#slbp drabble

[yoolee]

Themes |  {SLBP modern au}

A/N - ssh, sssssh nothing to see here, move along, move along, but thank you @han-pan for getting me to open the app for the first time in weeks to consume my FAVORITE KIND OF STORY - aka, Kai Family Shenanigans.

Every year, Takeda Corp hosted a grand costume party.

There wasn’t any particular reason for this to happen - it was just the sort of thing one did when one was fabulously wealthy, overwhelmingly fond of their employees, and inclined to any sort of excuse to ingest copious amounts of alcohol and delectable food.

(Popular rumor was that one of Shingen’s lovers had instigated the tradition when she had wistfully recollected that TV had lied to her, what with nearly every show featuring the dazzling and wealthy having a mysterious masquerade at least once a season and thereby setting up certain expectations that had been grossly undermet by reality. Shingen, being Shingen, had swooped in to rectify this, but then insisted her face was far too lovely to be covered with a mask, and so it was costumes instead. Of course, still being Shingen, he had also insisted that other parts of her were far too lovely to be covered, and both Shingen and mistress were, notably, absent for the first few hours of the affair.)

(“Affair” being, one must acknowledge, the operative word.)

All of this was, mind you, conjecture and theory, and though Shingen’s mistresses had changed, the tradition had remained. What had also remained the same, naturally, was how particularly serious Sanada Genjirou Yukimura was regarding his costume selection.

It had to be grand, and put-together, and thematic, and appropriate - after all, he was representing Takeda Corp (and in particular, the Sanada stake in it), and if Shingen was going through such trouble to make such a festive event, it was only fair he put in equal effort to attending it. (Technically, mind you, it was Shingen’s long-suffering and ever-loyal secretary, Kansuke, putting in most of the work, but Kansuke enjoyed such things, insomuch as he enjoyed anything, and though he had worn the same exact costume every year the tradition had been running, no one had yet to notice or comment.)

The challenge, of course, was in getting Saizo to play along.

His wife did, and little Sasuke too. But Saizo--Saizo--was another story. Yukimura had wheedled, and bargained, and begged, and sensing the (exasperatingly) tenacious nature of husband, wife, and small but stubborn student, Saizo had at last agreed to go along with whatever theme they selected, provided he could choose, compile, and wear a costume of his own choosing.

It was not, Yukimura quickly found out, the victory he had believed it to be.

That first year, his wife had been a beautiful blossom Yukimura a bright, round peach, and Sasuke a fuzzy and--though he would protest the description--adorable caterpillar.

Saizo, in a black shirt and pants, had proclaimed himself a branch.

Yukimura had been certain the next year that his recalcitrant bestie would join in, with Yukimura and his missus as Orihime and Hikoboshi (and Sasuke as one of his cows) but Saizo had slipped quietly alongside them, in a black shirt and pants, claiming to be the Milky Way - or  at least, how it appeared without a telescope, anyway. 

(The worst part of that year, Yukimura still sulked, was that Saizo had spent the entire night getting between him and Yukimura’s own beautiful bride, claiming only to be sticking with their theme).

But the next year! 

Alice in Wonderland! 

Surely there was no possible way for Saizo to avoid something fun and colorful and bright and odd, not with Yukimura and his cheeks painted with a card soldier’s hearts, his sweetheart with the Dormouse’s round, adorable ears atop her head, and Sasuke cackling as his overlarge hat slipped down over his eyes for the umpteenth time of the night.

And then, of course, Saizo has appeared, in a black shirt and pants, as the hole through which Alice had fallen.  

But this year, Yukimura vowed. This year would be different. He would get Saizo in a costume - a real one - if he had to duel the man himself. 

(Which technically, he had done a number of a times before, with varying results, but frankly getting Saizo to agree to it had about the same success rate as costuming did).

The three of them sat, huddled together with hushed voices. His darling wife spoke first, small wrinkle in her brow as she focused, distracting Yukimura temporarily with how much he loved it, that little wrinkle, which naturally extrapolated into how much he loved her, the woman who bore the wrinkle with grace and determination.

“Cinderella, maybe?��� She offered. “Yukimura could be the prince, and oh, Sasuke you could be a mouse!”

Sasuke gave her a look of pure disdain, well beyond his tender years, and wrinkled his nose, “Ugh, no way! At least lemme be the prince’s bodyguard!” He leaned in, urgent and solemn, “I won’t let anyone flirt with Yukimura this year.” He straightened, doing his best tough-guy impression (an impression, all would agree, that looked quite a bit like his older and larger counterpart, or at least until he opened his mouth,) “Begone, thots!”

“Sasuke!” The wrinkle disappeared as her expression yanked into shocked dismay, “Where on Earth did you--nevermind. Just. Don’t, don’t say that. It’s not nice.”

Their group was garnering quite a bit of attention in the quiet little cafe, and the outburst only served to draw more eyes. Sasuke noticed a pair of them linger a little too long on his favorite dunderhead and raised a skeptical but patient eyebrow until they diverted to himself. Once captured, he frowned and made a shooing motion with his hand where neither of the oblivious couple could see. Begone, thot!

Yukimura, looking focused and faraway, shook his head, “It won’t work, anyway. He’d only use it as an excuse to leave at midnight.”

Mumbled sighs and assent followed.

Sasuke muttered under his breath, “No need for a costume in that theme, anyway. He basically already IS your fairy godmother.” Not catching the mumble, they blinked, “What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Nothin’.” Sasuke dropped his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, “What about pirates?”

See more from my drabble list

[saizoswifey]

Illumination

{KansukexReader}

~Fluff!!! Just a random quick drabble for my favorite purple plum Kansuke. Just over 1k words. Dedicated a bit to @wingcinna lol here have this tiny bandage for your heart--because Kansuke Bliss Canon!! 

     It’s the way he looks. That calm manner of speech and the words—how they roll ever so slowly, toppling over each other and wafting towards you on the wind like a white, feathery plume. Bursting against your skin and tickling your cheeks until they pull themselves into a warm smile. And you think this all must be some sort of elaborate ruse. The fog will lift, surely. The clouds will dissipate and make way to rays of brilliant light, shining to reveal something previously hidden in the shadows, some intricate strings being pulled. For this man couldn’t possibly be this real. This kind. 

     “You have something in your hair,” Kansuke says. His deft fingers pluck at the strands just above your crown, pulling back to reveal what must have been a fallen leaf from the trees above.

     “Thank you,” you smile in embarrassment, wondering just how long it must have been there. His face softens even further upon seeing your nervous blush. “Do you think we’ve gathered enough?”

     He nodded. “Is it heavy?” His eyes fell to the basket, filled almost to the brim with vibrant green flora, freshly collected.

     Before you could respond he was relieving it from your grasp, causing a delightful fond ache to ripple through your chest. It was hard to know exactly what you meant to him. If you meant anything at all, really. But those thoughts were best left for your sleepless nights. When your mind and heart raced with flashes of him and you tossed fitfully in your bedclothes with anxious, lovesick wonder. For now, you were content with these quiet moments of closeness. And watching the beautiful summer light break against his olive skin. And the way the breeze lifted and tousled his hair enough to reveal his handsome face in full.

     You hadn’t even realized your feet slowed to an almost full stop until Kansuke called back to you, calmly as ever.

     “You like them?”

     A patch of Morning Glories. Bursting in brilliant violets. “Oh, yes,” you shake your head with your reply, unable to tell him the reason why. Which is that, with their color, they remind you very much of him. And you swear you see him smile briefly. 

     Usually, you would help him as best you could with sorting and grinding the collected herbs. But it’s close to dinner and there’s prep to be done. And every step you take back towards the castle is like a heavy stone piled onto your heart.

     “Thank you for your help.”

     It’s all he says before you part ways, and you can’t help but feel a bit saddened by the fact that your time together has drawn to a close. You gnaw at your bottom lip just a bit, as if you’ll go chasing after him—say something you know you shouldn’t, if you don’t actively bite it back. You watch him disappear down the hall before finally heading to the kitchen.

     Rice and tea and steam from simmering vegetables. Serving trays and empty bowls. With each stir and scoop, the sun sinks closer to the horizon. And when the final pot has been cleaned and put away you find yourself alone, kneading. You’ll bring him dessert. That’s it. There’s determination and excitement swooping through you like a bird in the early morning sky, knowing that each small ball rolled between your hands is bringing you one step closer to seeing him once more. Even if the moment is fleeting.

