Translated

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Branch

An AU, rendering the tenipuri storyline as a samurai story, because the manga actually makes all the sense in the world if you just give them swords.
In the years of Sengoku, the time of Warring Domains, a young samurai is sent by his father to take direct service with the lord of the Uesugi domain. This is the start of his journey.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Story Notes" published on 2006-05-31 16:21:26.

"Immanent" published on 2006-05-31 16:22:30.

"At First Sight" published on 2006-05-31 16:25:00.

"Convex" published on 2006-06-01 18:35:22.

"Unnoticed" published on 2006-06-01 18:38:57.

"Tarnished" published on 2006-06-02 18:45:39.

"Need Beyond Want" published on 2006-06-10 18:52:40.

"Pride" published on 2006-06-15 19:00:43.

"Hold" published on 2006-06-16 19:06:26.

"Washed Dry" published on 2006-07-12 19:13:50.

"Brittle Edge" published on 2008-08-01 17:02:11.

"The Finest Things" published on 2009-05-02 11:09:19.

"Detachment" published on 2009-05-02 11:13:48.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is Untitled Meiji era print by an unknown artist from the Brockhaus and Efron Encyclopedic Dictionary, public domain (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Brockhaus_and_Efron_Encyclopedic_Dictionary_b82_782-1.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

Story Notes

Setting, background, titles.

The Translated arc is a retelling of the Prince of Tennis manga in the style of samurai stories.

It was inspired by my long-running frustration with the way Konomi draws on the tropes of the samurai story but sets them in the context of a shounen sports story. The two kinds of stories do not mix well, and character behaviors which would be explicable, and even poignant, in a samurai story become dissonant and even distasteful in a sports story. Echizen, for example, is a classic samurai figure: the character so brilliantly talented that he's a little mad from it. That is not, however, the kind of character who makes a good sports hero, and the shape of journey Echizen needs to take is totally at odds with the journey of a good sports hero. Finally, egged on by my fellows, I decided to have done with it and write the tennis boys in the setting they so manifestly belong to.

This arc will not cover every single event in the tenipuri storyline. It will only touch on the key points that most fixed my attention. That will, however, cover most of the teams sooner or later.

Setting

The arc is set in the late Muromachi period, somewhere around 1480 to 1550. This is the Sengoku era, the time after the Ounin war, when centralized authority failed and many great overlords were overthrown. The great domains broke up and the land was claimed by the lesser samurai, the peasants, the monasteries who worked and lived locally. This was the era of constant small battles, border skirmishes month after month and year after year, when the number of retainers a lord could claim and soldiers he could support and mobilize was vital to who survived and who didn't.

Thus, the tennis clubs become the body of various domain lords' retainers, and the Regulars become the generals and captains among them.

Liberties

This is not intended to be historically accurate in every aspect. I am drawing as much on the, at best, semi-historical genre of Japanese samurai stories as on actual history. The places in which Konomi has already performed that same maneuver only complicate my attempts at historicity.

Among other things, Konomi drew many of his character names from actual clans and heroes of this period. Rather than attempt to contort the plot around those facts, I have simply omitted any reference to the historical Sanada or Tachibana or Echizen clans and let the characters keep their names in their fictional situations.

For another thing, all the tenipuri characters get to keep their hair, rather than be partially shaved for a fasionable samurai coiffure. In this, it seemed best to follow common practice for demi-historical manga and anime rather than cause my readers to snarf their drinks all over the screen while trying to envision Tezuka with a proper period head-shave, moustache and topknot.

The historical aspects that I have used directly, such as the Takeda and Uesugi rivalry, are intended to echo, rather than precisely reproduce, actual historical events. In many cases I have considerably compressed, stretched or altered the timeline of events which did occur, historically.

Similarly, I have moved around some of the events and, more importantly, realizations within the tenipuri timeline to accommodate things like the lack of inter-domain travel and the segregation of the sexes. Sakuno would not, for example, be on a battlefield to intervene when Echizen is injured, but she can gain the same understanding of his determination in other ways.

I have assumed a much larger age range for the tenipuri characters, as well. The third years are now in their late twenties and early thirties and the second years in their twenties, generally. Echizen is about sixteen, as our story opens.

In other words, they are the ages they act, now.

Needless to say, a certain amount of fudging has been done to keep the fatalities down among the major characters.

Titles

I have used period, rather than modern titles, which I realize may set some readers off their strides. Most of them should be clear in context, but for those who would like a separate definition:

-sama/-dono: these were the titles of common courtesy, used both with peers and superiors. The usage is roughly equivalent to the modern-day -san.

-gimi or no kimi: two forms of the same title applying to a landed warrior or noble. Used in pretty much the same way as -dono.

Taishou/bushou: General. Bushou is a broader word for it, while Taishou is more personal and specific, and more particularly exalted as a title.

Taii: Captain. A sub-commander within the ranks of a clan's samurai.

-hime: used for a woman or girl who is well born, as, for example, a member of a domain lord's family. A girl from the lower ranks of the warrior class might be called ojou-sama by her inferiors (or ojou by a superior who's being kind), or simply Name-dono.

-gozen: a title used to address a woman of rank. Initially an address for noble women, by this late in the period it was shifting toward an address for the wives of samurai.

Tono/Oyakata-sama: terms for one's own domain lord, the ruler to whom one owes allegiance or fealty. Note that Tono is the direct-address form of -dono.

Domainname no Kami: title of the lord of a domain, such as might be used to refer to him in conversation. Eg the Uesugi clan lord would be Echigo no Kami when the Takeda generals are talking about him.

These are only a fraction of the titles actually in use during this time period, of course. Rather than pull out the whole bewildering array, I have picked out a few of the most common for the sorts of situations the characters find themselves in.

Immanent

A new, young samurai arrives at the central castle of the Uesugi clan. Drama, I-3

Echizen Ryouma had been in Kasugayama for a week, and one of Uesugi's warriors for three and a half days, before he ran into trouble. It was different than the trouble he'd expected.

One of the older and, in his briefly considered opinion, obviously lesser samurai was watching Ryouma while he practiced cuts alone. He'd known to expect that; people generally did watch him and it didn't make any more difference to him than the slight tickle of sweat running down his neck or the small roughness against his palm where the wood of the practice sword had been chipped. It was when the man started talking to his friend that trouble started.

Not for Ryouma, of course. Not yet.

"So that's supposed to be one of our new warriors? What, are the generals taking on pages, now, and letting them walk around with their fathers' swords strapped on, pretending they're samurai?" The man's friends chuckled with him.

Since Ryouma wouldn't have touched his father's sword if it had been delivered as a gift with the Emperor's compliments, he snorted.

The talkative one straightened up from the wall where he'd been leaning. "You! What was that? Are you disrespecting your betters?"

Ryouma straightened in turn and eyed the loud-mouth coolly. "No."

It took a moment, but eventually the implication penetrated and the loud-mouth started turning red and stepped forward with a hand tight on his sword. "Why you..."

A corner of Ryouma's mouth turned up. It was always so easy; too easy, really, but he did get some amusement from teaching idiots not to make assumptions. His weight shifted and his shoulders relaxed as he waited for the loud-mouth to come into range.

A shadow filled the doorway. "Enough of that, Arai." The newcomer smacked the loud-mouth briskly across the back of the head. "You know how Taishou feels about fights. You want to lose your head? And the kid's too?"

