Adrift in the Waves [Oneshot, KumaYuuki]
Title: Adrift in the Waves
Pairing: KumaYuuki (Wada Takuma/Ogoe Yuuki)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/some violence, blood and slight gore, death; RPS.
Word Count: ~5300
Summary: A powerful samurai warrior tempts fate by saving an enemy's life.
Notes: Actually important for once! This fic was inspired by reading The Tale of the Heike and takes place during it. At that time, a war was going on between two warrior clans, the Minamoto (also known as the Genji) and the Taira (Heike). This story is based off a famous tale in the Heike, The Death of Atsumori.
I tried to write a little bit in the same style of the translation, which results in random cheesy poetry here and there and a lot of Buddhist didacticism and people crying into their sleeves :|
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Adrift in the Waves
Lord Wada no Jirō Takuma, the Bear of the North, charged into battle. He sent a flurry of arrows into the enemy ranks and was gratified to see a man fall for every arrow released. Bringing his horse alongside a strong-looking opponent, he threw him to the ground and quickly took his head. Fixing the head to his saddle, he remounted his horse and rejoined the fray.
The Taira were worthy opponents, and for every well-known warrior whose life Takuma claimed, one of his comrades was struck down by a Heike arrow or spear. Although the toll was great, the Genji had the advantage in numbers and the Heike were pushed steadily back. Soon enough Takuma’s forces had overrun one enemy commander’s troops, and after his head too had been taken and mounted on a retainer’s staff, Takuma wheeled his horse around and set off in search of further glories.
The Taira line had finally broken. Hundreds of warriors had abandoned their battles and their weapons and were fleeing. Only a few brave and loyal retainers fought on, hoping to trade their now-worthless lives for their masters’ safety. Takuma drew his horse to a halt and stared down at the battle, breathing in the rank odor of death that pervaded the air. He kicked his horse into a gallop and set off for the beach, where the dark boats of the Taira were floating grimly in, waiting to reclaim the few survivors that could swim out to them.
As he neared the beach, a lone rider plunged into the surf. Grinning darkly, Takuma set the last of his short hummingbulb arrows to his bow and sent it flying in a long arc to splash just in front of the rider. “Hold there,” he shouted, straining his already-hoarse voice to be heard over the crash of the waves. “Don’t you know it’s dishonorable to show your back to the enemy?”
The rider’s horse had startled at the sound of the arrow, and it took a moment before he was able to get it back under control. When he finally managed to get the horse turned around, he charged at him, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back. The rider’s arrow missed by a distance of two paces, but Takuma’s found its mark. The long shaft punched a hole through the flame-red lacing of his armor, passing through his shoulder. The rider fell off his horse with a cry. Takuma dismounted, drawing his sword in a long fluid motion and stepping into the surf. The rider struggled to his feet and attempted to draw his own sword, but eventually sank to his knees. Stopping before him, Takuma brought his sword up and pushed back his helmet in preparation to strike. Beneath the helmet was the face of a boy no more than seventeen or eighteen, with a small face and huge, cat-like eyes. He stayed his blade barely a hair’s breadth from the boy’s neck. “What is your name, brave young foe?” he asked softly, his warrior’s heart moved by the sight of the boy, who seemed almost young enough to be his son, kneeling before him.
“It matters not,” the boy said in a soft, melodic voice. “Hurry up and take my head, then ask another whose it is, if you wish.”
Takuma looked around and, seeing no other warriors nearby, sheathed his sword. “I do not want to kill you,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s head. His hair was soft, and not yet styled in the way of a fully-grown warrior. Takuma resisted the desire to run his hands through it as he would a woman or a pet.
“You must,” the boy cried sharply, pulling at Takuma’s legs. A wave crashed over them and the boy cried out in pain, but didn’t let go. “When you called out to me, you linked our fates. Running away from that now will only bring dishonor to both of us.”
His words resonated with Takuma on some level, but his heart was consumed with affection and pity for the young man, who seemed destined to die before his time. Reaching a decision, he once again drew his sword and struck several blows in quick succession.
The boy had closed his eyes and was reciting the name of Amida Buddha under his breath. Now he opened his eyes again, fixing Takuma with a stare of disbelief as his armor fell into the water and slid away like the glittering scales of a fish. Though he surely wanted to complain, he had no opportunity to as Takuma divested him of his remaining weapons and picked him up. He carried him back to his horse and mounted, keeping one hand on the reins and another around the boy’s waist to prevent him from making an escape. The boy remained perfectly still, shedding tears silently into his sleeve.
Takuma rode back over the plains and to the hills where the Genji army had been camped of late. Those who managed to capture a glimpse of him as his horse flew over the distance, faster than the wind, thought him accompanied by a heavenly maiden, hiding her face in modesty, and they said that surely the Bear of the North was accompanied by the goddess of victory. All those of the Minamoto rejoiced, and the Taira shrank from him in terror, their spirits broken.
He bypassed the remains of their camp and crashed through the underbrush until he reached a cave he had passed on the march to the battlefield. Scooping the boy gently into his arms, he carried him into the depths of the cave, binding his hands behind his body as he went. When the light had faded to obscurity, he set him down and secured him to a rock with a length of rope, being sure to bind his feet as well. “I’m off to present my trophies, but I’ll return to claim my prize before long,” he said, pressing a kiss lightly against his brow.
“Am I then to languish here,
Steeped in endless dusk,
‘til beasts feast on my bones?”
the boy spit at him.
“No doubt a bear will devour you
While your flesh yet remains,”
Takuma finished for him. Such crude words could only have come from a rough warrior brought up so far from the capital.
Returning to the site of the battle, Lord Wada presented the heads he had taken to the general, who rewarded him with many tracts of land, both in his home province of Kaga and the neighboring province of Echizen, as well as many fine garments. Someone told him of the rumor that he had been seen riding with a goddess, and while he laughed off such statements, he had many of his rewards discreetly taken to the nearby Hachiman shrine, with the directive that they were to be offerings to the god enshrined there, displaying a deep thankfulness for granting him such peerless luck in battle. Among the gifts he kept for himself were a long robe in a handsome chestnut color and a dark red women’s robe patterned with snow drops.