     His room seems much farther away than usual. Or perhaps it’s your nerves slowing your steps. You balance the tray in hand, careful not to spill a drop of the hot tea. A cup you’ve brewed several times over in order to ensure it was just perfect. You fill your lungs with air, and courage, poised to announce yourself when a familiar voice from behind cuts you off.

     “Looking for Kansuke?”

     You turn to find Saizo, mouth already half full from a manju he’s plucked straight from your tray.

     “Ah-“ you’re about to scold him for taking things that don’t belong to him, but all you can manage is a mortified, “yes.”

     “Who?” Yukimura asks from his side, head tilting just slightly in a look of befuddlement.

     “Not here,” Saizo chews, completely ignoring Yukimura’s question as if he hadn’t heard him say anything at all. “Don’t worry, little lady, he’ll be back in a few days.” Saizo gives a knowing smirk that has you feeling all fumbling and foolish and red in the cheeks.

     “Well, in that case-“

     “Don’t mind if I do,” Saizo anticipates what you’re about to say, plucking the tray from your hands and popping yet another manju into his mouth.

     “Hey! Don’t eat them all, yourself!”

     “But they’re mine,” you hear Saizo reply curtly after you turn your back on them.

     And as you leave to make your way to your room, you listen as their bickering voices fade with your smile.

     It was a gamble anyway, you try to tell yourself. But there’s no shaking this crestfallen shadow that’s washed over you, weighing you down and causing your feet to drag as if you’ve been trekking up a hillside through thickly caked mud. You know what’s to come when you resign yourself to your room, but even so, you slide open the shoji and make your way inside.

     However, this evening, much to your surprise you spot the futon already rolled out and prepared. This in itself is a wonder. But it’s what’s on top that has your heart stuttering and leaping up to your throat. There, as splendid as if you had been presented with precious gems sparkling their perfection at your feet, lay a modest bouquet of those violet Morning Glories. Vibrant as ever against the stark white of the bedclothes. But in truth, that’s not exactly why these seem particularly beautiful. For you know who they’re from. 

     Their scent lifts your spirits to the clouds, taking your love and hope and happiness with it. Kansuke. A flash of heat fills your face. There was a glimmer of an answer. Peace of mind. Tonight would be the first night in a while you’ve fallen asleep so quickly. A smile radiating, a pleasant blush on your cheeks and your eyes tightly shut, eager to bring on the next days.

[amigoingbananas]

Happier (Inuchiyo)

Word count: 200 words

He had always found her beautiful.

But today, she was absolutely breathtaking.

Her hair fell perfectly on her shoulders, her skin flawless and smooth, her lips painted with just enough rouge to compliment her smile, and her eyes just seemed to radiate the joy she felt for this moment. 

Inuchiyo could not believe this woman was about to become his wife. Never in his wildest dreams did he think this day would come. But it did, and everything was perfect. He couldn’t be happier. 

Within the audience, a teary-eyed Katsuie could not help himself. “My boy, my boy! He’s finally getting married! Oh, how time flies!” he exclaimed. “Sssh, you’ll ruin the moment!” Hideyoshi nudged the old man with his elbow. 

After Katsuie had quieted down, Hideyoshi heard a faint sniffling beside him. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, offering a kerchief. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it immediately as she gathered her thoughts. 

She had known Inuchiyo for almost her entire life, and loved him with all her heart. And today, she will have to learn to accept that he was no longer hers. Because deep in her heart, she knew. 

She knew he was happier. ▪

A/N: Hnnnng okay this was a thousand times better in my head. If anyone wishes to make a full-blown fanfic out of this idea, please feel free to do so!!! I want Inuchiyo to be happy, even if that happiness doesn’t include MC.

EDIT: I haven’t read Inuchiyo’s MS yet, so I didn’t really have anyone in mind for the wife. It just breaks my heart seeing his unrequited love for MC in almost every other route/story. ; u ; So I figured, you know what, maybe you deserve to be happy with someone other than MC ha haaa. X’D

[yonezawacastle]

An Incident, In Brief

Yoshihime is the last person Masamune wants to see right now.

His mother has never been a warmly welcomed guest, but as he and Kojuro clean and dress the wounds his wife's captors had given her -- the bitter fruit of yet another regional squabble -- Masamune has never been more certain that she has arrived only to nourish herself on suffering.

"You purport to protect all of Oshu. Yet it seems," Yoshihime hisses, her face contorted with disgust, "that you cannot even protect your own wife. Some lord you are. Some husband."

Masamune says nothing in reply, only traces the contours of his wife's bruised face with trembling fingers. Pretends the sudden twitch of his jaw won't give him away as her words sink in.

Behind his mother, Kojirou sits watery-eyed, his mouth opening and closing with the desire to say something, anything, to find some antidote to his mother's cruelty.

The boy comes up empty. Yoshihime is nothing if not an experienced poisoner.

[i-drabble-in-voltage]

First Blush: A SLBP Toramatsu fanfic

~teaser~

The faint echo of footsteps broke the otherwise tranquil morning's reverie as a lone figure made his way through the deserted corridor. The scent of rain wafted in the air even as the humidity clung to Toramtasu's skin; a promise on the horizon in the form of angry clouds obscuring the sun's early morning rays. As his feet carried him toward a familiar destination, the raven haired man's ears caught the gentle hum of a tune he'd long forgotten he'd even known, its melody seemingly reversing time as his pace slowed, halting altogether as Toramatsu took in the bewitching scene before him. There, in the kitchen, stood the girl who'd enchanted more hearts than she'd ever come to know. Armed with little more than her culinary skills and a thirst to feed those around her, the young woman's ability to ensnare even the likes of the brutish men of the Tokugawa, save for Ieyasu himself, was a wondrous sight to behold. He watched as delicate hands moved in practiced flux, each movement purposeful, deliberate in her work. She exerted no unnecessary energy as she put together what Toramatsu knew to be Lord Ieyasu's breakfast. The realization that the scrupulousness with which the young cook arranged each dish would be wasted on the likes of Ieyasu himself brought a vile grimace to the man's features as he pictured the Lord dismissing her efforts once more with nothing more than a callous remark to her character as was his norm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed the teaser for my upcoming SLBP fanfic! Part one will be up soon. Toramatsu is finally getting some love! See you soon!

[uxoremmikael]

The one thing that's most important

I never asked for you, but you came anyway, bearing your gift I did not want.  You slapped me just to get your message across.  The pain of it stung but you knew I needed it.  I hated you for opening up my heart and soul to what I closed it from in the first place when you came barging in unannounced. You are truly unremarkable but your nature warrants a second look.  I loathed you because you made me delve deeper into you making me want to know more of you. Yes! You! You irksome kitchen wench.  

I detested you for pushing me out of what I grew up believing in.  You forced my eyes to see what I had been missing the whole time.  I disliked you when all of my ruthless remarks and trying demands didn’t discourage you and still you act upon the goodness of your character and of your upbringing.  I despised you for making me realize how bitter my views were, of the world and of people yet you continue to affirm that honesty and loyalty is not forced or bought but given unhampered at no cost. That it is best to give everything and be left with nothing then later on regretting not giving in at all. Yes! You! You dung beetle of no account.

I was offended by you when I was driven to admit to myself that I was undeserving of you, but I wanted you all to myself anyway, and the thought of you being with any other man leaves me blind with fury.  The one thing you wished from me was the chance.  The chance to show me why and how.  And now I am giving you that. Now take responsibility you dung beetle of a kitchen wench!

Mind you I have not completely forgotten myself just yet. All of these thoughts are just in my head as I stare at you like a lovesick fool that I am while you’re sitting there grinding herbs. Probably, you imagine it is me under the pestle you use.