"Momoshiro-taii!" the loud-mouth sputtered. "But...!"

The newcomer raised his brows and the loud-mouth hunched his shoulders and backed away. The newcomer cocked his head at Ryouma, still standing and quietly watching. "If you didn't know, fighting in the clan is forbidden, here," the man smiled.

Ryouma shrugged a shoulder; he doubted it would matter. Fights found him and he found fights, no matter what the rules were. The newcomer paused and looked at him harder, eyes suddenly gleaming. "Of course, training hard, on the other hand, is encouraged," he murmured. He plucked a wooden sword off the rack and stepped out onto the floor, grinning. A streak of sunshine from one of the windows made his inviting glance even brighter.

Ryouma eyed him for a moment and grinned back. This one looked like a better challenge than the loud-mouth; if he was a captain he should be at least a little good. Ryouma slipped into the dusk between the slanting bars of gold light and set his feet.

After six exchanges Ryouma was smiling for real and shifted his sword to his left hand. He'd been right; Momoshiro was strong. He ignored the murmurs from the watchers around the walls, as inconsequential as the dusty breeze blowing in the door. Momoshiro's teeth flashed white at him. "That's more like it."

Ryouma's grin turned wicked and pleased. This Momoshiro had seen that he wasn't leading with his strongest hand. It looked like a captain, in Uesugi's forces, really was a little good. Good. That made this match worth something.

The next pass sent them both staggering back with impressive bruises starting, he could tell, and Ryouma spun around, feet sliding over the sleek wood of the floor, ready to lunge in at full strength.

Momoshiro stepped back. "Good practice," he declared. "I'll have to be sure to defeat you quickly, next time."

Ryouma considered this and nodded, resting his practice sword over his shoulder. "Later, then." A corner of his mouth curled up. "When your leg is healed, Taii."

The captain blinked at him and laughed. "I like you." He reached out to rumple Ryouma's hair as he left, now limping a bit though there was no blood showing through the bandage Ryouma was sure must be wrapped around his calf.

He glared a bit after Momoshiro's broad back and smoothed his hair back down and settled back to his solitary practice, ignoring the whispers and glances around him. A tiny smile lingered.

Maybe he would like it here.

End

At First Sight

The young women of the castle sneak a look at the new warriors. Drama with Pre-Romance, I-2

"Oh, oh, over here! Come here, Sakuno, you can see the new warriors from here!"

Sakuno squeaked as her friend grabbed her hand and pulled her toward an open screen. "Tomoka! But... if they see us..."

Tomoka paused to give her an exasperated look. "One of them might be someone we're married to. You know Sumire-gozen is thinking about that for you these days. You want to look, don't you?"

"Well..." Sakuno nibbled her lip.

"Good. So come on!"

Sakuno didn't resist being dragged this time, though she did entertain a very brief and uncharitable thought that Tomoka's kimono were plainer than hers and less likely to be seen through the screening leaves. That was unkind, though, she scolded herself. Tomoka was her friend and would never leave her in trouble.

Even if she did get them both into trouble with her boldness.

They did have a good view of some of the new, young samurai gathered under the trees. They must have just finished some training. They all looked tired and dusty and one was all wet from the well-bucket he'd just turned up over his head.

"I'll be given rank soon," one of them was saying. "Thanks to my two years of battle experience, I have advantages."

Tomoka snorted, inelegantly, beside Sakuno. "I bet his father was a foot soldier."

"Tomoka!" Sakuno hissed, making hushing motions.

And then she was distracted.

One of the samurai who had been standing quietly on the edge of the group took the well bucket and dipped up some water to drink. The calm of his expression and the economy of his gestures fixed her eyes on him. "Oh..."

"Hm?" Tomoka nudged against her shoulder. "What?"

"The dark one," Sakuno murmured. "With the deep eyes."

"The one at the water?" Tomoka made approving sounds. "He looks just about our age! He must be really good to be here at the castle so young."

"Yes..." Sakuno sighed as the one they were watching pushed his hair back. He was so graceful.

"Sakuno-hime! Are you in here?"

Sakuno jumped and squeaked at the voice of one of her kinswoman's ladies in waiting. "They'll find us!"

"Hurry up, then," Tomoka hissed back, jumping to her feet and pulling Sakuno toward an inner room.

Sakuno went along as fast as possible, but she also threw a last look over her shoulder, though the small spring leaves, at the young samurai.

End

Convex

Echizen cleans his sword and thinks about his new place. Drama, I-3

Ryouma sat in his rooms in the middle town, with his sword over his knees, cleaning it. His hands moved automatically, years and years of familiarity guiding them while his eyes rested on the blade without seeing it.

There were strong people, here. Not many that could give him trouble, but a handful who might be worth something to him. A handful who might help him step up. Not that he cared about rank, not like Horio, or even Kachiro, whose ambitions were a lot more realistic. He'd watched his father's distant smirk at generals who passed through their town. Rank wouldn't help.

His sword flashed lantern light up at him as he turned it over and he blinked dark spots out of his eyes as he reached for the oil.

Rank wouldn't help. Talent wouldn't help. Plenty of people were talented; Ryouma was talented; talent wasn't enough to get past his father. The rest of the world fell away from Ryouma's sword and left only him standing, and still he couldn't find the step to reach where his father stood.

Stood smirking.

Ryouma gazed blankly at the surface of his sword as his hands smoothed a fold of soft paper down its curve, wiping away excess oil.

Maybe Uesugi would be different. Maybe he would finally find it here.

Whatever it was.

End

Unnoticed

Echizen escorts Sakuno and deals with a little trouble. Other sorts of trouble, he misses completely. Drama, I-3

Sakuno's eyes were sparkling behind the light veils of her travelling hat.

Not only had Sumire-gozen said that she might go visit the local shrine, but Echizen-dono was escorting her. Sakuno suspected Sumire-gozen had had something to do with that. Normally the high-handed manner of her mother's noble cousin alarmed her, but if Sumire-gozen approved of someone then no one else would thwart them.

Even the clan lord didn't often go against his mother's wishes.

And it seemed that Sumire-gozen approved of Echizen-dono and the fact that Sakuno liked him. However much the crowds out on the streets jostled around her, nothing could make Sakuno regret coming out in public today.

Even if there were an awful lot of awfully loud people...

"Don't you know anything? The Tatsumi school holds the saya like that, so you can draw like this!"

Sakuno squeaked, starting back and treading on her own hem so that she wobbled, as a blade swished past her nose, close enough to catch on her long veils. The brightly dressed samurai demonstrating for his friends didn't seem to notice.

"That training journey you took really taught you a lot, Sasabe-sama," one of them exclaimed.

The one with his sword out laughed expansively. He was in the middle of the way, now. Sakuno bit her lip, wondering how she could pass.

Beside her, Echizen-dono looked around and sniffed. "You must not have journeyed very far. That isn't the Tatsumi school's grip."

The gaudy samurai spun around, face red. "What?!" His sword speared out, pointing between Echizen-dono's eyes. "What does a brat like you know about it?"

Echizen tipped his head to the side, so careless of the sharp point a bare thumb's width from his face that Sakuno gasped. "Well, if you need a lesson..." He dropped his hand to his sword. "It's the first finger that holds the guard. Like this." Steel flashed and his sword struck the other aside so hard it spun out of the other samurai's hand. Echizen-dono lifted a brow. "And your grip is too weak."