At this time, he also heard the tale of an enemy horse that, when approached, had seemed to melt into sea foam, leaving behind only a pouch that held a flute belonging to the son of one of the enemy commanders, a boy known as Taira no Tayū Atsumori. Vowing that the boy he had taken should not suffer the same fate to his steed, he contrived to steal this flute and return it to its rightful owner. No one else seemed to make the connection between Takuma’s “maiden” and Atsumori.
Drunk on victory and fine rice wine, he made the journey back to the cave. Along the way, he played a few rough notes on the boy’s flute. It occurred to him that if he were to keep the boy, as he planned, he would have to give him a new name, lest anyone suspect. He eventually settled on the appellation “Yuuki,” or “Shining Bravery,” after the courage the boy had shown in turning to face him although he was all but ensured of escape.
He stumbled into the cave with only a small torch for light. The flickering light lit the boy’s face with a ghostly hue. Nevertheless, he managed to lift his head at his approach and whisper a single poem.
“When I left the capital,
Sleeves soaked with tears,
How could I have known
That the music of beasts
Would soon be my sole comfort?”
His little face was very dear in the weak light, and Takuma kissed it tenderly before replying with a verse of his own.
“What does an animal know of music,
When in the far-off jeweled capital,
Music brighter than heaven’s light drifts?”
He untied the boy and presented him with his flute. The boy was so overjoyed to be reunited with his instrument that he shed tears at the sight of it. He was compelled to play a few tunes, and the skill with which he played moved Takuma to tears. Drying his eyes with his sleeve, he embraced the boy at the end of his performance. Covering him with a robe, he lay with him until the first beams of light drove away the overwhelming darkness that had enveloped the pair.
Blinking the dreams from his eyes, Lord Wada composed a poem, which he jotted down on rough paper and left for the boy. It read:
“Never have I known trees to flower so near the sea, but ah, what a blossom I have picked.”
When he awoke, the boy discovered the poem. Though it was quite loathsome, the words of a reply came unbidden to his lips.
“The lifespan of a blossom is short, it can exist no longer than the foam that rises on the waves.”
He cast himself to the ground and wept.
Takuma returned with a number of supplies. He tried to comfort the boy by offering him food, but he refused to eat. Undeterred, he conveyed upon him the robe he had received along with the name he had decided to give him. He announced his intention to take him back to his home in Kaga and keep him there, to which Yuuki could remain silent no longer.
“You intend to make a pet of me, then?” he demanded, dashing the robe to the ground. “How long will you continue to dishonor me?”
“I intend nothing of the sort! I am simply moved by the strong karmic tie between us. Having been tied together so closely in a previous life, it seems a shame for us two to separate. Moreover, had I taken your head as honor demanded, I surely should have doomed the both of us to suffer in hell for an age.” He gathered Yuuki into his arms and kissed him. Moved by his words, the boy assented to go to Kaga with him.
The army remained where it was for a time, preparing the necessary vessels and provisions to pursue the Heike. In that time, Lord Wada had many sets of clothes commissioned in extravagant patterns. Rumors began to circulate about his new lover, who was said to be anyone from a local woman to a Taira princess to an avatar of Kannon. Rather than encourage or discourage any of these, he kept silent on the subject. His retainers and fellow warriors wondered at it, but it was by no means unusual behavior.
Though he was still no doubt quite distressed over being captured in such a humiliating manner, Yuuki did not lack feeling for his captor. He delighted in the outfits prepared for him, until Lord Wada despaired of ever letting him walk free, lest some god looking down mistake him for a fellow divinity and spirit him off to heaven. He readily submitted to Takuma’s affections, and he cried very prettily when his lord was required to leave him. Although Takuma continued to bind him when he left, the boy gave no signs of wanting to escape.
When the time came to depart, Takuma arranged a palanquin to transport Yuuki to where the ships waited. Though he surely wanted nothing more than to retire to his country estate, he felt obligated to his lord to see the war to its end. He had agonized long over the decision, but he was loath to entrust so dear a prize to anyone else, and the thought of being separated from him was an abominable one.
Although it was a cloudless summer day, the sounds of thunder reverberated from far off. Yuuki pleaded with Takuma, saying that it was a bad omen. Although he begged to be sent ahead to Kaga, swearing every oath he could that he would not betray him, Takuma denied his request, saying that every battle could be his last and that he would not be separated from him. The thunder grew louder until they were nearly to the docks, at which point a bolt of lightning leapt from the heavens, striking the palanquin. Two retainers were killed immediately, and the palanquin was dashed against the rocks and burst into flame.
Heedless of his own safety, Takuma plunged into the inferno and pulled Yuuki from the flames, smothering the tongues of fire that leapt at them with his sleeves. Casting a baleful eye at the sky, he drew his sword and announced his name in a thunderous roar. “I am Wada no Jirō Takuma, who has already bested seven high-ranking commanders in battle, to say nothing of the myriad lesser warriors that have been felled by my might. If anyone dares challenge my rightful possession of this boy, let him meet me in single combat!” Yuuki clung to him and wept. Although the attacker was surely angered by his impertinent words, it perhaps thought better of challenging him and the ominous signs ceased. Lord Wada vowed that he would not be separated from Yuuki no matter what, no matter the cost to his life or honor. Although Yuuki realized that their lives were as good as forfeit, he was powerless to persuade his lord to give him up. To the contrary, it seemed every argument he made only served to endear him further to Lord Wada. The strength of a man’s attachment can be truly frightening.
To prevent the other warriors from seeing his prize, Lord Wada had arranged for his own ship, with a cabin meant for his and Yuuki’s private use. It was a splendid sight when he rode his magnificent steed onto the ship, his captive clinging charmingly to his arm. Although still upset from the earlier incident and wanting nothing more than to hurl himself into the sea, he seemed to recover when he was taken to his chamber. It seems that for the young prince, this return to some meager form of civilization inspired a slight happiness in him, so that he ate eagerly at mealtime and served Takuma with a rare devotion.
Although the voyage started favorably, on the third night, a dreadful storm arose. It occurred suddenly, while Lord Wada and his constant companion were out on deck. Yuuki had been entertaining him with some light flute music until the wind picked up, drowning out the music and flattening him against the deck. A giant hand of water seemed to reach up and pulled Takuma into the depths of the sea. Probably realizing that their fates were now inextricably linked, Yuuki dove in after him, managing to catch hold of the back of his armor.