I’m hopeless, aren’t I? But, since its you, I’ll just let the changes speak for me. Hoping you won’t let go and keep holding on to me as I seem to hold on to you too. I am still wobbly in these steps I am taking, and I need you to keep my back straight as I walk on this path you have opened before me. I will get there, eventually. Most importantly, it must be you at my side, no one else will do. So bear with me, for now? Alright?

~~~~This is rotting in my drafts box because I was waiting for something to happen. @fooljshgirl, your post gave me the boost I need. Thanks a whole lot!!! Tagging the following: @books-and-colours, @jemchew, @rose-of-yonezawa. Sorry for the title, it’s a mouthful.~~~~

[haloshornsinkstains]

Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

Sasuke Sarutobi x Reader

Samurai Love Ballad Party, female reader, fluff, Lady Takeda makes a cameo

The ninja paused on her journey through the castle, narrowing her eyes at the faint glow coming from the kitchens. Wrapping her fingers around a kunai she crept forwards, carefully keeping out of the line of sight as she peered inside. Moments later she sighed and relaxed, stepping into view.

“Lady Takeda?”

The woman turned, shaking her head with a gentle smile. “How many times have I told you you don’t need to put on such airs with me Lady Sarutobi?”

The ninja laughed, shaking her head. “Ah but I’m not Lady Sarutobi.”

“Yet.” the Lady Takeda chuckled, “oh don’t pull that face, we’re all thinking it. Even Milord Shingen is looking forward to it.”

The ninja huffed, hiding her face behind her hair and shaking her head. “In any case, why are you in the kitchen so late into the night Lady Takeda?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I would make something for the men returning from battle.” She glanced down at the pans before her. “It seems to have turned into several things.”

“Well, perhaps you could teach me? Two pairs of hands are better than one after all.”

The other woman nodded and the two got to work, fighting away the worried sleeplessness as they waited for their men to return from battle with a veritable feast.

The Takeda forces returned late into the next morning, tired and bruised but victorious. Those they had left behind gathered at the gates to meet them, front and center of the welcoming party stood the two women, the lingering tiredness from a night spent cooking hidden behind their bright smiles.

“Ah, there’s my Tigress.”

The Lady Takeda beamed, cheeks flushing ever so slightly as she stepped forward to welcome her husband home. “Welcome home Lord Shingen. Are you injured?”

“Nothing more than a scratch.”

Behind the happy couple the ninja’s eyes darted over the returning army, seeking the unruly mop of hair and the man she so longed to see. Finally she caught him, his arm helping support one of the more badly injured soldiers at the back. With a grin she flew towards him, darting around their men with ease. Sasuke had handed the injured soldier to one of the others by the time she reached him, leaving him open for her to fly into his arms, her own tightly wrapped around his neck. He grunted softly at the impact, holding her tight against the solid muscle of his body.

“You idiot! Welcome home.” She huffed against his chest.

“Hey now, what’s that about?” He chuckled in response, coaxing her face up to look at him.

“You! Going away to battle when you’re already injured, you idiot!” She sniffed. “Don’t worry me like that again!”

Any response he might have had was cut off by the insistent press of her lips against his, pouring all her worry and relief into the passion of the kiss.

[gloriouspiratenacho]

April Fool's day drabble!

I used a random writing prompt generator to select a prompt for Hanzo, and received "beg to be put in the dungeon."

I couldn't resist seeing how the yandere trickster would respond to a dare for a little role reversal.

*********************

Masanari's soft laughter filled the room.

"Dear me, how bold. Plead for my pet to lock me away in the dungeon? You believe that I will not?"

The tanuki lord's victorious grin faltered in the face of his shinobi's confidence.

"Tch. What depravity you get up to with your woman is none of my concern. Get out of my sight, you serpentine bastard."

"How else will you know that I have completed your dare? Observe."

His lips twitched into a knowing smirk, one that he knew irritated his young lord to no end. The tanuki had thought himself so clever, coming up with a dare so contrary to Masanari's nature, something to finally make a fool out of him. All he had done in reality was allow the ninja another opportunity to tweak the lordling's nose.

The soft footsteps Masanari had heard in the hallway beyond stopped, the door was opened by his beloved.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting..."

Before you had finished speaking, he had swept you into his inescapable embrace, pinned between the hard wall behind you and the solid musculature of his body. Your soft squeak of surprise drew a chuckle from him, as his gleaming hair and enticing fragrance settled around you like a fragrant curtain.

"I have a proposal that may pique your interest, my little mouse."

His voice was low and seductive, dripping like sweet warm honey from his lips. Lips that hovered so tantalizingly close to your own.

"I have been so busy of late, we have hardly had time to sleep in the same bed. I am of the opinion that you should remedy that."

His elegant fingers trace slowly and possessively down your cheek, pinning you as much with his sharp amethyst gaze as with his body.

"If you were to even ponder the thought of leaving me, I would have no choice but to lock you away, ensconced where no other shall find you, to be seen by only myself."

His lips leave a lingering kiss of promise, gentle contrast to the vague threat held within his words.

"I believe that my time away from you is a transgression deserving of such a punishment."

The featherlight touch of his lips slip sideways, to place little kisses and soft nibbles along your jaw, down your neck, devouring his prey in small, excruciatingly pleasurable bites.

"Though it shall hardly seem like punishment with you as my warden, hmm?"

Straightening, although not releasing you from the prison of his arms, his little smile of satisfaction fills your vision.

"What say you? I think I deserve nothing less for leaving my pet for so long. I beg of you, lock me away in your cell, so that I may dedicate my entire being towards claiming your forgiveness for leaving you all alone."

For just a moment, Masanari's attention diverts from you to that of his silently fuming lord.

"Thank you humbly for the vacation you have granted for my diligent work, my lord."

Sheltering you in his arms, he flees the room with you as the thud of something heavy clatters into the place you were standing.

[ladybyakko]

To New Friends

OC: Haruki x Kyoichiro - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  "You know, that 'Suke's pretty hot."

 Her probing statement was met with stony silence from her companion as he glowered into the darkness.

"Hmm. He's so chiselled, you know? It's like he's been sculped by one of those European artists you get such a hard-on for." She smirked. "Speaking of, I bet every part of him looks like it has been carved from stone, ifyouknowwhatImean!" 

More silence as she cackled drunkenly.

"Aw loosen up, 'Chiro!" She playfully nudged her shoulder into his. "You're always so proper and uptight. Live a little! I won't tell him if you find him sexy, too!"

"You're unreal."

"I'm observant. And even if you don't find him attractive, you have to admit, it's great for your business when he comes a-calling. As soon as those broad shoulders squeeze their way into your doorway, I can almost hear the footsteps of every eligible young lady in the area haulin' ass to catch a glimpse of that winning smile."

A huff.

"Although, the view of him leaving is far more..." She made a strained noise and burst into laughter again. 

"Is this all you're going to do? The last thing I need today is to hear you salivate over Sasuke and if you're planning to continue, then I may as well leave you to it."

"Well, if you're not planning on joining in..?"

"I'm not."

"Then I have no other choice but to change the subject. Can't have your haughty ass grumbling away to yourself. Poor Raita. However did that poor baby survive so long?"

In the far distance, an owl called out a lonely hoot and the garden was once again illuminated by the clouds passing from the moon. As they were bathed in moonlight again, she could see Kyoichiro's face, twisted into something almost pensive. She suspected that he was thinking the same thing as she was.

"He really does have a thing for collecting lost souls, doesn't he?"

He responded by taking a drag from his kiseru pipe and sighing softly.

"Although, I guess that you do too..."

He turned his head quickly, bemused.

"Well, you didn't have to take me in when he found me, after all." She took another swig from her cup and leaned back, vaguely remembering of when Sasuke found her. The poison had robbed many of the memories from her but she recalled clinging to his armour, mentally begging any of the gods to spare her. She stared grimly into her cup, trying to ignore how the memory sobered her.

"I suppose your predicament reminded me of my own." He patted her foot absentmindedly and leaned against the wall. "Although if I had known what a pain you would be..." 