"E-Echizen-dono..." Sakuno whispered behind her hand. That was... an awfully provoking thing to say... And then she stumbled a little as the fuming samurai pushed past her to retrieve his sword.

"I'll give you a lesson, you little runt!" he yelled, making a lunge toward Echizen-dono.

Echizen-dono slipped back out of the way of a vicious cut. "Is that the fastest you can move?" The other samurai didn't answer, glare fixed and furious, and Echizen-dono shrugged, left foot sliding out, sword dropping low.

"Hah! You think you can defend from below?" The angry samurai bared his teeth and swung down.

Sakuno wasn't sure what happened next. Echizen-dono's sword barely seemed to twitch but the other man's strike went awry and he stumbled forward, eyes wide.

"Too slow," Echizen-dono said, softly. There was another flash and the other man was down in the street, clutching his leg and keening through clenched teeth as blood pooled rapidly under his thigh.

Echizen-dono flicked his sword away from Sakuno with a snap of his wrist and sheathed it, and turned to look Sakuno up and down. "You didn't get dirty. Good. Let's get to the shrine, then."

Sakuno hurried to his side and they walked on, leaving the commotion behind as the wounded samurai's friends clustered around him, shouting.

"Echizen-dono... thank you," Sakuno murmured at last, blushing.

Echizen-dono blinked at her. "For what?"

"Ah... nothing." She tilted the edge of her hat a little lower, wondering whether Echizen-dono was just being modest or whether he really didn't think protecting her needed comment.

Or, she admitted to herself with a silent sigh, maybe he hadn't done it for her at all. He was a samurai, after all; she was young, but she knew how the men of her own class could be about fights and challenges. Sumire-gozen complained about it enough, even though she smiled when she did.

Perhaps she'd ask the kami to tell her which it was, and whether she had any hope of drawing the eye of someone like Echizen-dono.

They walked on with silence drifting between them.

End

Tarnished

Tezuka watches his newest warrior and wonders about him. Drama, I-3

Kunimitsu watched his men training, silently, eyes moving from one to another, pausing to rest on the group in the corner, leaning on their blunt spears and laughing, until they fell quiet and straightened and returned to practice. His gaze returned, again and again, though, to one particular pair of warriors.

"So, Echizen convinced Inui to train with him? Such impressive enthusiasm."

Kunimitsu glanced aside at Fuji, come to stand with him and watch. "Inui invited him."

Fuji's brows rose and he looked more sharply at the circling pair as they closed yet again. "He's interested by someone so young? Echizen can't have had a man's name for more than a year or two." The murmur was absent, though, and Kunimitsu waited to hear what Fuji saw.

Inui was pressing the younger warrior, never following the openings offered by Echizen's stance, always cutting for the real weakness. Echizen's eyes were wide and sweat had soaked through his shirt in places, even in the cool morning air, but...

"He's not afraid," Fuji stated.

Kunimitsu nodded agreement. Echizen wasn't afraid. He was watching.

Inui's next strike didn't connect. Echizen's wooden sword slid inside his and slashed high across his hip. Inui was suddenly stiff as they stepped apart again, and Echizen was grinning. Kunimitsu settled back a bit.

"You think he'll win."

Kunimitsu glanced at Fuji and didn't answer. Inui was the best tactician among the Uesugi forces. No one could count more than a handful of successful attacks on him, in training, besides the other generals. And Fuji, of course.

But this boy, with the sharp eyes and unreasonable strength and arrogant mouth, was going to defeat Inui in a training bout.

"He'll come with us, when we move out next month," Kunimitsu said, and Fuji cocked his head.

"Will that be enough to show you? Kaga's forces are pretty raw."

Kunimitsu was quiet for a moment, watching the soft, warm sheen of polished wood as practice swords flickered in the morning shadows of the training hall, listening to the crack and scrape as they met.

"When the temple in Kaga gathered the peasants and small samurai to rise," he said at last, softly, "Tachibana was wise enough to ally them to one of the stronger overlords, to throw the rest out. And when they had, he and those he had gathered to him were strong enough to throw Togashi out in turn. Tachibana himself..." Kunimitsu's eyes narrowed. "They will be enough."

It was Fuji's turn to nod silently and Kunimitsu settled back against the wall as Fuji moved away through the training pairs.

Kaga would be a good place to see Echizen's real mettle. Kunimitsu's mouth tightened.

Echizen's form was beautiful. Deadly.

And wrong.

Somehow, it was both too much and not enough. There was a hunger and a bleakness behind those bright, focused eyes, a desperation that contrasted strangely with his obvious strength. Kunimitsu needed to know what was wrong, and know it before this ragged edge on Echizen's spirit cut apart any of his fellow samurai.

He would hope to find out when they fought Kaga, and Tachibana's men.

End

Need Beyond Want

Echizen enters his first battle as a samurai of Uesugi, against the forces of Kaga under Tachibana. Drama, I-3

Momo snorted with disgust as his only opponnent of the day so far broke and scrambled back. He let the man go, though; the signal banners were changing. Momo nodded to himself as the colors came up and yelled "Fall back!" to his squad, and waded back into the fight to make sure the very few men with determined opponents got free. One last scan of his bit of the field revealed one last warrior still engaged and Momo frowned. Echizen was good enough, he shouldn't need any extra time...

"Echizen," he called sharply, "fall back!"

Echizen didn't even seem to hear him. Momo waved his squad on, with a growl, and went back for Echizen himself, keeping a wary eye out. These worthless rounin Kaga had taken on after Ginka's fall might be jumping at their own shadows, but, as his father said, you were just as dead if they killed you with a big stick.

They would probably have been fine if Echizen's opponent hadn't seen himself about to be caught between the two of them and panicked. Momo reacted automatically to the man's desperate, circling slash.

So did Echizen.

It ended with Momo's and Echizen's swords tangled and the unharmed opponent staring, open mouthed, at his amazing good luck. He scrambled back without questioning it, leaving Momo and Echizen glaring at each other.

"Why did you interfere?" Echizen snapped.

"We're supposed to be falling back," Momo growled back. "Don't you ever pay attention?" He hauled Echizen back toward the rallying point with him, and Echizen came, scowling.

"I had him."

Momo muttered under his breath, wondering what had possessed him to offer to keep Echizen under his wing, for his first battle with Uesugi. Just because he liked the kid's style...

The kid's very aggressive, really kind of familiar style...

"Fine," Momo snorted, hiding the start of a grin. "See if I ever try to remind you about orders again."

Echizen glanced up at him, eyes suddenly gleaming. "Whatever you say. Momo-taii-dono." His own grin was bright and wicked.

They smirked at each other, in perfect complicity, and dove back into the fighting.

Kunimitsu suppressed a rueful sigh as he realized that Ooishi was, indeed, planning to keep close to him the entire battle. He knew his friend didn't approve of Kunimitsu coming even this far forward.

His doctor probably wouldn't be very pleased, either.

A nearly healed injury was no excuse for ignoring his duties, though, and he had a duty to be here, to show his standard and anchor the lines he had ordered. Even, or perhaps especially, his oldest friend knew better than to dispute that.

So Kunimitsu merely had a bodyguard.

Of course, there was an extra reason he wanted to be far enough forward to observe closely, today, and Kunimitsu's mouth tightened a shade as Momoshiro hauled a severely limping Echizen past the last of the engaged warriors. The hasty bandage on the boy's leg was already bleeding through.

