I just wind up imagining what I expect to see. Since you know way more about Ladybug history than I do, I thought you could give me a test. Ask me something I don’t know, some question about… I don’t know, an old akuma attack or something like that, from before we were born. And I’ll try to see what happened. If I get it right I’ll know we can trust anything else I see, too.” He paused. “Like the night Mom and Dad got taken.”

Emma nodded silently, then thought for a few minutes. “Do you… do you know how they defeated the Dark Cupid akuma?” Louis shook his head, then reached forward and gently scooped up the Ladybug Miraculous. He folded his legs under himself, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Five minutes later, Emma looked at Dani. “Did Louis say how long-”

“Shhhhhh,” Louis interrupted, his eyes still closed.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Stop. Talking.” Dani and Emma exchanged an eyeroll, then did their best to wait patiently. They were both starting to nod off when Louis opened his eyes about half an hour later.

“Did it work?” Emma asked.

“First of all,” Louis said, “gross, you did that on purpose.”

“She did what on purpose?” Dani asked.

“Picked an incident where Mom and Dad kissed,” Louis told Dani, who snorted.

Emma grinned. “Traumatized?” she asked.

“I’m more traumatized from knowing exactly how good Dad looks in black lipstick. Anyway. The akuma was in a brooch, Dad tossed it to Mom, Mom stepped on it and broke it, then cleansed the akuma inside. Is that right?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Are you going to look at when they got taken now?”

Louis glanced down at the earrings resting in his upturned palm. “Um… no, I think you’d better give me a few more tests first, just in case. I want to be absolutely sure we can trust this technique.”

Dani reached for Louis’ free hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “You’re doing really well,” she said, and Emma wondered how much insecurity Louis was hiding. She wondered if Dani was just always going to be closer now to the two of them than Emma and Louis were to each other. Dani glanced up at her, concerned, and Emma mentally shook her thoughts off.

“Another test sounds fun,” Emma said. “How much do you know about the Reflekta incident? If you liked seeing what Dad looks like in black lipstick, you’ll love seeing him in heels.”

~~~

Halfway through breakfast the next morning, Dani suddenly screamed. Emma jumped in her seat, startled, then got up and rushed to her sister’s side. Dani was grabbing her head now, still making incoherent noises, breathing heavily, and tears were streaming down her face.

“Louis. Louis, what’s wrong with her, what is it?” Emma asked, trying to suppress her rising panic.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, his eyes wide with horror. “I can’t see any spells on her.”

“What? Louis, this has to be magic, it-”

“Get your sister out of the city,” Emma’s grandfather interrupted. Startled, Emma looked over at the other side of the table. Her grandparents’ faces were both ashen, her grandmother looked sick, and her grandfather had a decisive look on his face.

“Do you know what-”

“Now, Emma,” her grandfather snapped. Nodding, Emma transformed as quickly as she could. A second later, she’d grabbed her sister’s shoulder and whisked them both to a bedroom of their grandmother’s country manor.

“Are… are you okay?” Emma asked. Dani straightened slowly, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing her hand under her eyes, wiping tears away. “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

“What the hell just happened?”

“I have no idea. It was just… sudden, excruciating pain. I’ve never felt anything like it.” She looked around. “What are we doing here?”

“Grandfather told me to get you out of the city. I guess he knows what’s going on somehow.”

“Oh.” Dani sat down on the bed. “I guess you’d better get back there and find out what it is, then.”

“Right.” Emma hesitated. “Are… are you going to be okay here alone?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I, uh, think I’ll lie down a bit, actually. Call me and let me know what’s up, okay?”

“Sure.” Emma squeezed her sister’s shoulder before teleporting back to the kitchen in Paris. Her grandmother still looked slightly ill, holding her head in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, Louis and Gabriel on either side of her. All three looked up as Emma reappeared.

“How’s your sister?” Adele asked immediately.

“Fine now, she said,” Emma told them. “What’s going on?” Before Adele could answer, Uncle Jonathan walked into the kitchen.

“Where do you guys keep the aspirin?” he asked. “I’ve got this killer migraine all of a sudden, and-”

“Aspirin won’t help,” Adele told him, sounding miserable. “There’s tea, though, or coffee.”

Jonathan frowned. “Why won’t aspirin help?” He looked at the four of them and narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?” Adele sighed.

“Do you remember that artifact the Louvre had on loan from the British Museum in ‘97?” she asked him. “It was… Māori, right?” she asked, looking at Gabriel. He nodded.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “That can’t be it,” he said. “Sure, my head hurts, but I’m not trying to claw my eyes out of my face like you practically were back then.”

“We’re both much weaker empaths than I was back then,” she said. “Dani, on the other hand, well. Emma got her out of the city right away, but before that… trust me, that’s what this is.”

“What are you talking about?” Emma asked. “I told Dani I’d find out what was going on and tell her as soon as I could. Is she going to be okay?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Dani,” Adele reassured her granddaughter. “This is something we’ve seen before. Back a few centuries ago, there was this artifact in New Zealand, the people of some small island had used it to identify psychics, to choose their next… shaman? Is that the right word? I can’t remember. Anyway, the thing eventually wound up on display in London, where it sat harmlessly until they loaned it to the Louvre about a year and a half into our superhero career. The curator decided it would be fun to activate, and wouldn’t you know it, whatever it is that it does to identify psychics does not agree with empaths.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “Well… okay, that’s good, you’ve dealt with it before, you know how to defeat it.”

“Defeat it?” Jonathan asked, leaning against the doorway. “We politely asked them to turn it off. They spent like a week publicly apologizing for the trouble. Something tells me that the people who turned it on this time aren’t going to be quite as accommodating.”

Emma blinked. “Wow,” she said lightly, “I cannot imagine how relaxing it must have been to be a superhero in a city run by people who actually want to help you, instead of people who are actively trying to kill you.”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed. “Sounds like a vacation or something.”

Adele sighed. “Yes, I’m certainly starting to appreciate how easy Gabriel and I had it back then.” She looked at her husband. “What are we going to do?” she asked. “It could be anywhere in the city, and-”

“It’s gotta be back in the Louvre,” Jonathan interrupted. “The pyramid was amplifying its signal. If it were anywhere else it would only have a radius of a couple of blocks.”

“Emma and I can check it out,” Louis said. “I bet if I get close enough I’ll be able to see whatever magic field it’s generating. And then once we know exactly where it is, Emma can get us in and we’ll shut it off and take it so they can’t turn it back on.”

“They must have some defenses around it,” Emma said. “But I guess step one is scoping it out either way.”

Adele nodded, then sighed. “This isn’t good,” she muttered. She slumped down, burying her head in her crossed arms on the table.

“It’ll be fine, Grandma,” Louis said. “I know we usually need Dani to take care of teleportation blocks, but I think Emma and I can handle-”

“This is the tip of an iceberg,” his grandfather interrupted, as he put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Perhaps dealing with this will not be difficult, but it signals more unseen problems to come. The Order is finally doing its homework. They’re finally doing actual research, instead of just attacking you children with their own brand of magic. They’ve figured out that your powers and the powers of Butterfly and Paon are one and the same.” He looked over at Jonathan. “Can you think of anything else the Order might have learned from researching that time? Any other weaknesses the children might now have?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not off the top of my head. That was one of the few incidents that actually made it into the paper accurately back then. But… we should go through everything, just to make sure.” He crossed to the table, grabbed an unused mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Now, I guess, since I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get any real work done until you kids take care of this headache.” He sat down across from Adele.

Emma turned to Louis. “Guess we’d better get going, then.” Nodding, Louis got up and joined her.

“That first supernatural incident, with the amulet, that one messed with your powers,” Jonathan said to Gabriel, as Emma and Louis started to leave. “Did that part ever make it into the papers?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. There were no witnesses, and we managed to keep the official account…” Emma didn’t hear the rest. It was tempting to linger, to listen to the three of them go through the history none of them ever seemed to want to discuss with the triplets, but Emma and Louis had a job to do.