They washed up on the shore of an unknown land. An immense palace rose before them, as imposing as any in the mortal capital. A warrior stood before them, clad in black armor with golden lacing. His face was entirely hidden beneath a massive helmet, and he was the height of three ordinary men. He bowed to them and gestured that they were to follow him. Takuma kept one arm around Yuuki and another on the hilt of his sword.
Their guide led them through a hall filled with golden statues larger than the Buddha of Todaiji in the shapes of frightening demons and divinities, and past shuttered hallways from which garish robes and fearsome voices protruded. Eventually they came to an open courtyard, filled with cherry trees blooming in an unnatural shade of blood red. They were taken before a set of blinds from behind which a booming voice issued.
“Wada no Jirō Takuma, you have neglected your duty and denied us one of our most anticipated subjects. Even so, you would challenge us to keep your ill-gained prize? Deliver him to us and your life will be spared and you will be returned to the human realm to live out your remaining days as you will. Fail to submit, and our warriors will tear you limb from limb, and you will be sacrificed daily on the field of battle ten thousand times a day for ten thousand years!”
It was thus that they knew they were in the court of the Ashura realm, where an endless battle rages among those whose deaths had been violent. Yuuki began to tremble, but Takuma placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. “Having rebelled this far against so-called destiny, how could I live if I were to give in now? Even should I fall in battle, no price is too great to pay to keep Yuuki out of your grasp for even a second longer,” he said boldly.
There was a cacophony of applause and jeers from an invisible audience. “Then you will die,” the voice commanded, and with that, an army materialized within the courtyard. Spinning to face them, Takuma drew his bow, sending a flurry of arrows into their midst. After ensuring that Yuuki was safely behind him, he drew his sword and dove into battle, slicing and hacking the enemy soldiers to death. For every one he slew, a new one sprang up; nevertheless, whenever he seemed to tire, he would glance back at Yuuki, and one look at his lovely face renewed his strength. Thus it was that he slew a number of warriors equal to that of the Genji and Heike armies combined. After a time, the number of warriors diminished and ceased to replenish itself.
When Takuma had finally slain the last of them, the mountain of corpses before him disappeared with a clap of thunder. Only the cherry trees with their glistening red petals remained. Takuma drew Yuuki toward him and embraced him. The blood soaked into his armor now stained Yuuki’s robe, and Yuuki reached up and brushed the sweat and grime away with his sleeve before kissing Takuma sweetly. The voice from before boomed out again. “You acquit yourself well in battle, lordling. But you will not find your next opponents so easy.”
A large pit opened and two awful serpents crawled out, with the faces of gorgeous women made hateful by their huge fangs and maddened expressions. Takuma swiftly pushed Yuuki back as they struck at him, parrying their dripping fangs with his battle-worn sword. His feet sunk deep into the blood-soaked earth as their combined force pushed him back. He managed to twist his sword around in a way that sent them flying over him, so that he was easily able to cut through their bellies. They writhed in the dirt, insides spilling from their bodies. As Takuma watched, the entrails began to float into the air and spin, until by some evil magic they transformed into a hideous white dragon with demonic purple eyes. The dragon opened its mouth to unleash a torrent of blue, water-like flame that washed over the ground, setting the long grasses ablaze. Takuma grabbed Yuuki by the hand and pulled him along behind him, but no matter where they ran, the fire pursued them, until they were trapped in a circle of impenetrable flames. The dragon launched itself at them, jaws outspread to devour them whole. Takuma attempted to parry it, but his sword was crushed to dust in the dragon’s teeth and he had no choice but to roll out of the way. He dashed toward the corpses of the snake-women, desperately searching for anything that he could use as a weapon.
From behind him, Yuuki gave a shout, and Takuma whipped around to see that the dragon had him cornered. Somehow Yuuki must have picked up his bow, which he had tossed aside in the first battle. The bow was nearly as tall as Yuuki, and it seemed impossible that so small a boy could shoot it. As he watched in horror, Yuuki made an inhuman effort to draw the bow, releasing the arrow in a perfect shot that punctured the monster’s eyeball, which exploded in a gush of silvery purple blood. The difficulty of the shot, however, meant that he had no time to avoid its attack, and its jaws shut around his body.
Beastly and human shrieks alike resounded as the beast thrashed, spraying a rain of blood into the air. Howling with rage, Takuma plunged his hand into the nearest serpent’s chest cavity and ripped out its diamond spine, which he hurled at the dragon as if it were a spear. It plunged through the dragon’s skull, sending it reeling insensibly through the air. It flew toward the heavens at an impossible speed until the life left it and it crashed back to earth with one final cry.
Takuma tore the spine from the other serpent, which reformed itself into a sword in his hand, and immediately ran to Yuuki’s side. The dragon seemed to have destroyed his right arm, the bones reduced to nothing but splinters. The roiling flames died down as he cradled the boy in his arms, sobbing in rage. Yuuki’s beautiful face was wracked with pain and every slight movement made him cry out with pain, but he managed to bring his good hand up to cradle Takuma’s face. “I’m so, so sorry,” he gasped before falling into a state of unconsciousness from which Takuma knew he’d never wake. The tears fell unrestrainedly from his eyes as he gently set Yuuki’s body down and got up. He let the tears flow freely for a moment before wiping them away and shifting his grip on the sword. His mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of revenge, and a cool haze overtook his mind as he launched himself at the blinds behind which the demon that had made that monster attack his beloved awaited.
The black-armored guardian that had led them to this courtyard of death moved to intercept him. Though it was big, it was by no means slow, and he barely managed to avoid a strike from a club larger than he was. The sound of it smashing into the ground alone would have been enough to fracture a lesser man’s skull; as it was, Takuma was caught off balance and fell to his knees. He rolled out from under the next sweeping strike and stabbed desperately at its knee. Though the creature made no recognizable sound of pain, the blow slowed its movement enough that he was able to scramble to his feet and dash around behind it. Before it could turn, he slashed viciously at its back, driving it to its knees, at which point he sprung onto the warrior and claimed its head with a decisive blow. He tossed the head with its luminous red eyes to the dirt and stamped on it, shouting in triumph and hatred.
A violent gust of wind blew through the courtyard, bringing with it an almost unbearable stench of ashes and carnage. The blinds rattled and flew up, and Takuma clearly saw that no corporeal being waited behind them. The booming voice now filled the entire courtyard, seeming to issue from both far and near. “You dare kill my servant, you insolent human?” it hissed.