"Looks like he got into trouble, after all," Ooishi murmured, pulling loose a sash and waving the two in.

Kunimitsu was not surprised, any more than he'd been surprised to see Echizen fighting the strongest, and wildest, of Tachibana's warriors.

Echizen bore with having his leg rebandaged and stood with a brisk nod. Momoshiro tossed his sword back to him, and they both looked satisfied.

Ooishi, on the other hand, did not. He shook Echizen by the shoulder, sharply. "You can't go back out like that!"

Echizen didn't even wince at the shaking. "I have to finish it." His eyes were nearly blank with determination and dark with wariness, gazing up at Ooishi.

Ooishi frowned. "You've done well, today. Don't push yourself foolishly. It's more important to continue fulfilling your duty, as a samurai of Uesugi."

On anyone else, Kunimitsu reflected, that appeal to propriety and pride would have worked. No flicker of acknowledgment marred the boundless determination of Echizen's expression, though. Only a hint of the need Kunimitsu had seen before.

Kunimitsu nodded to himself and held up a hand, stifling a smile as Ooishi frowned at him, in turn. "Finish it," he told Echizen. "And then you will come back behind the lines with the other wounded."

Pure relief lit Echizen's face with a smile that might have been soft if it weren't sharpened by such intent focus. "Yes, Taishou."

"Tezuka," Ooishi remonstrated softly, as they watched Echizen drive back through the battle, straight for a slim, pale samurai with burning eyes who was clearly waiting for him.

"There's nothing that holds him back, right now," Kunimitsu murmured. "And nothing that drives him on. Nothing true."

Ooishi let out a slow breath.

Kunimitsu watched Tachibana's warrior falling back as Echizen's stikes steadily picked up speed and strength. "He deserves better."

He didn't know if he could show Echizen everything the boy needed to see. But he would try.

For duty and for the brilliance of the samurai Echizen might become, he would try.

End

Pride

Tachibana's officers renew their bonds in the aftermath of their battle with Uesugi. Drama, I-3

Akira hovered beside his friend as Shinji flexed his arm. He wanted to go on to recheck the rest of their injured, but he was wary of the thoughtful expression on Shinji's face. It was the one that might just turn into wanting to excercise the arm immediately, and never mind what the doctor said.

"Shinji..."

The screen behind them slid softly open, letting in a spill of sunlight. "Well, that's the temple settled with. All the injured will be cared for here until they're on their feet again. Kamio? How is everyone?"

Akira stood quickly, feeling a bit lightheaded with relief just to hear his leader's voice, deep and collected as always. "Tachibana-dono! Everyone's going to be all right with some rest, the doctor says..." He swayed, vision blurring for a moment. Maybe it wasn't just relief...

Strong hands caught his shoulders, pushing him back down to the tatami, and Akira focused on the quirk of Tachibana-dono's smile.

"I think you'd better rest, then. That was a pretty heavy head blow you took."

Akira nodded, setting the world briefly swimming again. "Yes, Tachibana-dono." Next time, he vowed to himself, he would be ready for Kaidou of Uesugi's perseverance and would not let his guard down too soon. Gathering his scattered thoughts he continued his report. "Shinji's shoulder was only dislocated, and Ishida and Sakurai came out with no injuries, though both their squads had serious losses." Akira bit his lip.

"I saw that Mori and Uchimura had to fall back," Tachibana-dono said quietly, looking over at the pallet by the far wall. "How bad?"

"Mori took one of Ooishi's arrows in the leg." Akira ordered his hands not to clench on each other. "Uchimura... he took Kikumaru's knife in the side. It got past his armor."

Tachibana-dono squeezed his shoulder and rose, moving toward the three captains clustered around their heavily bandaged fourth. Akira and Shinji followed silently.

"Tachibana-dono!" Uchimura made as if to sit up, only to be held down by his co-captain.

"The doctor said to stay flat, so stay flat, damn it!" Mori ordered, fiercely, before looking up at their General. "Tachibana-dono." He bowed his head, formality hampered by the bandaged leg stuck out in front of him and the grip on Uchimura's arm he hadn't let go. "I'm sorry. We couldn't—"

"No," Tachibana-dono interrupted with a smile. "You have nothing to apologize for.

Mori frowned down at his lap. "But we didn't—"

"You reached the command lines, and opened up the center for the other squads." Tachibana-dono settled down beside them, resting a hand, for a moment, on Mori's bent head. "You occupied their attention for the time we needed. You did well."

Akira smiled himself, as he sat down, though he had to catch himself against Ishida's shoulder when he swayed, head giving a warning throb. Mori still didn't look happy, but he was holding his head up again. No one would ever wonder at their trust in Tachibana-dono, who had seen his trust in them.

"No one yet has been able to defeat Ooishi Shuuichirou when Kikumaru is fighting beside him," Tachibana-dono told them. "They're a deadly combination in the field. You did well to hold them as long as you did."

Uchimura and Mori both looked up at him with clear eyes, now, and Akira nodded to himself. Much better.

"So, I guess we're eating dinner here, today?" a light voice asked from behind them.

"An-dono!" Akira could feel Shinji laughing, silently, beside him, and knew his face must have brightened right up. But he couldn't help it. An was leaning in the door, overkimono just a bit askew with how briskly she walked, eyes laughing.

"An." Tachibana-dono smiled at his sister. "I was coming back soon."

"Oh, of course you were." She came and let the very large parcel she was carrying thump the the floor, and gave her brother a look of tolerant amusement. "In the meantime, though, you might as well all get a good meal. It'll help you heal up." She undid the parcel's wrappings and started unstacking the trays inside. "Tell me how it went."

She listened and nodded and insisted on details as they took turns telling her, and stuffed a bit of rice into Uchimura's mouth when his eyes darkened over the explanation of how Kikumaru had gotten through to him.

"If you were having trouble with Ooishi-bushou's ranged attacks, then you'll just have to practice harder with me, when you're on your feet again," she declared, filling her brother's sake cup again.

"It's Ishida who's going to be practicing more with you," Tachibana-dono corrected, returning the favor. "You're strongest with a short blade, not the bow, and it will do him as much good to work with a small, fast partner as it will you to face raw strength you can't overcome directly."

An huffed at him and some sympathetic grins appeared among the officers. Her determination and ferocity drove An to take her warrior's responsibilities far more seriously than most women of their class, but they also made her a bit too direct for her own good at times.

Of course, that was one of the things Akira liked best about her. One of the things all Tachibana-dono's officers could most relate to.

"We need to be stronger than we are, though," Shinji observed. "All of us."

Akira met his friend's eyes and they smiled at each other, sharp and hot. "We will be." He looked up at Tachibana-dono, willing their leader to accept their determination.

Tachibana-dono's mouth curved slowly. "Of course you will," he answered, soft and strong as the first breeze in typhoon season.

The seven of them nodded at each other while An smiled over them with gleaming eyes.

End

Hold

Tezuka tries to break through to Echizen. Drama, I-3

"Echizen. Come with me."

Ryouma blinked at that casual summons, but waved to Kachiro and followed along behind the General calmly enough. Everyone said he'd done well against Kaga and he was reasonably sure he wasn't in trouble. Whatever reason Tezuka-dono had to come fetch him just as Ryouma's work shift ended, it probably wouldn't be any worse than boring.