"Well I'm glad you're comfortable enough with me to jest now! I remember when I first arrived here you would barely look at me unless it was to growl some bullshit about cleaning. And don't even start me on the cooking feedback."

"That was not cooking. Not from anywhere on the planet."

"Excuse me?" She lifted her legs from his lap and sat up to face him. "I bet even the Europeans couldn't cook what weird shit you want to eat."

"The 'weird shit', as you so eloquently put it, is European. And I would wager that a blind monkey could cook better than you."

"Bit cruel of you to call yourself a blind monkey, babes."

"You would dare-"

"I double dog dare you, babes." She grinned defiantly, knowing how much he hated the endearment. She took the kiseru pipe from him, winked and took a drag.

"I can't believe I even put up with you."

"You love it. And you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

"Doubt it. I'm telling 'Suke to take you to Kai when he's here next."

"Mmmmm, please. Have you heard he's the spitting image of Lord Shingen? Can you imagine two of them?"

"You're unbelievable." 

"And still too sober. You have another bottle in there, don't you? Bring it out and have a drink with your newest best friend."

Kyoichiro stood with a dramatic sigh and took the empty bottle she was waving in front of her. He made for the sliding door with a grumble and, as soon as he was out of sight, he found that he couldn't help the secret smile that worked itself free. 

"Best friend, indeed."

[yoolee]

Samurai Love Ballet: PARTY

A/N:  A quintessential exercise in self-indulgence. Learn about the Nutcracker here. Original headcanon here. Also, all thanks to @han-pan, the culler of commas, the tracker of tenses, the sense-maker of sentences, etc. and so forth. EDIT I AM TERRIBLE Y’ALL I forgot to credit @dear-mrs-otome, provisioner of puns that you will encounter around 10:16.

Samurai Love Ballet: PARTY – Battle for Divine Tulle

07:03

Kojuro is already grateful for his assistant. He acquiesces instantly as she swaps his long-cold cup of coffee for a fresh mug of tea. In the same motion, she swipes away his notes on funding allocations and exchanges them for a tray of breakfast with as stern an expression as any scolding mother. It’s ruined a bit by the rosiness in her cheeks, brought out by the wreaths of steam from her tea and his. Instead of stern, he thinks perhaps that she looks like one of Drosselmeyer’s delights—enchanting and entrancing.

If only he could cajole her into being a distraction as they are, but she is already off and into his  spreadsheets, and he suspects he has missed his chance this morning.  Pity, that.

Though not for his budget, he acknowledges, as he watches her at work, murmuring quiet recommendations with efficient care.

She is, undoubtedly, his left hand, and he allows himself the time to marvel until she looks up and catches him watching. With something like a dismayed pout, she points to his plate. Not quite sheepishly, he digs in to the food she’s brought and his stomach sighs in gratitude at the reprieve from his abuse. He should know better than to drink coffee on an empty stomach, but he hadn’t meant to get sucked into things so early. He has to admit, that’s what he’s said every other morning since he accepted the position. Somehow, no matter how many hours he works, there’s more to do and it’s his job as artistic director to see it all done right. And so he comes in the early hours before spats between soloists, disruptions by set design, and last-minute changes by their capricious Executive Director and Producer can be introduced to interrupt his day.

And though she scolds, she never fails to see him fed with something fresh and tasty from her kitchen.

(That wasn’t in the job description, but he appreciates it.)

Not, he acknowledges, that her uniquely evolved role really has one. She gets him to delegate, keeps track of schedules, hops on stage for blocking, and notes down Nobunaga’s endless whims with a mostly straight expression schooled on her lips (she’s getting better at that, but it still makes him smile).

In another era, he supposes, she might have been his page, though he struggles to imagine a similarly absurd set of circumstances leading her to his side through history as those that have conspired to put her here now.

“Kojuro, are you listening?”

He blinks, and offers her a smile that only makes her faint frown deepen. “Of course, precious girl.”

She looks skeptical but reaches over and brushes his cheek, a soft smile lighting her bright features even as she attempts—unsuccessfully, once again, although he won’t tell her so—to school her expression into one that is serious and scolding. “Eat your breakfast.” She glances around the abysmal mess of his office, and fails to hide a sigh. “You know, it would be easier to find things if—”

Eager to silence that thought before she can finish it and he can get roped in, he quickly (and blindly) agrees to the unfinished thought he has no wish to hear her speak aloud and so turn into action on his part, “You’re right of course!”

08:30 - Elsewhere

(Outside his office, the company begins to trickle in, bags over shoulders, circles under eyes. He hears Oichi; the smooth, confident tones of his prima floating easily over the sleepy chatter of the rest)

08:45

As is his habit at this time, Kojuro checks in on Masamune.

To his pleasure, the company’s maestro is nibbling silently on a familiar-looking breakfast of his own, steadfast in keeping crumbs from falling onto his perfectly tuned piano. Kojuro feels a surge of appreciation for his assistant once more and the thoughtfulness that marks her presence in the company. It was once a rare thing to see an empty plate in Masamune’s hands, and Kojuro can only be relieved at the change.

Beyond Masamune’s corner, tucked against the far wall where mirrors meet barres, the dancers are stretching, and Kojuro can’t help but smile at their half-asleep grumblings and mumblings. It will be the quietest they are all day, no doubt.

“Do you miss it?” Masamune asks quietly.

Kojuro glances at him in surprise, and knows there’s more to the question than an eavesdropper would guess. Because of who asked, he considers the question with due gravitas. He remembers sore muscles, charley horses at 3 AM. He remembers the stage lights, the smiles, the whispering swell of ah’s from the audience, and applause at the end. He remembers how it feels to hold another person in his hands, a partnership dependent on synchronized seconds, the slide of warm palms across satin and tulle, the toss, the turn, the temperaments and trust.

But he considers, too, the alternative and lays them neatly side-by-side in his thoughts. In the other column is laying the strategy, translating the vision, plucking the strings and soothing the tempers, turning an idea into a grand reality, and watching it from the wings as it unfolds, out of his hands and in the feet of his dancers and timing of his crew. And, of course, his assistant, whose path may have never crossed with his own it were still endlessly and intricately making circles under spotlights.

On stage, he was a commander, by necessity.

Offstage, he is more…a consultant, and no less necessary.

He smiles faintly, and says nothing.

Masamune nods, and turns back to his piano as the dance master enters the room.

Kojuro’s faint smile turns a tinge wicked as the dancers immediately scramble to the barres without a word from their already faintly-disapproving instructor. Ishida Mitsunari is no easy taskmaster, but then, nor should he be. Kojuro inclines his head in greeting and slips out as class starts, the dancemaster’s acerbic snap deriding floppy dégagés and lazy, dull dancers echoing in his wake.

9:38 - Elsewhere

(Noboyuki is leading the corps through their new steps in the party dance. He corrects a placement with a touch that’s brief and a smile that lingers. The dancer stumbles - and the warmth gains an edge of disappointment.)

10:16

It’s too quiet.

Kojuro leaves his office, concerned with the serenity, and finds his instincts rewarded; his stage manager nearly in tears.

In three seasons, Kojuro has never seen Mitsuhide lose his calm. The quintessential right hand man, Oda Company’s Stage Manager is one of the only ones willing to push back against Nobunaga (understandably so, as it’s his crew that invariably takes the brunt of his changes) and handles each immediate backstage crisis with aplomb and quiet certainty. So Kojuro can only imagine what tragedy has struck, what horror has befallen his fellow cat-herder.

“Mitsuhide!” Alarmed, he runs to the man’s side, nearly taking a spill when a waylaid prop trips him up in his haste, “What’s happened?”

The other man turns, and schools his expression into one more familiarly unruffled on his features, but it only lasts a second before crumpling once more, as he turns back to hunch over what he has discovered. His hands helplessly gesture before him to the ropes looped around stage pegs. Worried, Kojuro follows his pointing finger, stepping closer to take a look at what he is sure is going to eat into his already thin budget.

And stops dead.

Mitsuhide sniffs and gets himself under control.

Almost.

“What a good widdle kitty she iiiiiis yes, and what widdle noooooses they have!”

Kojuro’s arms cross, troubled crease pressing between his brows. Apparently the theatre’s resident mouser, Bontenmeowru, is not, in fact, a he. Being an uneasy fan at best—despite the adorable name his assistant provided in an attempt to woo him to the creature’s side—Kojuro decides to let Mitsuhide handle it. “Right.” He says faintly. “Little noses.” Part of him wants to lean closer, stroke the soft fur and say hello.