“I’d kill him ten thousand times over, and you as well, if it would bring my Yuuki back to life,” Takuma snarled back.
“Ah, but the so-called Yuuki yet lives,” the voice said, sounding suddenly softer and farther away. Takuma turned around slowly. Yuuki stood a ways away, staring blankly at the ground. His once opulent robes were shredded and bloody, with the right sleeve entirely missing, leaving his mangled and useless arm exposed. Shards of his beloved flute, shattered in the dragon’s attack, poked out from the pouch around his waist. His sandals had fallen off or burned, and now he walked unsteadily forward through the thick mud of the battlefield on bare feet. Trickles of blood ran ceaselessly down his face. He clasped a short dagger in his left hand. As he got closer, he slowly raised his head to stare at Takuma. His eyes flashed the same luminous red of the black warrior, and his mouth split into a demon’s grin. “It is you who will die first!” he shrieked, in a hellish combination of Yuuki’s sweet voice and the demon’s harsh tones, and flew at him.
Takuma’s mind was paralyzed with horror and grief, but he managed to parry the blow on sheer instinct. He automatically fell back in position to strike a counterblow, but as Yuuki paused before him, eyes filled with fear and desperation, he found he could not attack him. This was merely one of the demon’s ruses, for as he hesitated, his eyes once again took on an evil cast, and he cut a slice into Takuma’s armor with a wicked laugh. “It will serve you right to die at the hands of the boy you ought to have killed and delivered to me.”
It chopped at him, faster and faster, clearly toying with him. It sometimes allowed him to parry his strikes, other times slipping beneath his guard to cut a bloody stripe into his arm or chest. Though his black blade cut with a cruel sharpness, nothing hurt Takuma more than the glancing blows he accidentally landed on Yuuki. Though he seemed to take no notice of them and made no efforts to deflect them, the lines of red cutting across his beautiful white skin wounded Takuma in a way that the blows to his body, an abuse he was long used to, failed to. He wasn’t sure if Yuuki’s movements were beginning to slow because his body’s strength was fading, or because the demon was deliberately matching Takuma’s own flagging pace. He was tired from the previous battles and unwilling to fight in earnest, and it seemed it would be only a matter of time before the demon inside Yuuki killed him. His eyes swelled with tears, and as much as he loved Yuuki, his only regret was that he hadn’t sent him safely to Kaga when he had begged him to and had instead condemned him to such pain and misery.
At last the demon battered the sword out of his hands and kicked him to the ground. He rolled over and lay still, breathing heavily. He was bleeding from a number of gashes, both shallow and deep, and his vision was starting to fail. Nevertheless, the knowledge of his certain death gave him a new calmness and strength, and he began to chant Amida’s name.
The demon seemed to falter before these Buddhist devotions, and in that instant, Yuuki’s ruined arm seemed to twitch. Watching him intently, Takuma renewed his prayers, chanting them in a high clear tone. Yuuki’s hand dipped into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a sharp fragment of wood. He brought it carefully to his chest and plunged it in. The demonic side didn’t seem to notice and continued to advance more cautiously on Takuma, until it became obvious that Yuuki was carving Amida’s name into his body. It plunged the dagger into Yuuki’s shoulder and cut down, leading Yuuki - the real Yuuki - to scream in pain. His right arm fell limp once again, but Takuma had already snatched up his sword again. Even as the demon turned to face him again, he lunged to cut the final line of the final character into his chest. The demon’s strike was high, cutting deeply into Takuma’s cheek; as Takuma pulled out of his slice, the characters etched in Yuuki’s skin glowed with a holy purity. In an instant the demon had been driven out, leaving only the scent of carrion carried by the breeze. Yuuki fell to his knees and immediately Takuma swept him into his arms, weeping openly. The tears splashed down onto Yuuki’s face and he stirred briefly, opening his eyes long enough to fix Takuma with his usual catlike gaze and murmur
“It seems to be my fate to die at sea after all. But oh, that I should drown in an ocean of tears.”
In response, Takuma choked out,
“I thought to rescue you from drowning, but alas, you have already slipped into the unfathomable depths.”
As he recited the last line, Yuuki’s head fell forward and he breathed his last.
Transfixed by grief, Takuma wept silently. As if in a trance, he got to his feet and picked up the sword, the spear, and the dagger, securing them about himself before returning to Yuuki’s side. His face was calm in death, and every bit as beautiful as it had been in life, even covered in blood and dirt. It was heartbreaking to think that his death would keep him confined to this realm. Takuma carefully lifted his body and returned to the shore they had washed up on. He waded into the water until the waves closed over his head.
When he next awoke, he was lying on the deck of his ship. A retainer was in the process of bandaging his wounds, and he gave a shout when he saw him stir, gathering the immediate attention of the rest of the crew. Takuma tried to sit up, but the pain seemed to be multiplied a hundredfold what it had been in the Ashura realm. When he could get words out, he immediately asked after Yuuki. An attendant reported that he had been the only one pulled out of the sea. With sinking spirits, Takuma realized that the only proper thing to do would be to take vows and devote himself to praying for Yuuki’s salvation. He gave the order to reverse the boat.
When they reached land, they hastened towards the capital, but stopped by many shrines on the way, where Takuma would pray and commission rites to be said. When they reached the jeweled capital, Takuma’s last acts in the mundane world were to deliver the sword as a gift to the emperor and to send the spear on to the Kamakura Lord as a trophy. The dagger he dedicated to the Enryakuji temple on the occasion of his becoming a monk. All the wealth he had formerly possessed was either given as a ceremonial gift to the monks who gave him his vows or sent to temples far and wide so that merit would be accrued. Takuma had vowed to dedicate whatever merit he might gain from his ascetic practices to ensuring that Yuuki might yet be reborn into the human realm and achieve enlightenment. Although selfish prayers that promote only the binding ties of attachment are to be abhorred, it is true that the former Lord Wada owed a significant karma debt to the boy of the Taira clan for saving his life and allowing him to set foot on the path to enlightenment, so his actions were perfectly reasonable.
It is said that thanks to his prayers, Yuuki was eventually saved from the Ashura realm and, in time, they were both reborn in the Pure Land.
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Opening quote is a poem from the "A Drifting Boat" chapter of The Tale of Genji. Comments and thoughts of all sorts welcome!
