#18- goodbye
Written for warriorsslash_50
Theme: #18- goodbye
Rating: PG?
Pairings: None [Motochika/Mitsunari if you squint really hard]
Warnings: NPC death, Flask sharing (aka swapping spit, indirect kiss, however you want to see it), Mitsunari giving a shit about someone else, uploaded at three o'clock in the morning.
Notes: Kokia’s “Time to Say Goodbye” is such an amazing song. [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MI6vSnLx7NI&feature=related]
~~~~
Life, happiness… change, sadness and death; all was a part of being thrown into the creation of history and the waves of destiny. Gripping his weapon was all he could do, but even then he didn’t feel any more powerless than if he had been surrounded by faithful retainers instead of out in the open, vulnerable and alone. If it was his time to go, then so be it. Fight to the bitter end he while he was still alive and quietly go when it was time for his life to end: so he promised himself the very first day Shikoku and its people was left in his hands. He had decided he would have no regrets and no remorse when that time came, but he couldn’t help but be saddened by the idea that he would never see his son again.
The inevitable shots were fired. As if the heavens had heard what were to be his final thoughts and decided to play a cruel game with him, in an instant, Nobuchika was there. His face couldn’t be seen but there was no doubting the crest on the back of his attire. Five times .At least five times the bullets pierced through him within a matter of a minute. But as he stumbled forward on one knee, finally collapsing on the ground before him, it only took an instant for Motochika’s world to shatter.
“Nobuchika!”
He jolted upwards from his futon, emotions running high from the dream, eyes wandering around the darkened room. As the silence of the night overpowered his heavy breathing, he wiped the sweat from his brow, looking downwards to calm himself. The moonlight was still at his feet; it hadn’t been long since he retired for the night. Two weeks had passed since Nobuchika’s death and even his more distant retainers had begun to notice his weariness from lack of sleep.
Deciding that the nightmares weren’t going to let him sleep this night either, Motochika slid open his doors and stepped outside into the small garden. The light from the moon was remarkable and the weather that time of year was pleasantly cool. In the past, it was at times like these he would enjoy playing the biwa the most; sitting outdoors watching the moon, synchronizing his melody with the many sounds of the night-- whether he was alone or with company at the time, the feeling of tranquility would be the same.
But without the ocean waves, it wasn’t the same. Every instance he tried to play, to get his mind off things, to soothe his endless nightmare, he would end up feeling more alone than before. Nobuchika never had much talent for music, but that never prevented him back in his toddler days from crawling into his father’s lap, eyes wide in awe at the sounds that came from the instrument, and attempting to strum the strings himself. Never had Motochika thought that fond memories could turn into painful recollections so quickly.
“Can’t sleep?”
Motochika could not recall the name so quickly and took a moment gazing at the stranger before he finally matched one. But even then he found that he had nothing to say and turned to return to his room.
“Do you hate Lord Hideyoshi? Do you blame him for the loss of your son?”
The last thing he needed to hear was a lecture from a conceited man, but nevertheless, he answered, “I do not hate anyone, nor do I blame anyone. What happened, happened… that is all. Even if I did… it would not bring my son back. Excuse me.”
When it seemed as though the conversation had ended, the man spoke again when Motochika had just about reached his room, “… Strong words from someone who looks like they haven’t been sleeping well.”
Confused if the comment was to be regarded as pure sarcasm or masked concern, Motochika turned to face him. Mitsunari had now stepped out in the garden as well, taking notice of the full moon. His expression was far from gentle, but something in his eyes and demeanor expressed that he meant well. Something of a smile crossed Motochika’s face when he noticed the other’s increasing dark circles in the light. “It looks like I’m not the only one,” he remarked softly. The other scoffs.
“I’m not Lord Hideyoshi’s Chief Advisor in name only. Though I have developed an awful case of insomnia because of it…” Mitsunari mutters. His companion smiles, more noticeably this time, amused at the confession he assumed was only brought upon from the other’s lack of sleep.
Mitsunari sighs loudly, as if annoyed, looks over to the darkened hallways and calls for a nearby attendant to prepare some sake and sweets. Taking another look at the sky, Motochika steps back into his room for a moment before reappearing with a familiar instrument in his hands. By the time the preparations were completed and the attendant had excused himself, he had finished adjusting the biwa’s strings. Mitsunari seated himself next to him, curious at the un-expected night entertainment, and poured the both of them a drink.
When his fingers graced the strings, it was as if the night itself had held its breath to listen. There was no planned song when he first proceeded, but as he strummed chord after chord, string after string, he suddenly paused at the chorus: it was the young Nobuchika’s favorite melody which Motochika had decided to begin with. While it held no important significance for his guest, Mitsunari looked on, patient and silent. A breeze blew through the area and musician started the melody again, this time faster with more rhythm accompanied by a long, sorrowful crescendo in the works. Vibrant were his actions, demanding were his notes, yet alluring was his melody, and so entrancing that nothing else in the world seemed to exist during the performance. And Mitsunari listened, listened to every note, every chord---every word, every lament. Every time it seemed like the instrument would break, it produced an even greater note. On and on, it held fast until the very last chord. Motochika kept his gaze low as he finished.