The other part remembers what claws feel like.

He turns on his heel and retreats hastily to his office.

10:17 - Elsewhere

(Mitsunari is reading the riot act over lethargic assemblés - just because something is simple does not mean it is acceptable to do it without necessary effort. His ironclad argument rattles off the mirrored walls)

10:58

One of his marzipan flutes is missing her call.

Umeko, Kojuro thinks with a sigh. He automatically looks for Matsuko, since the pair of them seem to be inseparable, but for once they're proving him wrong. Matsuko is currently trying wheedle advice—and a date, Kojuro suspects—from their Cavalier. Shingen looks nonplussed, indulging the dancer’s flirtations with a cocksure smile, and Kojuro closes his eyes.

He’ll worry about that later.

For now he has a flute to find.

He is unexpectedly aided by the thud and flash of a spotlight turning on, illuminating his wayward dancer perfectly. He’s curious for a moment just how Saizo knew who he was looking for, until he sees who Umeko is with. His flute is arched into a stretch with her ankle resting on a completely frozen, sheet-white stagehand’s shoulder. “Thanks, Yukimura, you’re just the right height to help me stretch, and I’m so—”

Kojuro fights to hide a smile and instead pointedly glances to the light booth. Saizo.

The spotlight flicks off.

“Umeko.” Kojuro murmurs. It’s his firm tone, and he has to work to keep it that way when not only Umeko, but poor Yukimura too, jump in absolute unison. Umeko looks disappointed at worst. Yukimura looks…

Red. Kojuro decides, after cycling through a variety of descriptions regarding guilt, horror, shame, and impending visits to the gallows.

“I—that’s—well, um—I didn’t…” The man stumbles helplessly, despair in his brilliant blue gaze as he runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Of course not,” Kojuro agrees blandly, patting him on the shoulder. “You…” He has to pause to take a breath or he’ll start laughing and the poor fellow doesn’t—quite—deserve that. “Have dropped your tools…”

Yukimura blinks, and glances down, clearly failing to have noticed what would have smashed the toes of a less hearty soul. Not for the first time, Kojuro thinks wistfully of the lifts that could be effortlessly accomplished—if he weren’t afraid the tendency to drop tools would translate to dancers too. (Shingen has been coaching him. Kojuro wonders if Yukimura realizes quite what Shingen’s plans for him are - and, given the other contenders to replace the man when he retires, thinks it’s probably for the best if everyone remains in the dark).

Yes, best to keep him on sets for now, even if he does tap his toes in . Kojuro smiles sympathetically and nods before placing a hand on Umeko’s back to lead her away and back to where she is supposed to be. She looks nonplussed and pleased with herself. He gives her a look. “Please refrain from traumatizing our technicians.”

Umeko sighs, biting her lip and watching as Inuchiyo strolls by, whistling, on his way to the set shop, toolbelt slung on his hips and half of Clara’s bed over his shoulder. “But they’re so pretty…”

Kojuro makes a noncommittal sound. “Places, please.”

11:46 - Elsewhere

(There is a great fussing hullabaloo over a missing prop. Kansuke stands in the wings, holding it out to multiple people as they scurry about, frantically seeking it. No one takes notice.)

12:12

At noon, disaster strikes.

Though he has too much dignity—and awareness of ground that would be lost should he appear flustered—to run, Kojuro certainly does make his steps faster. His cast is palpably silent and that’s never good. It means one thing.

The Executive Director has paid a visit.

Kojuro closes his eyes in brief prayer that he has not yet crossed paths with Shingen, but knows it is in vain when he hears their lead dancer's low, amused laugh followed by the purring patronization, "Listen, slugger—"

"You listen you broken-down, doddering—"

Kojuro steps smoothly in between and doesn’t have time to sigh, "Director Oda—"

"—decrepit geezer, I—"

"Gentlemen!" Kojuro tries once more. This time he at least gets a glance in his direction. Where was Mitsuhide? Where was Kansuke? His assistant, at least, appears with a wink and a plate of sweets. He could kiss her. In fact he makes a mental note to do just that, and maybe more, once rehearsals were done for the night. "Director Oda, if you would follow me. Danseur noble Takeda, if you would excuse us—"

Shingen raises an eyebrow at the formal speech and Kojuro silently warns him with a gaze but to no avail. "Of course. Some of us are—"

"Hey Shingen try this, yeah?" His assistant shoves a cake in the dancer's mouth, even as her other hand busily pushes the plate into Kojuro's hands. Smooth as any choreography, he in turn offers it to their capricious financial supporter while doing his best to lead the man away. Luckily, Nobunaga is as fond of the home-baked goods as he ever was; though he looks a bit put out, allows himself to be steered away. Kojuro lets out a silent breath of relief. He rather dreaded asking, but the sooner he did so, the sooner it could be dealt with. "Now, what was it you came by…?"

"The tree needs to be bigger."

The tree already grew over 30 feet. He definitely needs Mitsuhide and is relieved when the other man flanks Oda from the other side, already looking determined. If also somewhat more decorated with cat fur than usual. “The tree is fine.”

“The tree needs to be bigger.”

Kojuro thinks despairingly of smooth rehearsals and takes a deep breath. “Why don’t we consider…”

12:30 - Elsewhere

(His assistant is everywhere, lunch in hand for those who have forgotten, chatting brightly and soothing bruised egos that took batterings during morning lessons. Mitsunari is unrepentant - and the dancers do look better).

13:34

Kojuro is thinking that he doesn’t miss the stagelights.

They’re hot, for one. Saizo is clever with them—he’s in the rafters again even now Kojuro suspects, and vaguely ( vainly) he hopes Sasuke, hasn’t clambered up after him again, because he’s certain that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.  The boy, who takes the bus straight to the studio from school is supposed to be their production’s Fritz and not an apprentice lighting technician, but Saizo and Yukimura do keep him out of trouble. Trouble just reminds him of the rest of his cast, and he decides to go back to thinking about lights as a safer topic of consideration. It’s the nature of having them on for a two or more hour performance, and the exertion required to perform for its duration, for them to heat up.

A dancer could be spared, he supposes, if one used less lights in the production, and he is the one who could make that call. He doesn’t. The effect of them, sending the younger Sanada’s sets into gleaming brilliance, is too valuable to the performance, and even if Oda would accept anything less than brilliance in his company’s productions—which he would never—Kojuro himself is hardly satisfied with a strategy less than absolute.

So the lights stay and the stage will heat. By the end of the run, the ornately beautiful—and heavy—costumes lovingly crafted by the Uesugi costume master will be saturated with sweat and grime, the sort that no amount of sprayed vodka or deodorizer can mask. Kojuro would have been skeptical of the vodka usage had he not used it himself in his own days of drenched costumes and dance belts.

(He doesn’t miss those, either.)

14:03 - Elsewhere

(Kenshin is gleefully fitting Shingen for tights. Kanetsugu stays outside the door, and resignedly warns away any would-be knockers)

15:21

One of his dancers is throwing a tantrum.

Objectively speaking, that isn’t unusual. He is used to artistic temperaments and the delicate handling of their sensibilities. What’s unusual, this time, is that the dancer in question is not entirely known for such things. His Clara is throwing a tantrum.

That is surprising.

Ai is an angel and has displayed remarkable maturity for her age in the face of being given a role that often creates quite an ego in young dancers. Immediately, Kojuro looks around for Sasuke, who at times embraces the bratty mischief of his role as Fritz a bit too literally. But he is nowhere to be found (rafters, Kojuro resigns himself with a sigh).

Kojuro crafts his tone to gentleness, the respectful quiet he used ages ago on a younger Shigezane and Masamune. “Ai?”

It works—he sees her expression twist in the dismay of a child disappointing someone—and she squirms for a moment before confessing, clear as a bell, “I don’t want to dance with him.”

Kojuro merely waits, unsure of which him she refers to, until she points imperiously to…Ah, yes.

Well to some extent, he can’t really blame her.                

The man on the other hand of her accusatory pointing merely crosses his arms across his chest, his smile benign and angelic underneath loose curls of  gold. He looks every inch the falsely accused angel. Which is why, Kojuro reminds himself, he was cast in the first place as the prince transformed from Clara’s beloved Nutcracker.

Kojuro is smart enough not to ask Ai why. Unfortunately for him, the Rat King (a man Kojuro loves like a little brother, and briefly considers pummelling like one when he opens his mouth, but he’s too old for that) is not.  “Aww, why not, doll? He’s not so bad.”

Ai doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s a dick.”