Pairing: KumaYuuki (Wada Takuma/Ogoe Yuuki)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/some violence, blood and slight gore, death; RPS.
Word Count: ~5300
Summary: A powerful samurai warrior tempts fate by saving an enemy's life.
Notes: Actually important for once! This fic was inspired by reading The Tale of the Heike and takes place during it. At that time, a war was going on between two warrior clans, the Minamoto (also known as the Genji) and the Taira (Heike). This story is based off a famous tale in the Heike, The Death of Atsumori.
I tried to write a little bit in the same style of the translation, which results in random cheesy poetry here and there and a lot of Buddhist didacticism and people crying into their sleeves :|
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Adrift in the Waves
Lord Wada no Jirō Takuma, the Bear of the North, charged into battle. He sent a flurry of arrows into the enemy ranks and was gratified to see a man fall for every arrow released. Bringing his horse alongside a strong-looking opponent, he threw him to the ground and quickly took his head. Fixing the head to his saddle, he remounted his horse and rejoined the fray.
The Taira were worthy opponents, and for every well-known warrior whose life Takuma claimed, one of his comrades was struck down by a Heike arrow or spear. Although the toll was great, the Genji had the advantage in numbers and the Heike were pushed steadily back. Soon enough Takuma’s forces had overrun one enemy commander’s troops, and after his head too had been taken and mounted on a retainer’s staff, Takuma wheeled his horse around and set off in search of further glories.
The Taira line had finally broken. Hundreds of warriors had abandoned their battles and their weapons and were fleeing. Only a few brave and loyal retainers fought on, hoping to trade their now-worthless lives for their masters’ safety. Takuma drew his horse to a halt and stared down at the battle, breathing in the rank odor of death that pervaded the air. He kicked his horse into a gallop and set off for the beach, where the dark boats of the Taira were floating grimly in, waiting to reclaim the few survivors that could swim out to them.
As he neared the beach, a lone rider plunged into the surf. Grinning darkly, Takuma set the last of his short hummingbulb arrows to his bow and sent it flying in a long arc to splash just in front of the rider. “Hold there,” he shouted, straining his already-hoarse voice to be heard over the crash of the waves. “Don’t you know it’s dishonorable to show your back to the enemy?”
The rider’s horse had startled at the sound of the arrow, and it took a moment before he was able to get it back under control. When he finally managed to get the horse turned around, he charged at him, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back. The rider’s arrow missed by a distance of two paces, but Takuma’s found its mark. The long shaft punched a hole through the flame-red lacing of his armor, passing through his shoulder. The rider fell off his horse with a cry. Takuma dismounted, drawing his sword in a long fluid motion and stepping into the surf. The rider struggled to his feet and attempted to draw his own sword, but eventually sank to his knees. Stopping before him, Takuma brought his sword up and pushed back his helmet in preparation to strike. Beneath the helmet was the face of a boy no more than seventeen or eighteen, with a small face and huge, cat-like eyes. He stayed his blade barely a hair’s breadth from the boy’s neck. “What is your name, brave young foe?” he asked softly, his warrior’s heart moved by the sight of the boy, who seemed almost young enough to be his son, kneeling before him.
“It matters not,” the boy said in a soft, melodic voice. “Hurry up and take my head, then ask another whose it is, if you wish.”
Takuma looked around and, seeing no other warriors nearby, sheathed his sword. “I do not want to kill you,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s head. His hair was soft, and not yet styled in the way of a fully-grown warrior. Takuma resisted the desire to run his hands through it as he would a woman or a pet.
“You must,” the boy cried sharply, pulling at Takuma’s legs. A wave crashed over them and the boy cried out in pain, but didn’t let go. “When you called out to me, you linked our fates. Running away from that now will only bring dishonor to both of us.”
His words resonated with Takuma on some level, but his heart was consumed with affection and pity for the young man, who seemed destined to die before his time. Reaching a decision, he once again drew his sword and struck several blows in quick succession.
The boy had closed his eyes and was reciting the name of Amida Buddha under his breath. Now he opened his eyes again, fixing Takuma with a stare of disbelief as his armor fell into the water and slid away like the glittering scales of a fish. Though he surely wanted to complain, he had no opportunity to as Takuma divested him of his remaining weapons and picked him up. He carried him back to his horse and mounted, keeping one hand on the reins and another around the boy’s waist to prevent him from making an escape. The boy remained perfectly still, shedding tears silently into his sleeve.
Takuma rode back over the plains and to the hills where the Genji army had been camped of late. Those who managed to capture a glimpse of him as his horse flew over the distance, faster than the wind, thought him accompanied by a heavenly maiden, hiding her face in modesty, and they said that surely the Bear of the North was accompanied by the goddess of victory. All those of the Minamoto rejoiced, and the Taira shrank from him in terror, their spirits broken.
He bypassed the remains of their camp and crashed through the underbrush until he reached a cave he had passed on the march to the battlefield. Scooping the boy gently into his arms, he carried him into the depths of the cave, binding his hands behind his body as he went. When the light had faded to obscurity, he set him down and secured him to a rock with a length of rope, being sure to bind his feet as well. “I’m off to present my trophies, but I’ll return to claim my prize before long,” he said, pressing a kiss lightly against his brow.
“Am I then to languish here,
Steeped in endless dusk,
‘til beasts feast on my bones?”
the boy spit at him.
“No doubt a bear will devour you
While your flesh yet remains,”
Takuma finished for him. Such crude words could only have come from a rough warrior brought up so far from the capital.
Returning to the site of the battle, Lord Wada presented the heads he had taken to the general, who rewarded him with many tracts of land, both in his home province of Kaga and the neighboring province of Echizen, as well as many fine garments. Someone told him of the rumor that he had been seen riding with a goddess, and while he laughed off such statements, he had many of his rewards discreetly taken to the nearby Hachiman shrine, with the directive that they were to be offerings to the god enshrined there, displaying a deep thankfulness for granting him such peerless luck in battle. Among the gifts he kept for himself were a long robe in a handsome chestnut color and a dark red women’s robe patterned with snow drops.