He thought twice about not being in trouble when they came out into the practice grounds. Tezuka-dono's ideas about keeping order ran heavily to extra training. With weights. For hours. Not that it was any difficulty to him, but it did take up a lot of time, and it was near sunset already. Ryouma glanced around and saw no one else working in the soft, slanting light. They were probably all eating. Was he going to miss dinner completely because of whatever this was?

Then the General turned to face him across the practice ground and loosened his sword, and a spark of excitement brushed aside those thoughts. Ryouma could feel his pulse speeding up as the General drew and nodded for him to do likewise. Tezuka-dono had ignored all his previous hints, but now it looked like he was finally going to get a match against the warrior who was supposed to be strongest, out of all Uesugi's forces.

"Come," Tezuka-dono told him without any preamble, light sliding down his edge as he beckoned.

Ryouma smirked, and cheerfully did as he was told.

He expected his first slash to be caught. He did not expect it to be turned easily aside, as if he'd attacked at completely the wrong angle. He backed up again, fast, eyes wide, knowing he'd been open.

Tezuka-dono's expression was no longer even. Still and steady, it burned. "Come."

Ryouma's eyes narrowed, and he did.

Blow after blow, no matter how he came in, every one was caught, turned, the force muffled and spent for nothing. Ryouma's focus narrowed, and narrowed again, searching for the key, the pattern in Tezuka-dono's movements that he could match. He could almost see it; he could catch parts, but something was escaping him no matter how far he reached for it.

In the end it was his own pattern that broke first. One step lunging just too far beyond his balance, and Tezuka-dono's foot brushed his aside, and Ryouma stumbled to his knees. Training and determination brought his sword in, ready to cut upwards, and...

Ryouma knelt where he was, staring up at the General. He could feel the deadly thin line of Tezuka-dono's sword against his throat. It didn't move when the General spoke.

"Why do you fight, Echizen?"

"To win... against my father," Ryouma managed.

"Your father isn't here."

No, he wasn't, though there'd been a few times in this fight when Ryouma would have sworn he was. Except that Tezuka-dono was nothing the same. Except that Ryouma had... lost... he never lost, except to... but Tezuka-dono wasn't... Ryouma's thoughts tangled, and he couldn't answer.

The edge of the sword flicked away. Instead, the General's unmoving gaze pinned Ryouma where he was. "You are part of Uesugi. Find your place in support of this clan."

His place? Support? What did that have to do with his father? Ryouma got slowly to his feet as the General stepped back. He felt rather unsteady on them; he hadn't lost to anyone but his father in years. Now there was... another bar. There was a challenge, serious and steady and sharp as his sword, in Tezuka-dono's eyes. Ryouma pulled in what felt like his first breath in hours. Days.

Maybe even years.

"Yes, Taishou."

End

Washed Dry

Fuji decides to try his hand against Echizen. It provokes a lot of thought. Drama and Romance, I-3

Tezuka had been in a demanding mood, lately, Shuusuke observed. The results were fairly entertaining, at least for those strong enough to actually keep up with the suddenly increased pace of the garrison's training. He had to wonder, though, who they were going to be taking the field against after the rains were over; it had to be someone with a powerful force, to drive this sort of effort.

Tezuka didn't answer questions like that, of course, not directly. He would only confirm them, silently, if Shuusuke guessed right. So, for now, Shuusuke simply wiped dripping sweat away briskly and looked around for someone still on his feet to practice with.

His eyes lit on Echizen, leaning on a fence catching his breath quietly. Echizen's head had a sardonic tilt as he watched the histrionics of some of the other young samurai, declaring that they were about to die of exhaustion. Shuusuke chuckled to himself; he had to agree, no one who could still complain that loudly was anywhere near death. He collected a pair of wood swords and tapped Echizen on the shoulder with one. "Care for a match?"

Shuusuke saw Tezuka's head come up from the corner of his eye and threw a small, quick smile over his shoulder. It wasn't fair, his glance said, for Tezuka to have all the fun.

The sword left his hand, and when he looked back around Echizen was grinning.

Shuusuke felt a touch of excitement flicker along his nerves as they moved out into the open, feet scuffing up tiny puffs of dust to mark where they set themselves. Echizen was good. Not good enough to make Shuusuke lose, but perhaps...

The thought suspended itself as Echizen drove in and every movement sharpened its edges in Shuusuke's eyes. He turned one blow and slid inside another but Echizen was already gone, turning too, and Shuusuke barely recognized the abruptly tightening angle of his side stroke in time to stop it. Echizen's grin was a notch wider as they drew apart. Shuusuke's own smile sharpened for an instant. Well, if Echizen was so confident he could break through...

Shuusuke gave him a clean opening and was hard put not to laugh when Echizen took it instantly. A smooth shift back drew Echizen in and sent him on past, all the driving power of his thrust no longer directed at Shuusuke. Echizen whipped back around, eyes narrowed, and Shuusuke smiled at him. Echizen's glare lit with answering ferocity and Shuusuke had to take a slow breath for focus and control as Echizen's passion tugged at him. This was what a good fight should be like.

Another opening, and another, and another. Echizen came after every one with fire in his eyes, and Shuusuke was aware of the watchers starting to murmur. They probably thought it was just Echizen's stubbornness, he reflected. But he could feel it—the tiny changes every time their swords met, the constant pressure of Echizen seeking the weakness in Shuusuke's defense. Thrill sang through him, kept him offering those openings just to see the beauty of Echizen's straight, driving lines, just to feel that rare danger.

And finally there was one more tiny shift that didn't seem to call for any alteration in Shuusuke's stance... but Echizen's sword flashed over his own and kissed his ribs. They broke apart, both panting for breath, and satisfaction barely touched Echizen's face before that ferocious, driving focus consumed it again.

"You don't have to give me chances any more, Fuji-dono," he prodded, and Shuusuke chuckled.

"Well, then." They came together again, hard and fast.

It wouldn't happen yet, no matter how much Tezuka had set Echizen on his mettle, but the possibility of losing breathed through every contact of their swords and danced chill down Shuusuke's nerves. So much so that he didn't recognize the real chill air stirring around them until sudden, drenching rain swept down. Shouts and clatters rose around the practice ground as men grabbed up weapons and made for cover.

Shuusuke and Echizen stood, unmoving in the sheeting gray wet, eyes fixed on each other.

A single flash of lightning showed another figure, as unmoving as either of them, standing by the fence with folded arms. Shuusuke smiled as thunder shivered through the rush of rain; Tezuka would not stop them.

Their feet slid in the wet dirt as they closed, this time, but the angles of motion were as tight and brilliant as ever in Shuusuke's sight. It was exhilarating. It was beautiful. It was...

...interrupted by a dripping messenger skidding to a halt at Tezuka's side. "Taishou! Sumire-gozen is asking for Echizen."

Shuusuke thought he might just have caught a flash of calculation in Tezuka's eyes before he nodded. "Echizen! Go dry off and attend on Sumire-gozen."

Echizen lowered his sword and gave Tezuka such a look of betrayal that Shuusuke could barely stifle his laugh. Echizen glared at him for a long, fulminating moment before stumping off through the rain muttering. Tezuka's glance after him narrowed with a moment of satisfaction. Shuusuke shook his head; always the leader, Tezuka was.

His thoughts felt slick. Fast and flashing. Shuusuke watched Tezuka dismissing the messenger and the lingering samurai and waited for the world to slow, the distance to recede and bring him back to everyday.

Before it quite had, he heard Tezuka's footsteps behind him.