There’s a beat of silence. Kojuro’s hand comes down hard on Ieyasu’s shoulder, locking him in place even as an outraged hiss escapes his Nutcracker Prince’s teeth. Someone snickers. Hideyoshi, probably, the other contender for the role who instead opted to play the mysterious Drosselmeyer. Kojuro quickly speaks up. “Ieyasu, please—Kenshin paged from the costume room, your costume repairs are done.”

He sees the calculation in molten eyes, the acidic rebuttal forming, and sees too the weighing of options, the bile swallowed back down as Ieyasu opts for a poison smile that is all golden acquiescence and good manners. “Of course, Director.” He bows farewell to Ai—and if there is a mocking flick in the gesture, it is brief— and stalks off with the catlike grace that keeps him employed when his attitude has sent more than one of his corps dancers weeping to the wings.

Kojuro allows himself the brief pleasure of imagining Kenshin’s assistant’s face when he learns of his daughter’s language. He bites down a smile and decides that, outburst aside, Ai has earned her secrets. “It’s only for a few steps, Ai. After the Nutcracker turns into the Prince, Clara turns into the Princess.” A different dancer, instead of the child Clara.  “Just a few steps…”He hears Hideyoshi laugh, and the cheerful whisper of then he’s someone else’s problem!  Kojuro throws a bitng glance, and then gentles his expression, and even more grateful to have decided so when Ai’s expression instantly collapses into one tremulously unsure.

“Can’t I dance with Uncle Kenshin instead?”

“He’s retired,” Kojuro murmurs gently. And happier, by all accounts, in the throes of endless tulle, sequins, and silks. So long as he stays on budget, Kojuro is happy to leave him to it – and minding the budget is Kanetsugu’s headache before it’s Kojuro’s.  And speaking of absolving headaches, Kojuro’s assistant is suddenly there, kneeling by Ai’s side with a sisterly smile.

“C’mon, let’s take a break, huh?” His assistant cajoles sympathetically. Ai nods and Kojuro hears as they walk away, “You know, Mitsuhide found kittens…”

“Can we name ‘em?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Kojuro allows himself a brief moment of sympathy for the creatures, who will surely be doomed to paw de mew and copurrlia.

But then it’s back to business. “Set for Land of Snow,” he calls.

16:38 - Elsewhere

(Inuchiyo reaches for the drop curtain pull--instead he gets the snow release. White fluff dumps down on startled ballerinas two dance sets too early.)

16:58

Now, Kojuro thinks, unable to hide the smile that takes up residence on his face, now the fun begins.

The calm before the storm. Or, he supposes – the smaller squall before the tempest, since the stage and theatre is swarming with activity as dancers chatter and stretch and snack on their break, parents drop children off for rehearsal, set pieces are hauled into place. He waves to Kojiro, being fitted for his Toy Soldier costume, and is gratified when the boy’s expression blooms into a grin as he returns the wave. Next in line is his assistant’s little brother Yahiko, already angling for a fancy corporal’s hat. Kenshin is beaming at him, and whips out a peacock feather (from where, exactly, is a concerning question for someone else to attend to) for the cap in question. Next to him, Kanetsugu snatches it away, nonplussed by the twin pouting expressions that meet him.

Kojuro moves on. In the audience, Ieyasu is smiling thinly at their Executive Director, and Kojuro can tell from his posture that the earlier slight has not been forgotten—but it has been tabled, for now. No one has glass in their pointe shoes, he supposes—he’d have heard the shouts.

Hideyoshi, eyepatch in place and swirling cape pooling around his shoulders, is entertaining Ai and some of the other toy soldiers while they wait. Solemn-faced Mitsunari glides by followed by a parade of tiny, bouncing mice, gleeful to be wearing their tutus for the first time and giggling at their rat king, Shigezane, who is trailing along as though he is one of them. Kojuro catches some of the calm, quiet instructions the oblivious Mitsunari offers his small entourage—and the grumbled complaint in their wake from Yasumasa who fails to understand why the dancemaster doesn’t treat them like that. Their choreographer Nobuyuki pats him consolingly on the shoulder, but murmurs serenely, “Because they don’t show up hungover.” Toramatsu laughs, but smothers it when Yasumasa glares. Tadakatsu does not such thing and Kojuro calmly steps between his Spanish and Russian dancers, currently dressed as party guests for the first act, silently pointing them to their places.

His Arabian dancer is missing. No—Kojuro lowers his searching gaze, and sure enough, finds the man napping in the audience. “Kageie…”

His harlequin doll pops up at his elbow, “I got him!”

Kojuro murmurs his thanks and continues his survey. Oichi and Shingen are practicing the shoulder sit lift to the gleeful oohs and aahs of the younger dancers. Yukimura is looking far happier, but that likely has something to do with kittens in his arms, all straining towards a less-happy looking Saizo. Mitsuhide is adjusting his headset, murmuring instructions. Masamune’s orchestra tunes their instruments under his gaze and Kojuro frowns at their fearful whispers. Just because Masamune has high standards…he shakes his head. “Places!” he calls, and then there’s only one more person to find.

He smiles when he sees her, head ducked against her childhood friend’s as he makes a last minute repair to toyboxes Toramatsu and Yoshichi will appear from in the first act. Inuchiyo says something that makes her laugh, and the brightness of it is still in her eyes when they lift and meet his.

There, he thinks, is the true calm. Not before the storm, but in the center of it, amidst dancers scrambling to places and 30 foot tall trees (soon, Kojuro thinks with a sigh, to be 45), sour-tongued soloists and lost slippers, napping performers and flustered stagehands. He holds out a hand and she accepts it with a grin.

“Ready, Director?”

“Are we ever?” he offers fondly, but turns to the cast and raises a hand that—mostly—invites silence, helped by Masamune silencing the instruments. He has their attention, for now. For a few hours more, he’ll hold it, and take them through the paces necessary to create a dream out of dancing feet and magic out of mechanical sets. “From the top.”

More of Lee’s Rambles

[pseudofaux]

So I have mildly played SLBP and know of the characters mostly from a third party view (but h e l l o they are all so attractiveeee). I know that Nobuyuki is your Big Bae and I would love to ask if there is something you haven't written for him yet that you are *dying* to release your thirst for? He is Big Handsome and seems to be up my alley as well and I would love to see some of that good stuff from someone who has big love for him!

I am SO HAPPY that it is KNOWN that I love him, this makes me feel very seen. ｡:.ﾟヽ(´∀`｡)ﾉﾟ.:｡ Thank you, sweet sweet Shannie!

Being so self-indulgent is a fraught situation for me! I really appreciate you asking. I’m reading his route again now that the voiced sections are available and this is definitely something I’ve wanted to write for a while. It is not really a thirsty post (though I do thirst for him endlessly, and they DO thirst for each other), but I hope it will be enjoyable for other Nobuyuki lovers and those who are curious about him. It’s sort of a parallel narrative to the first act of this route. When I finish rereading it I hope I can write the rest, too. Thank you again!

When they begin, he is distantly sympathetic. Jinpachi has told him about the hairpin, and Nobuyuki pieced the rest together. She doesn’t do a bad job at her masquerade, but she loses her lowered voice and stiff face when someone is kind to her-- and the Takeda are kind to their own, it’s part of why the Sanada serve them. It’s part of why Nobuyuki is there in Tsutsujigasaki, instead of in Ueda where it’s so important he always be.

We make exceptions for the things we love, he thinks, looking at her sitting so ramrod straight. Her posture isn’t technically correct, but none of the Takeda care as long as this person isn’t a threat. And she isn’t, she isn’t any threat at all. He knows what is is: very far from home, and out of her element, and trying her best. She will exhaust herself with the pitch of her effort to be brave. He’s tempted to stay and watch. But he can’t do that.

He can’t leave her there, either. Shingen might know, it’s sometimes difficult to say how much Shingen sees. Nobuyuki admires this. But not enough to leave her there in her padded-out hakama.

Instead, he takes her a little bit father from her home. Maybe it’s fine to say he gives her a new, real home. Now he can watch over her in his. He’s not sure yet what to do with her or how to solve her family’s problem (if he should-- he thinks he should, and Jinpachi’s uncharacteristic advice that they should is really all the sign he needs). He has so much to keep him busy, the Shirai are not keeping faith and now that he is home that’s at the forefront of his mind.

Most of the time. He can’t help but think of her, now that she’s nearby, living among his people. And he does some of his best thinking looking out at the garden... which is next to the training grounds. He didn’t design the castle, but he knows it better than most.