At this time, he also heard the tale of an enemy horse that, when approached, had seemed to melt into sea foam, leaving behind only a pouch that held a flute belonging to the son of one of the enemy commanders, a boy known as Taira no Tayū Atsumori. Vowing that the boy he had taken should not suffer the same fate to his steed, he contrived to steal this flute and return it to its rightful owner. No one else seemed to make the connection between Takuma’s “maiden” and Atsumori.
Drunk on victory and fine rice wine, he made the journey back to the cave. Along the way, he played a few rough notes on the boy’s flute. It occurred to him that if he were to keep the boy, as he planned, he would have to give him a new name, lest anyone suspect. He eventually settled on the appellation “Yuuki,” or “Shining Bravery,” after the courage the boy had shown in turning to face him although he was all but ensured of escape.
He stumbled into the cave with only a small torch for light. The flickering light lit the boy’s face with a ghostly hue. Nevertheless, he managed to lift his head at his approach and whisper a single poem.
“When I left the capital,
Sleeves soaked with tears,
How could I have known
That the music of beasts
Would soon be my sole comfort?”
His little face was very dear in the weak light, and Takuma kissed it tenderly before replying with a verse of his own.
“What does an animal know of music,
When in the far-off jeweled capital,
Music brighter than heaven’s light drifts?”
He untied the boy and presented him with his flute. The boy was so overjoyed to be reunited with his instrument that he shed tears at the sight of it. He was compelled to play a few tunes, and the skill with which he played moved Takuma to tears. Drying his eyes with his sleeve, he embraced the boy at the end of his performance. Covering him with a robe, he lay with him until the first beams of light drove away the overwhelming darkness that had enveloped the pair.
Blinking the dreams from his eyes, Lord Wada composed a poem, which he jotted down on rough paper and left for the boy. It read:
“Never have I known trees to flower so near the sea, but ah, what a blossom I have picked.”
When he awoke, the boy discovered the poem. Though it was quite loathsome, the words of a reply came unbidden to his lips.
“The lifespan of a blossom is short, it can exist no longer than the foam that rises on the waves.”
He cast himself to the ground and wept.
Takuma returned with a number of supplies. He tried to comfort the boy by offering him food, but he refused to eat. Undeterred, he conveyed upon him the robe he had received along with the name he had decided to give him. He announced his intention to take him back to his home in Kaga and keep him there, to which Yuuki could remain silent no longer.
“You intend to make a pet of me, then?” he demanded, dashing the robe to the ground. “How long will you continue to dishonor me?”
“I intend nothing of the sort! I am simply moved by the strong karmic tie between us. Having been tied together so closely in a previous life, it seems a shame for us two to separate. Moreover, had I taken your head as honor demanded, I surely should have doomed the both of us to suffer in hell for an age.” He gathered Yuuki into his arms and kissed him. Moved by his words, the boy assented to go to Kaga with him.
The army remained where it was for a time, preparing the necessary vessels and provisions to pursue the Heike. In that time, Lord Wada had many sets of clothes commissioned in extravagant patterns. Rumors began to circulate about his new lover, who was said to be anyone from a local woman to a Taira princess to an avatar of Kannon. Rather than encourage or discourage any of these, he kept silent on the subject. His retainers and fellow warriors wondered at it, but it was by no means unusual behavior.
Though he was still no doubt quite distressed over being captured in such a humiliating manner, Yuuki did not lack feeling for his captor. He delighted in the outfits prepared for him, until Lord Wada despaired of ever letting him walk free, lest some god looking down mistake him for a fellow divinity and spirit him off to heaven. He readily submitted to Takuma’s affections, and he cried very prettily when his lord was required to leave him. Although Takuma continued to bind him when he left, the boy gave no signs of wanting to escape.
When the time came to depart, Takuma arranged a palanquin to transport Yuuki to where the ships waited. Though he surely wanted nothing more than to retire to his country estate, he felt obligated to his lord to see the war to its end. He had agonized long over the decision, but he was loath to entrust so dear a prize to anyone else, and the thought of being separated from him was an abominable one.
Although it was a cloudless summer day, the sounds of thunder reverberated from far off. Yuuki pleaded with Takuma, saying that it was a bad omen. Although he begged to be sent ahead to Kaga, swearing every oath he could that he would not betray him, Takuma denied his request, saying that every battle could be his last and that he would not be separated from him. The thunder grew louder until they were nearly to the docks, at which point a bolt of lightning leapt from the heavens, striking the palanquin. Two retainers were killed immediately, and the palanquin was dashed against the rocks and burst into flame.
Heedless of his own safety, Takuma plunged into the inferno and pulled Yuuki from the flames, smothering the tongues of fire that leapt at them with his sleeves. Casting a baleful eye at the sky, he drew his sword and announced his name in a thunderous roar. “I am Wada no Jirō Takuma, who has already bested seven high-ranking commanders in battle, to say nothing of the myriad lesser warriors that have been felled by my might. If anyone dares challenge my rightful possession of this boy, let him meet me in single combat!” Yuuki clung to him and wept. Although the attacker was surely angered by his impertinent words, it perhaps thought better of challenging him and the ominous signs ceased. Lord Wada vowed that he would not be separated from Yuuki no matter what, no matter the cost to his life or honor. Although Yuuki realized that their lives were as good as forfeit, he was powerless to persuade his lord to give him up. To the contrary, it seemed every argument he made only served to endear him further to Lord Wada. The strength of a man’s attachment can be truly frightening.
To prevent the other warriors from seeing his prize, Lord Wada had arranged for his own ship, with a cabin meant for his and Yuuki’s private use. It was a splendid sight when he rode his magnificent steed onto the ship, his captive clinging charmingly to his arm. Although still upset from the earlier incident and wanting nothing more than to hurl himself into the sea, he seemed to recover when he was taken to his chamber. It seems that for the young prince, this return to some meager form of civilization inspired a slight happiness in him, so that he ate eagerly at mealtime and served Takuma with a rare devotion.
Although the voyage started favorably, on the third night, a dreadful storm arose. It occurred suddenly, while Lord Wada and his constant companion were out on deck. Yuuki had been entertaining him with some light flute music until the wind picked up, drowning out the music and flattening him against the deck. A giant hand of water seemed to reach up and pulled Takuma into the depths of the sea. Probably realizing that their fates were now inextricably linked, Yuuki dove in after him, managing to catch hold of the back of his armor.