"Why did you toy with him like that?" his friend asked, quietly. "Echizen is not a light opponent. Why didn't you fight to win?"

Shuusuke lifted a hand and let the drops of rain patter against open his palm. "It's thrilling to see something so close to perfection; to draw it out fully. That's all I wanted." He cast a rueful smile over his shoulder, suspecting Tezuka wouldn't like that. Still, considering what he was positive had happened between Tezuka and Echizen recently... "Would you have done it differently?" he challenged lightly.

The faintly troubled question in Tezuka's face washed away. "Victory is our duty," he stated inflexibly. "And it should be our only calling." A shadow of weariness touched his eyes. "This is why you're not an officer, Fuji."

Shuusuke bent his head. "I know." He sighed softly. He still thought he was right about why Tezuka was so taken with Echizen, that he was drawn by the same fascination that engaged Shuusuke. But... perhaps there was also more, for Tezuka.

The warmth of Tezuka's hand on his shoulder was shocking, and he realized he'd cooled down too much, standing in the rain. So he didn't protest when Tezuka beckoned him to come along and they passed through a handful of courts and walks to arrive at Tezuka's house. Ayame met them at the entry to welcome her husband home and covered a soft laugh to see how drenched they were. When they emerged from the inner rooms, dry and decently clothed again, she looked up from heating sake with a smile. "Will you eat with us, Shuusuke-dono? It's been too long since you visited."

"I wouldn't want to impose," Shuusuke murmured, an answering smile curving his lips at how Tezuka's hand lingered on Ayame's as he took a cup from her, and the way their eyes warmed as they met.

"It isn't an imposition at all," Ayame declaimed more firmly than mere manners required, turning back to her guest. "Your company would be a favor."

So Shuusuke let himself stay and be enfolded in the serenity of Tezuka's household. The irony of that serenity always appealed to him. He knew perfectly well Ayame controlled the house with an iron hand to match her husband's, for all her gentle charm. The contrast had entertained him for as long as he'd known them. The genuine warmth between husband and wife plucked at him, though, the moreso for how subtle it was; they fit each other so well, and it was in an effort to turn his mind aside from those thoughts that he asked, "Was it like that for you, when you fought Echizen?"

Tezuka's brow quirked. "So you did know about it, then."

"Mm." Shuusuke took another sip. "It was fairly obvious. To me, at least."

Tezuka looked out at the rain that was still falling. "Echizen needs true challenges."

"You seem to have given him one," Shuusuke observed. Echizen had certainly been more focused today than had been usual in the past.

"I gave him a beginning." Tezuka's eyes were distant. "We will see. Even someone who finds his way doesn't always go down it."

When Shuusuke left, this time covered by a straw raincoat at Ayame's insistence, he headed straight down into the town. Only occasional lamps lit a bit of darkness with silvery flickers of rain, but he took a path his feet knew without any direction from his eyes. He smiled gently at the girl who met him at the door.

"Will Yumiko see me?"

He waited in the room she showed him to, gazing silently past the slats of the window. It was sooner than he expected when the door whispered open and closed.

"Shuusuke!"

He looked up and smiled ruefully. Yumiko was dressed for the evening, kimono falling around her like a story told in silk, hair as light as his own folded sleekly up and held by bright combs. "Did I call you away from someone?"

She dropped down beside him in a rustle of fabric, tossing her sleeves back to hold out her hands to him. "It was a large party. Chiharu will look after them, and they won't miss me."

Shuusuke caught her fingers in his. "I don't believe it," he teased. "No one could possibly not miss you."

She tipped her head and gave him a long, clear-eyed look. "Shuusuke. What happened today?"

His smile relaxed into a laugh. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"Not a thing." She tipped her head thoughtfully for a moment and then drew his hands to her and placed them on the elaborate knot of her obi, smile turning playful. "It's only fair."

Sometimes Yumiko knew him better than he knew himself. Shuusuke let his troublesome thoughts fall away for a while, and it was much later, with the softness of her hair lying over his bare shoulder, that he answered the question she had asked.

"I think Tezuka wants me to be an officer," he said quietly, watching the shadows move over the ceiling. "And I would work toward that if—" Her fingers covered his lips.

"Only an officer is likely to receive enough land to afford my contract," she agreed. "And such a highly placed samurai should not have a courtesan who doesn't know who her father might be for a wife."

Shuusuke sighed. He hadn't really thought her answer would change, but... "I will take you out of this place, Yumiko," he said, low and serious.

She leaned up on one arm, looking down at him as gold lamplight slid over her skin and the depth of her eyes, only a shade darker than his but so much more beautiful. "Someday," she said, at last. "Yes. You will."

Shuusuke smiled, small and true, and drew her back down against him and closed his eyes.

End

Brittle Edge

An outsider samurai visits, looking for a challenge. Echizen gives it to him and comes a little closer to figuring things out. Drama with Action and Blood, I-4

The room was noisy and hot.

Ryouma sat a bit back from his group, far enough that no one could easily refill his sake cup, though that didn't really seem to stop Horio. He watched. Warriors of the garrison laughed loudly, some staggering between the low tables, drunk feet catching on worn places in the floor. Merchants of the town smiled at each other with congratulation or gloating, hands waving over steaming cups. Matrons and servants with market baskets for dinner rested on the benches by the door.

It was just the kind of scene he'd watched before, in another town...

"Echizen! You're not drinking!" Horio leaned precariously far over to elbow Ryouma in the ribs and fill his cup to the brim again.

...though never in quite these circumstances. Ryouma sighed to himself and sipped. It seemed he didn't have a choice, these days. Whether it was Horio dragging him along to drink or Momoshiro to the bathhouse or Kikumaru-taii to the theater with Ooishi-bushou, he seemed to be firmly stuck taking part in the life of the garrison.

It was really a little strange. An improvement over watching his father chase girls in and out of the public houses, but strange.

The door curtains flapped, catching Ryouma's eye, and a samurai he'd never seen before stepped through them. Ryouma tipped his head; a new warrior?

The man prodded one of the drunk samurai by the door with his toe. "Hey. There's supposed to be some strong warriors around here. Who's the strongest?" His flat tone made the back of Ryouma's neck prickle.

The nudged samurai, on the other hand, looked too far gone to notice, and smiled cheerily. "Oh, that would be Tezuka Kunimitsu-sama, our Taishou."

The sudden light in the man's eyes pulled Ryouma forward onto his knees, tense. "Where is he?" the visitor asked.

Arai pushed up from the next table. "Wait a minute. Why do you want to know?" He squinted at the man in the doorway. "You a ronin or something? Taishou doesn't take challenges from the likes of you."

Steel flashed and blood sprayed across the table of suddenly shouting samurai. Arai was on the ground without even a scream. The man's expression didn't change at all. "The likes of you don't tell me what to do." He raised his head and looked around at the samurai with swords out and the commoners scrambling back. The man's eye fell at last on Kachiro, fresh sake bottles held loose in his hands as he stared down at Arai bleeding out nearly at his feet. "You. Where's this Taishou of yours?"

Kachiro paled and Ryouma's eyes narrowed. "He isn't here," he said, clearly, standing. "Other people are, though."

The intruder looked down at him and smiled, thin and crooked. "Oh?" His arm lashed forward again.

Ryouma turned the first cut on his sheath and the man swayed back out of range as Ryouma's own sword licked out. "Yeah."