If Yukimura really gets her out on the training field like he is trying to, he will hurt her and never forgive himself when all is discovered. Nobuyuki loves his younger brother, and we make exceptions for the things we love, so he allows himself to call her away and save her and Yukimura both. He gives her busywork to keep her out of trouble, and to her credit that’s where she stays. Her voice is soft in quiet rooms, and he remembers seeing her lose some of her disguise when she was touched by the kindness of the people in Tsutsujigasaki. She is sweet and brave, she has stretched herself so far into unknown fire just to protect her family.

Nobuyuki knows what that is like, in theory. The realization that she has actually done more than him in this surprises and intrigues him, and that’s what makes him decide to tell Jinpachi to go to the capital. The world doesn’t always reward good works, or his mother would still be alive and everyone in the castle would be a very different person. But he is the person he is, and that person wants to help this sweet, brave young woman. He’s fond of her. He doesn’t love her, but he admires her.

The Shirai behave even more poorly before Jinpachi returns. They may be toying with the Sanada and the Uesugi. Nobuyuki knows what’s coming before he tells his father what she is, and he tells himself that if anything happens to her he will always take care of her mother and brother, that if her legacy is their protection he’ll see that through. He trusts that is an exception she would make, for the ones she loves.

She confesses when his father asks if she is a woman, and Nobuyuki does not love her but something in his admiration for her grows when she does. She tells the truth when it would be easier not to, and she doesn’t complain-- she doesn’t really tell his father the half of the trouble the bureaucrat is causing her family. Her heart has a nobility she doesn’t. As he watches her talk, he’s glad he knows which is more important.

She accepts his proposal, though she is already shocked by all that’s happened to her. He’s a bit flattered and wonders if they will ever get to talk about this situation very plainly to one another, if he’ll ever get to hear her truest thoughts about him. He very much wants to, but his heart is already preparing to say goodbye to her, knowing he may never see her again.

His proposal will make her a hostage and take her even farther from home-- from her home with her family and from her home with him. She is a dear girl and she deserves better than the uncertainty of the Shirai’s hospitality. He tells himself the nobility she lacks means she doesn’t know the degree of danger she will be in. He also tells himself that the elevated status that makes her a prime hostage may offer her extra protection.

If he had the choice, it would. If he had the choice, perhaps he wouldn’t send her. But she has come into their lives at just the right time, and he loves his family. We make all kinds of exceptions for the things we love. 

They go to town and she’s deeply, charmingly polite, asking gentle questions about him which he mostly sidesteps entirely. She’s distracted by his own questions, but not for long. She doesn’t ask the same questions he asks her, and she doesn’t repeat the questions he doesn’t answer. In this and so many other things, she seems determined to be gracious as she makes her own way. He likes it so much he tells her about the peach tree. No one has heard that story in a very long time. She receives it so delightedly, with so much pleasure to learn about him. It makes him adore her more. It makes what he’s doing sit less easily in his heart. The world wouldn’t be a very nice place if she was hurt, or worse.

When they arrive back at the castle, it all plays out as he expected, and there’s the first mention of the potential need for a hostage to keep Shirai allied firmly with the Takeda cause. It’s only a thought, not an order, but he sees how she loses some of her happiness and slips into worry, the reverse of what he watched her do in Tsutsujigasaki. He’s watching her now, too, after all.

The best thing to do would be to leave it alone and leave her alone after the discussion in the main hall, it’s unkind but merciful to let her come to terms with things. He wants to be kind, instead, so he goes to her. She is perplexed and afraid, and he does not think this is the time to give her half truths so he does not say much at all. But she is happy not to be left alone, Nobuyuki can tell. It begins to weigh heavily, in his heart, the way he plans to use her if necessary. He thinks over whether it would help or hurt her, if it became widely known that she’s very dear to him.

When he leaves her, he stays outside her room for awhile, just to make sure she goes to bed. He can’t make her sleep, but he can make sure she has the comfort of night’s darkness in a safe place for at least a few nights more. When he puts himself in his own bed, he dreams of holding her, and it is so comforting—he is so bothered he can be comforted— he resolves to not only go with her on the journey to the Shirai, but to hold her before they say their goodbyes. He suspects it will give her comfort, too.

[laurifakristalina]

夜桜 - Kirigakure Saizo x MC

It ended up to need longer time that I thought... oh well, it’s still the 22nd here so Happy Birthday Saizo! I intended to make this a super angsty one but it ended up a bit fluffy and an OOC Saizo... I’m so sorry huhuhu. I got another idea I started to write about already but it’s for another Lord, so... Oh well! Nevermind that, enjoy! Sorry for errors, I rushed through this while having a headache >.<

The title is read as ‘yozakura’, or cherry blossom at night ^^

It happened just right when he started to feel like he can be happy about the day he was born. About the day that marked the birth of another assassin, foreshadowing countless deaths by his little hands. But she said that for her, it was the day where her love of her life is born. The person more important than her own life. The person she waited in worry no matter how good he is in his job, and welcomed with a relieved and happy smile plus a warm embrace every single time.

And he should’ve known, he really should have. She was a woman of her words, and would never back down from anything she decided to do, after all.

It was a particularly good day in the beginning of sakura season. And Yukimura being himself, he ordered Saizo to join him and other retainers for a hanami tonight, to drink with him until morning. Sigh… His young master never changes, and Saizo knew it was his Lord’s way to try to make him enjoy his birthday, especially after that particular event a few years back. So here he was, drinking glass after glass of sake that Yukimura poured for him without pause.

The guys were loud as usual, with the girl servants either pouring alcohol for them or gossiping and giggling over how the drunkards are acting. Of course, Yukimura being smashed was nothing unusual, but it still gave everyone a laugh, especially with sake in their body and the festive air. Sakura’s petals that dancing following the night wind id adding to the scenery, illuminated with the lanterns hanged on the sakura’s branch here and there. It’s almost a perfect night to do a hanami, especially with the moon so bright and stars can show its light without being bothered by the clouds.

Saizo glanced at Yukimura dancing in the middle of today’s party. Ahh, what a bright guy. His smile is blinding, even at night, and his laughter is infectious. What a perfect master he had, the light for his shadow. He looked at the moon reflection on his sake glass and smiled bitterly. Standing up, he swiftly jump into one of the bigger branch of the sakura tree, sipping his drink slowly, watching the storm of pink petals fluttering around before it fell on the ground.

It’s a beautiful sight. And somewhere deep in his heart, he hated it.

He remembered it like it happened yesterday, how those pink petals get stained with red. He remembered how the fresh one landed on top of the dark pool. He remembered them swirling around her, as if reminding us how transient and fragile life is, how it could end with one slash of sword.

“Just surrender yourself if you want her to keep her life.”

“Oh? Do you think I care? She’s only someone who’s favored by my Lord and given to me as a duty, after all. And what a pathetic guy they sent after me, now. Do they think I get soft just because I don’t do as much mission as I did before? Or has the standard gone down? Shame, really… I was expecting to get some fun out of this…”

“It’s the opposite, oh great Lord Assassin. We know for sure that we have your weakness, actually. Or will you actually leave her to die? Doesn’t matter for us, her life doesn’t have any value if she doesn’t mean anything to you. Her being dead or alive won’t change anything, so… should we try your words and kill her right now, right here?”

He could see the dagger pointing on her throat. Aah, what a bad timing for a hanami. He should’ve tried to refuse her, no matter how futile it is. He should just accept any mission so he didn’t have to be here. He should’ve not left her unguarded while he battled with the rest of the guys. He should have…

His sword wavered for a moment, his eyes met hers and he swore she could see his state of mind right now.

“Don’t.”

Before he could do anything, her voice reverberated through the silence.

“Never surrender your life, Saizo, or I will not forgive you. Ever.” Her eyes gazing right into his, as if to show her resolve. “Live, Saizo. Live, for Lord Yukimura and Sanada Clan. Not only survive, please, live a true life without regrets… for yourself…”

