[FIC] promise of that distant day. (3rd remix)
Continuation of that weird Immortal!Koujruou and reincarnated!Date thing - though this part is just all Koujurou, haha. I guess he needs something, with how much I've been focusing on Kisei in the last parts... >_> Anyway, previous part is here for those who are curious. I still have no idea what I am doing with this...
v. stepping upon the promise in that distant day.
The Zuihoden Mausoleum is known as one of the top attractions in modern-day Sendai-situated on the top of the hill known as Kyogamine, it has been the traditional resting place of the Date family ever since their first lord of the city fell. He was known as Date Masamune-the One Eyed Dragon, the dokuganryu. The first head of Sendai.
And more importantly, his master.
Centuries might have already passed since the day it was first completed, since the day this tomb was built in order to house the body of the one who had ruled the whole of Oshu with a strong will and an unmatchable power that even reached the heavens themselves. His lord was supposed to be invincible, to be that relentless dragon which would strike and attack all that was in his reach. But yet, because of him, because of his one mistake, he was now gone and dead and all that was remembered of him were books and tombs and statues.
He might be remembered, but he wasn’t alive-and that made all the difference to Koujurou. Remembering wasn’t the same as living; all he could do was to let the memories of the past play in his head again and again, every cycle of those memories only adding the guilt weighing down in his heart and soul. For so long has he tried to search around the world, but hundreds of years have already passed and still he cannot find him, in order to keep that promise which he made in his lord’s final moments.
Koujurou really doesn’t know what exactly brought him here, to return to this tomb; it’s been a long time since he last allowed himself to come here, before this place was revitalized and made into a tourist attraction that so many from all over come to visit now. Sometimes he feels outrage and anger boiling through him when he thinks about how such a sacred place was decimated for a purpose like this, but at the same time Koujurou knows that this is just one of the many things that has happened in the years that have gone by. The world that he lived in was now long gone, only told and remembered through books and pictures and re-enactments. He’s nothing but a clinging fragment of a world that had long since vanished from the face of this earth, somebody who’s been long forgotten by the world and time itself.
The history books have all written him as dead, having vanished in the days after his master’s death and never to be seen again. It only makes sense, really-for without his master to serve he is nothing more than a person who has no more purpose in his life. And for the Right Eye of the Dragon to have lost his dragon, he’s nothing more than a limb that’s been cut off and thrown away to die and rot.
But yet here he still lives, seeing the years flash by before his eyes as he watches the rise and fall of the Tokugawa shogunate, sees the uprising of the Meiji restoration before it starts to tumble down onto the Taisho period and then World War I happened. And as if that wasn’t enough, World War II soon followed in the Showa period.
He remembers how he decided to leave then, to go to new lands so that he could hide himself properly and stay away from the atrocities of the World Wars. Even as battle-hardened as he is from Sengoku itself, the time of the two World Wars never failed to send a chill down his spine-to see how once honorable battles have turned into nothing but killing sprees and senseless bloodshed only makes him feel disgust. It wasn’t easy keeping low during those times, but he had managed, and when he finally returned to Japan (for the name Hi-No-Moto was long gone) the millennium had already passed and the Heisei period was going strong.
And now here he was, returning to Sendai after years and years and still wondering if this had been the best thing to do as he climbs the stairs towards where the tomb of his master was. Tourists swarm all around him, all of them entranced by the beauty that the tomb possessed-as they should be; Koujurou was the one who designed this place after all (it was the only thing he could do, a last act to the lord he served and might perhaps never meet again). As much as a part of him loathes the fact that this holy place has been degraded to a tourist attraction, another part of him was glad, at least, that the place is kept well-maintained. And in a way it was good that it was a place of interest for others to visit, because that meant that the name of Date Masamune would never be forgotten even with the hundreds of years that have already passed.
The entrance is barred, so Koujurou forces himself to stop at the fence that bars him from stepping inside properly and all he can do is to gaze at the ornate doors that stand before him, to see the crest of the Date clan on those doors and to remember that just right beyond those doors lay his master’s cold, dead body.
Masamune-sama, he thinks, and he can’t help but notice how desperate he sounds-years and years of searching and wandering and still he is here, lost and forsaken by even the world itself. How much longer must I continue to wander this earth, before I finally can fulfil the promise we made? That was the only reason why he hadn’t gone insane even after all these years, why he was still making himself wander and seek even though he was so tired of it already. To find the one that mattered most to him, to seek him out again and finally meet him again…
Koujurou lowers his head down after that, shame and regret crossing his heart and mind. I, Koujurou, do not know just how much longer I can wait… I’ve already lost count of the years I’ve spent living, and I do not wish to start counting again. Because all counting did was to remind him painfully over the years he’s spent-the years he’s been failing to do in order to grant that dying promise.
Tired. He’s so tired with all of this, and now as he stands before the tomb of his master, Koujurou only yearns for nothing more than to see him again. See him, and finally reunite with him.