They washed up on the shore of an unknown land. An immense palace rose before them, as imposing as any in the mortal capital. A warrior stood before them, clad in black armor with golden lacing. His face was entirely hidden beneath a massive helmet, and he was the height of three ordinary men. He bowed to them and gestured that they were to follow him. Takuma kept one arm around Yuuki and another on the hilt of his sword.
Their guide led them through a hall filled with golden statues larger than the Buddha of Todaiji in the shapes of frightening demons and divinities, and past shuttered hallways from which garish robes and fearsome voices protruded. Eventually they came to an open courtyard, filled with cherry trees blooming in an unnatural shade of blood red. They were taken before a set of blinds from behind which a booming voice issued.
“Wada no Jirō Takuma, you have neglected your duty and denied us one of our most anticipated subjects. Even so, you would challenge us to keep your ill-gained prize? Deliver him to us and your life will be spared and you will be returned to the human realm to live out your remaining days as you will. Fail to submit, and our warriors will tear you limb from limb, and you will be sacrificed daily on the field of battle ten thousand times a day for ten thousand years!”
It was thus that they knew they were in the court of the Ashura realm, where an endless battle rages among those whose deaths had been violent. Yuuki began to tremble, but Takuma placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. “Having rebelled this far against so-called destiny, how could I live if I were to give in now? Even should I fall in battle, no price is too great to pay to keep Yuuki out of your grasp for even a second longer,” he said boldly.
There was a cacophony of applause and jeers from an invisible audience. “Then you will die,” the voice commanded, and with that, an army materialized within the courtyard. Spinning to face them, Takuma drew his bow, sending a flurry of arrows into their midst. After ensuring that Yuuki was safely behind him, he drew his sword and dove into battle, slicing and hacking the enemy soldiers to death. For every one he slew, a new one sprang up; nevertheless, whenever he seemed to tire, he would glance back at Yuuki, and one look at his lovely face renewed his strength. Thus it was that he slew a number of warriors equal to that of the Genji and Heike armies combined. After a time, the number of warriors diminished and ceased to replenish itself.
When Takuma had finally slain the last of them, the mountain of corpses before him disappeared with a clap of thunder. Only the cherry trees with their glistening red petals remained. Takuma drew Yuuki toward him and embraced him. The blood soaked into his armor now stained Yuuki’s robe, and Yuuki reached up and brushed the sweat and grime away with his sleeve before kissing Takuma sweetly. The voice from before boomed out again. “You acquit yourself well in battle, lordling. But you will not find your next opponents so easy.”
A large pit opened and two awful serpents crawled out, with the faces of gorgeous women made hateful by their huge fangs and maddened expressions. Takuma swiftly pushed Yuuki back as they struck at him, parrying their dripping fangs with his battle-worn sword. His feet sunk deep into the blood-soaked earth as their combined force pushed him back. He managed to twist his sword around in a way that sent them flying over him, so that he was easily able to cut through their bellies. They writhed in the dirt, insides spilling from their bodies. As Takuma watched, the entrails began to float into the air and spin, until by some evil magic they transformed into a hideous white dragon with demonic purple eyes. The dragon opened its mouth to unleash a torrent of blue, water-like flame that washed over the ground, setting the long grasses ablaze. Takuma grabbed Yuuki by the hand and pulled him along behind him, but no matter where they ran, the fire pursued them, until they were trapped in a circle of impenetrable flames. The dragon launched itself at them, jaws outspread to devour them whole. Takuma attempted to parry it, but his sword was crushed to dust in the dragon’s teeth and he had no choice but to roll out of the way. He dashed toward the corpses of the snake-women, desperately searching for anything that he could use as a weapon.
From behind him, Yuuki gave a shout, and Takuma whipped around to see that the dragon had him cornered. Somehow Yuuki must have picked up his bow, which he had tossed aside in the first battle. The bow was nearly as tall as Yuuki, and it seemed impossible that so small a boy could shoot it. As he watched in horror, Yuuki made an inhuman effort to draw the bow, releasing the arrow in a perfect shot that punctured the monster’s eyeball, which exploded in a gush of silvery purple blood. The difficulty of the shot, however, meant that he had no time to avoid its attack, and its jaws shut around his body.
Beastly and human shrieks alike resounded as the beast thrashed, spraying a rain of blood into the air. Howling with rage, Takuma plunged his hand into the nearest serpent’s chest cavity and ripped out its diamond spine, which he hurled at the dragon as if it were a spear. It plunged through the dragon’s skull, sending it reeling insensibly through the air. It flew toward the heavens at an impossible speed until the life left it and it crashed back to earth with one final cry.
Takuma tore the spine from the other serpent, which reformed itself into a sword in his hand, and immediately ran to Yuuki’s side. The dragon seemed to have destroyed his right arm, the bones reduced to nothing but splinters. The roiling flames died down as he cradled the boy in his arms, sobbing in rage. Yuuki’s beautiful face was wracked with pain and every slight movement made him cry out with pain, but he managed to bring his good hand up to cradle Takuma’s face. “I’m so, so sorry,” he gasped before falling into a state of unconsciousness from which Takuma knew he’d never wake. The tears fell unrestrainedly from his eyes as he gently set Yuuki’s body down and got up. He let the tears flow freely for a moment before wiping them away and shifting his grip on the sword. His mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of revenge, and a cool haze overtook his mind as he launched himself at the blinds behind which the demon that had made that monster attack his beloved awaited.
The black-armored guardian that had led them to this courtyard of death moved to intercept him. Though it was big, it was by no means slow, and he barely managed to avoid a strike from a club larger than he was. The sound of it smashing into the ground alone would have been enough to fracture a lesser man’s skull; as it was, Takuma was caught off balance and fell to his knees. He rolled out from under the next sweeping strike and stabbed desperately at its knee. Though the creature made no recognizable sound of pain, the blow slowed its movement enough that he was able to scramble to his feet and dash around behind it. Before it could turn, he slashed viciously at its back, driving it to its knees, at which point he sprung onto the warrior and claimed its head with a decisive blow. He tossed the head with its luminous red eyes to the dirt and stamped on it, shouting in triumph and hatred.
A violent gust of wind blew through the courtyard, bringing with it an almost unbearable stench of ashes and carnage. The blinds rattled and flew up, and Takuma clearly saw that no corporeal being waited behind them. The booming voice now filled the entire courtyard, seeming to issue from both far and near. “You dare kill my servant, you insolent human?” it hissed.