~~~

The walk to the Louvre was long, but pleasant. The route lay mainly along the Seine, and Emma and Louis took it mostly in silence.

“Did you get a look at Mom and Dad disappearing?” Emma asked, after about twenty minutes of walking.

“Yeah,” Louis said. “I’m gonna look again, though. It cuts out the second they actually disappear, when their Miraculouses go dormant. And it happens so fast, it’s over in a second. It’s hard to get a good look.”

“So you didn’t get anything out of it yet?”

“I… I think they were pulled south. Or maybe southwest.” He sighed. “I know that's not exactly specific enough to be helpful-”

“Sure it is,” Emma said. “Uncle Jonathan’s working on narrowing down a range of possible locations. Knowing they’re south of Paris could cut the possible area in half, maybe more. Every piece of information helps.”

“Sure,” Louis said. He said nothing more, and Emma tried to think of something else to fill the silence.

“Do you ever think about…” Emma started, then trailed off.

“Think about?” Louis asked.

“Well… Grandma and Grandfather, at the start. Back in the nineties. I'm sure it must have seemed crazy at the time but overall they had a pretty easy beginning, right? They were adults, they didn't have any serious villains. Then Mom and Dad, they had it way harder. They were teenagers, they had to fight like three magical villains a week. But compared to us… we’re even younger than they were, our powers aren't as strong, and we're fighting an entire occupation run by people that, unlike Hawkmoth, are actively trying to kill us. They had all of Paris behind them, and we… I mean, we do in spirit I guess, but seeing as how helping us is a crime punishable by death there aren’t a ton of people lining up to do it. Anyway, it all just makes me wonder…”

“What?”

“How fucked are our kids?”

Louis’ had a split second of shock, of wondering if he’d heard his sister correctly, and then he burst out laughing. Emma grinned a moment later. “I’m serious!” she said, laughing a little herself. “If you look at how things have been escalating from generation to generation, I mean, jeez, our kids are just going to be straight-up fixing the apocalypse at thirteen, aren’t they?”

~~~

“Can you see it? The field?” Emma asked in a near whisper as they entered the pyramid that served as entrance to the Louvre.

Louis nodded, looking around. “Yeah, it's way more concentrated here.” His gaze wandered up, to the apex, and then down. “It’s a few floors down, right under the point. We can come back tonight, after closing, when everyone else is gone.”

“What about defenses?”

“The usual. Anti-teleportation field. I think I can rig something up to deal with it.”

“That’s it?”

Louis shrugged. “They’ve never seen us take one down without a Champion. I guess they think that’s enough.” Emma frowned. “What?”

“It’s just… after this they’ll know more about what we can do. They’ll know we can handle this kind of thing without Dani.” Emma bit her lip. “Every time the Order learns more about our abilities, it’s another advantage lost. We both remember what happened when they figured out my invisibility.”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed. “But I don’t think we have a choice here, Emma.”

“I know,” Emma sighed. “I just don’t know how many more advantages we have left to lose.”