The man laughed and swung down heavily. Ryouma darted in under it only to take a kick to the stomach from an impossible angle. The intruder's hilt cracked into the side of his face so hard Ryouma saw fireworks behind his eyes as he stumbled back into a table. He wrenched himself back up, bracing for the next blow, knowing it would get through.

Only it never came.

Kawamura-taii stood frozen in the door, hangings half pushed aside as he and the intruder stared at each other. "Akutsu..." he said at last, hesitantly.

The intruder snorted and sheathed his sword with a violent snick. "I'll come back later for your answer." He brushed past Kawamura-taii, striding out into the late summer dusk. The captain looked after him with a troubled frown for a long moment before shaking himself and calling sharply for people to carry Arai up to the castle doctor.

Ryouma pushed himself onto his feet, holding back a wince. A strong hand caught his shoulder, steadying him.

"Are you all right, Echizen?" Kawamura-taii asked quietly.

Ryouma's eyes followed Arai's bloody body out the door. He wasn't at all sure the doctor would be able to do anything. "I'm fine," he bit out.

Or, at least, he would be.

He looked up to meet Kawamura-taii's concerned eyes. "I need to talk to Taishou."

"... so you knew him."

"For years, yes. My mother still talked to his, after she married a... well. But listen, Ooishi, Akutsu is dangerous."

"Well, obviously, if he took Ochibi down like that," Kikumaru-taii chipped in. "But why is he here? You'd think a ronin making trouble would know better."

"Well, there was a rumor that Ise-no-kami, took him on." Kawamura-taii's hands twisted the cloth of his sleeve. "And he has a reputation for sending his warriors on training journeys whether they want to go or not."

"Hmmm."

Ryouma knelt on the mats, ignoring the conversation of the officers as it swirled around him, staring intently at the General, who was staring at one of the lanterns with a distant expression.

"Well, somebody's going to have to meet him, one way or another."

Ryouma caught the firming of the General's mouth and the faint, sharp nod of decision, and leaned forward. "Taishou." He wasn't sure himself whether it was a plea or a demand, in his voice.

Tezuka-dono met his eyes evenly. "Echizen will meet him."

Ryouma settled back, breathing out a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd had to sit on his anger.

It was so much worse when it wasn't just for himself.

They met in the training yard.

"The kid again, hm?" Akutsu looked down at Ryouma with cold eyes.

Ryouma shrugged. "We didn't finish, last time."

This time he was watching properly, and this time he was ready for the attack that came out of nowhere. Three exchanges—five, and he thought he might have Akutsu's rhythm—and then he was knocked back, a slice burning across his shoulder from a stroke with no rhythm or reason. The harsh crack of Akutsu's laughter taunted him as he straightened, eyes narrowed.

There was something strange about this, about the way Akutsu was always looking through him and not at him. Something that let the man attack without reason.

The thought echoed back to him in the General's voice. Without reason...

Ryouma shook his head. He didn't have time to think about it now. He focused and drove himself to move faster, seeing nothing but the wild flex and bend of Akutsu's form. This time it was Akutsu who fell back with blood welling up to trickle down his side. Akutsu pressed his hand to the slash and glanced down at blood streaking his fingers.

Abruptly those flat, cold eyes focused on Ryouma and turned bright. Ryouma's breath caught and the sudden fierceness of Akutsu's grin drew him back in like he was pulled on a string, faster still, muscles burning with the new pace.

One flashing, brutal strike followed another, staggering both of them back with bared teeth only to dive in again. Around and around each other, looking for a way to cut and thinking nothing else. The watching warriors were shouting and Ryouma couldn't hear them over the driving beat of his own heart, faster and faster.

In the end Ryouma's speed finished it, as he'd been almost sure it would, and Akutsu's sword crashed to the dirt behind him. Both of them stood frozen for a long moment before Ryouma nodded and stepped back.

"You lose."

A few chokes around the edges of the yard answered Ryouma's bluntness. Akutsu's hand flashed out to fist in the fabric at Ryouma's neck and drag him close with a snarl.

Ryouma ignored the shouts behind him, and balanced on his toes in Akutsu's grasp, waiting. His opponent's eyes were still bright and intent on him.

Just as abruptly as he'd done everything else, Akutsu let him go and threw back his head, laughing. Ryouma watched him with raised brows as he collected his sword and walked away, still chuckling. Momoshiro appeared at his side, glaring after Akutsu.

"That guy's crazy."

"Mmm." Ryouma frowned a little. He didn't really think Akutsu was crazy... He didn't have much time to reflect, though, before he was buried in congratulations from the rest of the garrison. Ryouma bore with it as patiently as he could, but when he caught sight of Kawamura-taii moving off quietly in the same direction Akutsu had gone, he muttered something about getting cleaned up and escaped.

It wasn't that he was worrying, he decided as he cut behind houses to catch up. Kawamura-taii was an officer, he could look after himself just fine. Ryouma was just... just curious.

Which was why he leaned against the wall around the corner and out of sight, when he finally caught up with the two men.

"Akutsu..." Kawamura-taii said, hesitantly.

"Captain for Uesugi, hm?" The well-bucket rattled and splashed downward. "Place suits you."

"I heard Taira Banda-dono took you on."

A snort. "Old bastard." More splashes and a sound Ryouma readily identified as the stifled hiss of pain from washing a wound. "Don't know if I'll be going back."

"But," Kawamura-taii protested. "Ronin... Akutsu, that isn't..."

"Kawamura," Akutsu interrupted. "I'm satisfied."

There was a long pause Ryouma had no idea how to interpret and then a soft "Oh," from Kawamura-taii. It sounded like he might be smiling, though, when he added. "Good luck."

Another snort. "Whatever. Don't get killed."

"I won't." Definitely smiling.

A new voice, bizarrely bright and cheery called out, "Akutsu-sama! Are you done already?"

Ryouma blinked and risked a quick look around the corner. A boy who looked even younger than him was standing next to Akutsu, arms full of gear, beaming up at him.

Akutsu glared and growled. "Yeah, I'm done. Thought I told you to stay with the damn horses."

The fierce tone didn't even make a dent in the boy's smile. He didn't answer the growl either, just bowed to Kawamura-taii. "I'm Dan Taichi, sir." Then he ignored Kawamura-taii, too, to fuss over the slash in Akutsu's side.

Akutsu snorted and smacked his hands away. "I'm fine, Taichi."

Dan sighed, looking ever so slightly exasperated. "Yes, Akutsu-sama." He cocked his head and looked up—way up—at Akutsu. "So, if you're satisfied, are we going home?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

Ryouma was fascinated—it was like watching a rabbit boss around a wolf.

When a fresh glare didn't work Akutsu turned to shrug his coat back over his shoulders. "Yes," he bit out. Then he glared at Kawamura-taii instead, who quickly stifled the smile twitching at his lips and looked back without saying anything. Akutsu snorted, with a bit less emphasis this time, and waved a casual hand as he turned and walked away. Dan took a more formal leave and trotted to catch up.

Ryouma took a look at Kawamura-taii standing, smiling after them, and quietly took himself off.

As he made for the baths, and hot water to keep him from stiffening up too badly, Ryouma tried to get his mind settled. He felt oddly divided, which was not how he usually felt after a hard fight. This time, though, the passing calm of accomplishment was already ragged.

Unsatisfied.