“I’d kill him ten thousand times over, and you as well, if it would bring my Yuuki back to life,” Takuma snarled back.
“Ah, but the so-called Yuuki yet lives,” the voice said, sounding suddenly softer and farther away. Takuma turned around slowly. Yuuki stood a ways away, staring blankly at the ground. His once opulent robes were shredded and bloody, with the right sleeve entirely missing, leaving his mangled and useless arm exposed. Shards of his beloved flute, shattered in the dragon’s attack, poked out from the pouch around his waist. His sandals had fallen off or burned, and now he walked unsteadily forward through the thick mud of the battlefield on bare feet. Trickles of blood ran ceaselessly down his face. He clasped a short dagger in his left hand. As he got closer, he slowly raised his head to stare at Takuma. His eyes flashed the same luminous red of the black warrior, and his mouth split into a demon’s grin. “It is you who will die first!” he shrieked, in a hellish combination of Yuuki’s sweet voice and the demon’s harsh tones, and flew at him.
Takuma’s mind was paralyzed with horror and grief, but he managed to parry the blow on sheer instinct. He automatically fell back in position to strike a counterblow, but as Yuuki paused before him, eyes filled with fear and desperation, he found he could not attack him. This was merely one of the demon’s ruses, for as he hesitated, his eyes once again took on an evil cast, and he cut a slice into Takuma’s armor with a wicked laugh. “It will serve you right to die at the hands of the boy you ought to have killed and delivered to me.”
It chopped at him, faster and faster, clearly toying with him. It sometimes allowed him to parry his strikes, other times slipping beneath his guard to cut a bloody stripe into his arm or chest. Though his black blade cut with a cruel sharpness, nothing hurt Takuma more than the glancing blows he accidentally landed on Yuuki. Though he seemed to take no notice of them and made no efforts to deflect them, the lines of red cutting across his beautiful white skin wounded Takuma in a way that the blows to his body, an abuse he was long used to, failed to. He wasn’t sure if Yuuki’s movements were beginning to slow because his body’s strength was fading, or because the demon was deliberately matching Takuma’s own flagging pace. He was tired from the previous battles and unwilling to fight in earnest, and it seemed it would be only a matter of time before the demon inside Yuuki killed him. His eyes swelled with tears, and as much as he loved Yuuki, his only regret was that he hadn’t sent him safely to Kaga when he had begged him to and had instead condemned him to such pain and misery.
At last the demon battered the sword out of his hands and kicked him to the ground. He rolled over and lay still, breathing heavily. He was bleeding from a number of gashes, both shallow and deep, and his vision was starting to fail. Nevertheless, the knowledge of his certain death gave him a new calmness and strength, and he began to chant Amida’s name.
The demon seemed to falter before these Buddhist devotions, and in that instant, Yuuki’s ruined arm seemed to twitch. Watching him intently, Takuma renewed his prayers, chanting them in a high clear tone. Yuuki’s hand dipped into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a sharp fragment of wood. He brought it carefully to his chest and plunged it in. The demonic side didn’t seem to notice and continued to advance more cautiously on Takuma, until it became obvious that Yuuki was carving Amida’s name into his body. It plunged the dagger into Yuuki’s shoulder and cut down, leading Yuuki - the real Yuuki - to scream in pain. His right arm fell limp once again, but Takuma had already snatched up his sword again. Even as the demon turned to face him again, he lunged to cut the final line of the final character into his chest. The demon’s strike was high, cutting deeply into Takuma’s cheek; as Takuma pulled out of his slice, the characters etched in Yuuki’s skin glowed with a holy purity. In an instant the demon had been driven out, leaving only the scent of carrion carried by the breeze. Yuuki fell to his knees and immediately Takuma swept him into his arms, weeping openly. The tears splashed down onto Yuuki’s face and he stirred briefly, opening his eyes long enough to fix Takuma with his usual catlike gaze and murmur
“It seems to be my fate to die at sea after all. But oh, that I should drown in an ocean of tears.”
In response, Takuma choked out,
“I thought to rescue you from drowning, but alas, you have already slipped into the unfathomable depths.”
As he recited the last line, Yuuki’s head fell forward and he breathed his last.
Transfixed by grief, Takuma wept silently. As if in a trance, he got to his feet and picked up the sword, the spear, and the dagger, securing them about himself before returning to Yuuki’s side. His face was calm in death, and every bit as beautiful as it had been in life, even covered in blood and dirt. It was heartbreaking to think that his death would keep him confined to this realm. Takuma carefully lifted his body and returned to the shore they had washed up on. He waded into the water until the waves closed over his head.
When he next awoke, he was lying on the deck of his ship. A retainer was in the process of bandaging his wounds, and he gave a shout when he saw him stir, gathering the immediate attention of the rest of the crew. Takuma tried to sit up, but the pain seemed to be multiplied a hundredfold what it had been in the Ashura realm. When he could get words out, he immediately asked after Yuuki. An attendant reported that he had been the only one pulled out of the sea. With sinking spirits, Takuma realized that the only proper thing to do would be to take vows and devote himself to praying for Yuuki’s salvation. He gave the order to reverse the boat.
When they reached land, they hastened towards the capital, but stopped by many shrines on the way, where Takuma would pray and commission rites to be said. When they reached the jeweled capital, Takuma’s last acts in the mundane world were to deliver the sword as a gift to the emperor and to send the spear on to the Kamakura Lord as a trophy. The dagger he dedicated to the Enryakuji temple on the occasion of his becoming a monk. All the wealth he had formerly possessed was either given as a ceremonial gift to the monks who gave him his vows or sent to temples far and wide so that merit would be accrued. Takuma had vowed to dedicate whatever merit he might gain from his ascetic practices to ensuring that Yuuki might yet be reborn into the human realm and achieve enlightenment. Although selfish prayers that promote only the binding ties of attachment are to be abhorred, it is true that the former Lord Wada owed a significant karma debt to the boy of the Taira clan for saving his life and allowing him to set foot on the path to enlightenment, so his actions were perfectly reasonable.
It is said that thanks to his prayers, Yuuki was eventually saved from the Ashura realm and, in time, they were both reborn in the Pure Land.
--
Opening quote is a poem from the "A Drifting Boat" chapter of The Tale of Genji. Comments and thoughts of all sorts welcome!