It’s the only thing that keeps him going even after all this time.
Please, Masamune-sama, let me see you again.
v. stepping upon the promise in that distant day.
The Zuihoden Mausoleum is known as one of the top attractions in modern-day Sendai-situated on the top of the hill known as Kyogamine, it has been the traditional resting place of the Date family ever since their first lord of the city fell. He was known as Date Masamune-the One Eyed Dragon, the dokuganryu. The first head of Sendai.
And more importantly, his master.
Centuries might have already passed since the day it was first completed, since the day this tomb was built in order to house the body of the one who had ruled the whole of Oshu with a strong will and an unmatchable power that even reached the heavens themselves. His lord was supposed to be invincible, to be that relentless dragon which would strike and attack all that was in his reach. But yet, because of him, because of his one mistake, he was now gone and dead and all that was remembered of him were books and tombs and statues.
He might be remembered, but he wasn’t alive-and that made all the difference to Koujurou. Remembering wasn’t the same as living; all he could do was to let the memories of the past play in his head again and again, every cycle of those memories only adding the guilt weighing down in his heart and soul. For so long has he tried to search around the world, but hundreds of years have already passed and still he cannot find him, in order to keep that promise which he made in his lord’s final moments.
Koujurou really doesn’t know what exactly brought him here, to return to this tomb; it’s been a long time since he last allowed himself to come here, before this place was revitalized and made into a tourist attraction that so many from all over come to visit now. Sometimes he feels outrage and anger boiling through him when he thinks about how such a sacred place was decimated for a purpose like this, but at the same time Koujurou knows that this is just one of the many things that has happened in the years that have gone by. The world that he lived in was now long gone, only told and remembered through books and pictures and re-enactments. He’s nothing but a clinging fragment of a world that had long since vanished from the face of this earth, somebody who’s been long forgotten by the world and time itself.
The history books have all written him as dead, having vanished in the days after his master’s death and never to be seen again. It only makes sense, really-for without his master to serve he is nothing more than a person who has no more purpose in his life. And for the Right Eye of the Dragon to have lost his dragon, he’s nothing more than a limb that’s been cut off and thrown away to die and rot.
But yet here he still lives, seeing the years flash by before his eyes as he watches the rise and fall of the Tokugawa shogunate, sees the uprising of the Meiji restoration before it starts to tumble down onto the Taisho period and then World War I happened. And as if that wasn’t enough, World War II soon followed in the Showa period.
He remembers how he decided to leave then, to go to new lands so that he could hide himself properly and stay away from the atrocities of the World Wars. Even as battle-hardened as he is from Sengoku itself, the time of the two World Wars never failed to send a chill down his spine-to see how once honorable battles have turned into nothing but killing sprees and senseless bloodshed only makes him feel disgust. It wasn’t easy keeping low during those times, but he had managed, and when he finally returned to Japan (for the name Hi-No-Moto was long gone) the millennium had already passed and the Heisei period was going strong.
And now here he was, returning to Sendai after years and years and still wondering if this had been the best thing to do as he climbs the stairs towards where the tomb of his master was. Tourists swarm all around him, all of them entranced by the beauty that the tomb possessed-as they should be; Koujurou was the one who designed this place after all (it was the only thing he could do, a last act to the lord he served and might perhaps never meet again). As much as a part of him loathes the fact that this holy place has been degraded to a tourist attraction, another part of him was glad, at least, that the place is kept well-maintained. And in a way it was good that it was a place of interest for others to visit, because that meant that the name of Date Masamune would never be forgotten even with the hundreds of years that have already passed.
The entrance is barred, so Koujurou forces himself to stop at the fence that bars him from stepping inside properly and all he can do is to gaze at the ornate doors that stand before him, to see the crest of the Date clan on those doors and to remember that just right beyond those doors lay his master’s cold, dead body.
Masamune-sama, he thinks, and he can’t help but notice how desperate he sounds-years and years of searching and wandering and still he is here, lost and forsaken by even the world itself. How much longer must I continue to wander this earth, before I finally can fulfil the promise we made? That was the only reason why he hadn’t gone insane even after all these years, why he was still making himself wander and seek even though he was so tired of it already. To find the one that mattered most to him, to seek him out again and finally meet him again…
Koujurou lowers his head down after that, shame and regret crossing his heart and mind. I, Koujurou, do not know just how much longer I can wait… I’ve already lost count of the years I’ve spent living, and I do not wish to start counting again. Because all counting did was to remind him painfully over the years he’s spent-the years he’s been failing to do in order to grant that dying promise.
Tired. He’s so tired with all of this, and now as he stands before the tomb of his master, Koujurou only yearns for nothing more than to see him again. See him, and finally reunite with him.
It’s the only thing that keeps him going even after all this time.
Please, Masamune-sama, let me see you again.