His sword had satisfied someone. But that someone... wasn't him. He turned the thought over, poking and prodding at it. It had been a good fight. And that seemed to be enough for Akutsu, enough to rest against. Obviously, Ryouma needed more than just a good fight.

A reason... the General's voice murmured in his head.

Ryouma walked on, frowning.

End

The Finest Things

Atobe deals with some trouble among his officers. AU, Drama, I-3

Keigo drew his horse down to a walk, trying to keep a discreet eye on everything as his men filed back up to the castle, sweaty and dusty and noisy, the winners of the mock battle teasing the losers. Their lord was watching, imposingly still on his own mount. Taki was riding with his head down, barely lifting it to snap back when Mukahi prodded him about today's resounding loss. Shishido...

Shishido rode with his head raised for the first time in many weeks, and his eyes burned bright. He had earned that pride back, to be sure. But Keigo rather thought he knew what today had been all about, and he tried once again to catch Shishido's eyes and signal him to leave his victory to speak for itself for now. Once again he failed and stifled an impulse to throw over subtlety and just bang the idiot over the head a few times. Tarou-sama was beckoning Keigo to his side, though, and he would just have to trust fate for now. He drew rein beside their clanlord and bowed. "Tono."

"How badly were Taki's forces defeated?" Tarou-sama asked, evenly, eyes on the men passing him.

"Completely," Keigo reported, keeping his voice dispassionate, no matter how much he wanted to grind his teeth with frustration. "They would have lost two out of three, had we been in the field."

"Hiyoshi will take his place as sub-commander in the future."

Keigo inclined his head, having more or less expected this. Of course, he also half expected the scuffle of abruptly halted horses behind him and Shishido's sharp protest.

"Tono!" Shishido hauled himself out of the last of their men, who, wise to the ways of their clan, were making their way out of earshot as quickly as they could manage without actually running. "This was my victory! You can't...!"

Keigo cut him off before he said anything too unwise. "Shishido, what did you expect? This doesn't erase the way you lost to Tachibana."

Shishido wasn't listening. As usual. He flung himself off his horse and down to the ground before their lord, and his helmet hit the dust beside him. Keigo stifled a sigh. Someday, Shishido would learn patience.

And then none of them would recognize him.

Keigo stiffened as Shishido pulled out his knife, though. Surely he wouldn't... And then he had to force his jaw shut as Shishido sliced away his hair with a few savage strokes. Keigo thought the soft whistle from behind them might have been Oshitari. This was certainly a gesture no one who knew Shishido's vanity would have expected, even in repentance. Even Tarou-sama's brow lifted.

It put the cap on the day's surprises when their youngest captain stepped forward and knelt beside Shishido.

"Oyakata-sama," Ohtori said quietly, formally, "Shishido-dono has worked harder than any of us to repair his weaknesses. Surely he has earned his rank back."

Tarou-sama's other brow lifted and Keigo had to stifle a wince this time. He appreciated courage in his sub-commanders, but couldn't any of them take the trouble to learn to read their lord's moods and pick their times?

"Would you trade your rank for his, then?" Tarou-sama purred.

Ohtori's eyes widened and Keigo saw him swallow; but then his back stiffened. "I would."

Keigo really, really hated it when his officers put him in a spot like this. But he also really, really didn't want to lose Ohtori's talents in the field, and Keigo was the only person who could tip the balance now. He swung down from his horse and came to stand at Tarou-sama's stirrup.

"Tono. Ohtori is a valuable officer. And Shishido has, I believe, overcome his faults." He bowed. "I ask this, as well."

He could feel Tarou-sama's eyes on him for a long, hot moment, before his lord murmured, "Do as you see fit, then," and turned his horse away toward the castle. Keigo let his breath out and straightened up.

And then he turned to glare at Ohtori and Shishido, both of whom looked a little stunned. "You'll be co-captains," he snapped. "And you'd better prove that I'm right."

"Yes, Taishou," Ohtori agreed, dusting off his knees briskly.

Shishido snorted. "As if we wouldn't." And then he looked sidelong at Ohtori. "Choutarou. ...thanks."

Keigo rolled his eyes and left them to it, stalking over to the rest of his officers. "No one says anything about this to Taki or Hiyoshi until I do," he ordered.

Mukahi sniffed, nearly lounging in his saddle with what Keigo could only call aggravated insouciance. "As if they won't have heard a dozen times by the time we get back to the castle."

Oshitari reached over and rested a hand just above the boy's knee. "There is a difference between general gossip and an account of Ouchi-dono's own words directly from our highest general, Gakuto," he murmured, and Mukahi subsided with a shrug.

It was, Keigo reflected a bit sourly, a good thing for Mukahi's continued health that he and Oshitari were so inseparable. Even if Keigo, personally, thought Oshitari could have had better taste. "Let's go," he told them all, mounting again and reclaiming the reins from Kabaji.

Taki was infinitely easier to deal with than Shishido, and Keigo was thankful for the fact. Taki didn't push or snap, and he quietly accepted Keigo's subtle assurance that his skill and accomplishments would be brought to Tarou-sama's attention at an opportune time.

Unfortunately, Hiyoshi was even more of a handful than Shishido, in his own way. He took the news that his impending rank had been snatched away again without a word, merely bowing at an entirely correct angle. His eyes never fell, though, and they burned into Keigo's back as he left.

He resolved to keep a closer eye on Hiyoshi. The times were unsettled enough to give young almost-officers ideas. The last thing they needed in this province was any more of the small samurai seeking to overthrow their superiors.

End

Note: The clan lord is, of course, Sakaki. He is roughly equivalent to a mix of Ouchi Yoshioki and Ouchi Yoshitaka.

Detachment

Yukimura and Sanada discuss the future a little. AU, Drama, I-3

Yukimura lay with his head turned to look out the open screens, into his garden. Spring sunlight, softer and lighter than the heat of summer, made the small leaves glow and skipped over the water of the pool as the breeze ruffled its surface.

It was beautiful and serene, and normally Genichirou would have shared an appreciative quiet, complimenting his friend silently on this space. Today was not normal, though. They hadn't had normal days since the start of winter.

Yukimura turned his head back to look up at the ceiling. "I may not be with you at Kawanakajima this time." The curve of his mouth could not be called a smile.

Genichirou frowned. "Yukimura."

"Have you seen?" Yukimura asked, quietly. "The peach blossoms are already passing." His expression was calm. "As everything does."

An unaccustomed chill settled in Genichirou's stomach. Yukimura could be chilling at times, of course, but it was the brutal, living cold of spring water—something that never froze and always moved. This... this was the dead chill of ice. His own years of study and meditation told him it was a good and suitable thing, that Yukimura realized the passing nature of all life. But the hotter core of him insisted it was wrong.

Attempting to balance his own thoughts, Genichirou found himself remembering another afternoon in this garden, years ago. "You promised you would lead us back there as many times as victory required," he said, and his lips quirked wryly as he looked down at Yukimura. "It isn't like you to break a promise."

Yukimura blinked and his eyes refocused on Genichirou at last, wide with surprise. They were silent for long moments, watching each other while birds called in the garden.

Finally Yukimura smiled, and this time it was genuine. "Of course." The breeze lifted the leaves of the maple beyond the screen, and sunlight poured over them showing gray eyes gleaming and alive again. "I'm sorry to have troubled you, Sanada."

Genichirou waved a hand, disclaiming any trouble, and they both relaxed, looking out once more into the strong, serene lines of the garden.

End