And before he could move, she twisted free and pulled a dagger from her obi, slashing the man’s throat open.

“I will kill myself before you can use me to gain advantage on him. I will end my life myself before his life taken to save mine. I will take your life and kill my own heart before I let you hurt him.”

Ah, how could he forget that his innocent, pure lady knows how to defend herself even though she never needed to before. How could he forget the dagger he gave her, even though he never intended to let her use it, ever.

And it was the first step she made into his world, into knowing the darker side of being a woman of a shinobi and samurai. Knowing the warmth of blood, also the taste and smell of iron in the air. It was the point where she left her old self to die for the sake of protecting the things she hold even dearer than her own life.

It was also a day where a boy who later be called the Lord Assassin was born, and now it also marked the day where his woman got her first taste of blood.

“Saizo, sorry for the wait! I’ve brought the dango so let’s eat them together with the others!”

Her voice pierced through his memory, pulling him out of his reverie.

Ah, he hated this day because it reminded the time he had failed and let her get dirtied with those filthy blood. He hated it because she should never know the shadow he and his world bears. He hated it because it made him realized…

“Saizo! Come on!!” 

“Sensei let’s eat~!! It’s so good! I’ll eat them all if you won’t!!”

“…So noisy… Alright, alright, now stop talking so loud you two…”

“Ah! Senseeeei it’s miiiine!! There’s still a lot left so why did you take miiiine?!!”

…that she had become so important to him that he was willing to drag her to the darkest part of his world, if it meant he could keep her by his side.

Well, just like this storm of cherry blossom still looks beautiful at night... She would surely still looks radiant to him even after drowned in his deepest darkness.

[amigoingbananas]

A/N: Shameless, self-indulgent Hide drabble. Self-insert...ish? Word count: 340 I blame this:

Hearing the door slide open, you hurry to greet the man who just arrived.

“Oh, Lord Hideyoshi! Welcome ho—” you say enthusiastically, but stop once you see the grim expression on his face. You rush to him, worried that something bad had happened.

“Is anything wrong?”

“Mm...” he looks down at the floor, avoiding your gaze.

“Lord Hideyoshi, please, tell me what happened?” You cup your hands around his face, tilting it upwards so he had no choice but to look you in the eye.

“I'm sorry! I was just out with Inuchiyo and MC, when all of a sudden...” his voice trails off.

“When all of a sudden what?!” You ask, your voice nearly turning to a shout as your mind went through terrible scenarios, wondering which one Hideyoshi might have encountered.

“Keiji was drunk, and... he kissed me,” he mumbles embarrassedly. At the sound of Keiji and drunk, you feel the relief rushing in. In a matter of seconds, your relief turns into laughter.

“Wait, you're not mad at me?” Hideyoshi asks, incredulous.

“Mad? Why would I be mad? Everybody knows what Keiji does when he's drunk! Considering how much time you spend with Toshiie, I'm surprised it took that nephew-in-law of his this long to kiss you!” You say, stifling your laughter.

“B-but I think I might have actually enjoyed it?” he says, color rising to his cheeks.

“With the amount of kissing he's probably done, I'm not even offended!”

Realizing that your reaction was different from what he was expecting, Hideyoshi couldn't help but join you in your laughter.

“Hahaha! I guess you're right,” he says, his mood in a much better state than before. “You know what I'd enjoy more, though?” he asks, brushing a thumb against your lips.

“Oh, you tease!” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “Well, I think...” you whisper, letting him feel your breath on his lips before kissing him tenderly. •

[frywen-babbles]

May I ask for a scenario between MC and Genya? Can be NSFW-ish if you want. 😘😘

A/N: All I know of Genya is what I have seen others post of him. I haven’t played Tenka’s Moon chapter and I‘m sorry if he’s OOC. The MC is SLBP MC, not the Moon chapter’s, bc I don’t know much about her either.

“I’m here to bring you your tea, lord Masamune,” you announced yourself before you stepped in his room. You set the tray next to him and poured him the tea when he suddenly grasped your hand.

You looked up startled and were met with a coppery red eye instead of a green one.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Genya… I thought you were milord Masamune… errr… Do you know where he is?”

"Hmm... he said he needed to talk to Kojuro about something. I'm sure we can get a moment just the two of us,"

Suddenly you found the tray pushed aside and the ninja so close to your face you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Ah!" you tried to pull back startled, but his hand found its way behind your back and he pulled you closer until you were almost in his lap. Your hand fell against his shoulder in an attempt to steady yourself, but he grasped it bringing it to his lips, a blush flaring high on your cheeks.

"G-Genya, I'm still working... this is no time to fool around," you tried to reason with the ninja, but he just snickered and pushed you to the floor, "a-and we're in lord Masamune's room!"

Just as his lips were about to touch yours he pulled back and helped you to sit up as well. You were about to ask what happened when you heard the voices of lord Masamune and lord Kojuro approaching in the hallway.

"Ah, ____, why are you here?" lord Kojuro asked surprised giving Genya a side eyed glance.

"Tea!" you managed to squeak, "I was bringing lord Masamune his tea!" You were sure the blush on your cheeks gave away that wasn't the only thing that had happened, but nonetheless lord Kojuro gave you a reassuring smile,

"Is it that time already? Good work ____."

You rose up and bowed at them,

"I'll get more teacups, milord!" you said, using that as an excuse to escape quickly.

[i-drabble-in-voltage]

Something Wicked This Way Comes...

In the form of a SLBP Toramatsu Drabble. Part one coming soon...

[thatlongspringnight]

Keeping warm (Modern Edition)

For @pseudofaux , because the tags you put under my the little drabble were enough to make me cry a little out of love and longing for Ieyasu.

So um

yes, tis short, but, full of love?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ieyasu?” You called into the empty living room, a sort of pout on your lips when you were met with silence, nothing but the soft sound of the heater and the light chirruping of Ichigo meeting you. You stepped over to the bunny’s cage, smiling when she snuggled up against it for the pets you were keen to provide.

She was as sweet as strawberries, and tart too, often eating the wires of her owner’s headphones, laptops…and one time the blender. A laugh under your breath punctuated that thought, and an extra loving little scratch to her fur.

She was a good bunny.

But that left no clues as to where Ieyasu was, and a search of the living room and kitchen turned up little. You bit your lip. He was one who knew how to worry you, and you swore he liked it, because when you were worried you couldn’t help but cling to him.

And even if he wouldn’t admit it, you knew he loved the fact that you worried for him, needed him, loved him.

It was going to snow soon, a winter storm, and you had asked him, as sweetly and firmly as you could, to be home before then…and had promptly been met with a scoff. He had work to do, the research wasn’t going to find itself, and god forbid he entrust his work to anyone else.

You had thought graduating would maybe lighten him up a bit.

A pipe dream, when it came to what he was passionate about, the flame that burned inside Ieyasu was not easily quenched.

Still, you sighed, opening the door to the bedroom, not expecting much, and fully prepared to head back into the weather on a hunt for him –

Only to be met with a shock of blonde hair peeking out from the blankets, and a familiar groan, as light flooded the room from the hallway.

“Oh. “ Your voice was amused, a flood of love in your veins, as you slowly slid into the room, shutting the door. “Yasu…?” You murmured his name as you sat on the bed, lightly brushing your fingers across the fringe of his hair, peeking down at his closed eyes. He had been sleeping, and that was enough to make you grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. Maybe – maybe you could go on ahead and make dinner, surprise him like that, and he could wake up to snow, and dinner, and you to keep him cozy.

“Not so fast.” His voice, deeper from sleep, spooked you as you went to move, his hand on your wrist. “Where d’you think you’re going?” His eyes, like molten copper, like gold, gazed into yours when you looked down.

“Oh… um…”You could feel the blush on your cheeks, you had gotten caught. “I was just – “

“You’re cold.” He scoffed. “Come here, you’re going to get sick like that, and I’m not going to be the one to take care of you.” The next thing you knew, you were lying in the bed, his body curled around yours, the warmth of him, enveloping you.

“Sorry for waking you up.” You mumbled, turning your face to brush your nose against his, a soft smile on your lips.

“I was waiting for you anyway.” His voice was a grumble, but his words made you weak, even as he pulled you closer to rest his face in the crook of your neck, to place a gentle kiss against your skin. “Now stop talking, let me warm you up.”