Having not taken his eyes off of him, Mitsunari was shocked when his companion grabbed the flask of sake instead of the provided cup and took a few good gulps from it before he finally ceased from lack of breath.
“You’ll be drunk before you can finish the next song if you keep drinking like that.”
Motochika lifts up the flask to Mitsunari, who flinches at the sudden action. “If it helps me sleep tonight, I don’t see why it matters.”
The other stares at the flask for a moment before he takes it into his own hands, “You do have a point…”
A long drink followed by a sickened expression as the sake goes down his throat before he continues, “but how about a few more songs before you go about doing so?”
“Taken a liking to my melodies, have you?”
Mitsunari shrugs. “It’s something to pass the time until we get drunk.”
The two share a small laugh when leaves and flower petals from a nearby tree are twirled into the air when a sudden powerful breeze interrupts the scene. Both men, surprised, gaze at the unique dance, but only Motochika hears the additional whispers as it dissipates into the sky.
I’m sorry to have kept you here for so long, Nobuchika. Thank you for being patient with your father’s selfishness…*
Mitsunari turns again to Motochika when he re-positions the biwa, a smile on his face. “It would be my pleasure,” he replies.
~~~~
A/N: It was noted in Komyo ga Tsuji that if one grieves too much for a deceased person right after they pass away his/her soul won’t be able to travel to the next world. I thought that was interesting and decided to play off of that a little.
Theme: #18- goodbye
Rating: PG?
Pairings: None [Motochika/Mitsunari if you squint really hard]
Warnings: NPC death, Flask sharing (aka swapping spit, indirect kiss, however you want to see it), Mitsunari giving a shit about someone else, uploaded at three o'clock in the morning.
Notes: Kokia’s “Time to Say Goodbye” is such an amazing song. [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MI6vSnLx7NI&feature=related]
~~~~
Life, happiness… change, sadness and death; all was a part of being thrown into the creation of history and the waves of destiny. Gripping his weapon was all he could do, but even then he didn’t feel any more powerless than if he had been surrounded by faithful retainers instead of out in the open, vulnerable and alone. If it was his time to go, then so be it. Fight to the bitter end he while he was still alive and quietly go when it was time for his life to end: so he promised himself the very first day Shikoku and its people was left in his hands. He had decided he would have no regrets and no remorse when that time came, but he couldn’t help but be saddened by the idea that he would never see his son again.
The inevitable shots were fired. As if the heavens had heard what were to be his final thoughts and decided to play a cruel game with him, in an instant, Nobuchika was there. His face couldn’t be seen but there was no doubting the crest on the back of his attire. Five times .At least five times the bullets pierced through him within a matter of a minute. But as he stumbled forward on one knee, finally collapsing on the ground before him, it only took an instant for Motochika’s world to shatter.
“Nobuchika!”
He jolted upwards from his futon, emotions running high from the dream, eyes wandering around the darkened room. As the silence of the night overpowered his heavy breathing, he wiped the sweat from his brow, looking downwards to calm himself. The moonlight was still at his feet; it hadn’t been long since he retired for the night. Two weeks had passed since Nobuchika’s death and even his more distant retainers had begun to notice his weariness from lack of sleep.
Deciding that the nightmares weren’t going to let him sleep this night either, Motochika slid open his doors and stepped outside into the small garden. The light from the moon was remarkable and the weather that time of year was pleasantly cool. In the past, it was at times like these he would enjoy playing the biwa the most; sitting outdoors watching the moon, synchronizing his melody with the many sounds of the night-- whether he was alone or with company at the time, the feeling of tranquility would be the same.
But without the ocean waves, it wasn’t the same. Every instance he tried to play, to get his mind off things, to soothe his endless nightmare, he would end up feeling more alone than before. Nobuchika never had much talent for music, but that never prevented him back in his toddler days from crawling into his father’s lap, eyes wide in awe at the sounds that came from the instrument, and attempting to strum the strings himself. Never had Motochika thought that fond memories could turn into painful recollections so quickly.
“Can’t sleep?”
Motochika could not recall the name so quickly and took a moment gazing at the stranger before he finally matched one. But even then he found that he had nothing to say and turned to return to his room.
“Do you hate Lord Hideyoshi? Do you blame him for the loss of your son?”
The last thing he needed to hear was a lecture from a conceited man, but nevertheless, he answered, “I do not hate anyone, nor do I blame anyone. What happened, happened… that is all. Even if I did… it would not bring my son back. Excuse me.”
When it seemed as though the conversation had ended, the man spoke again when Motochika had just about reached his room, “… Strong words from someone who looks like they haven’t been sleeping well.”
Confused if the comment was to be regarded as pure sarcasm or masked concern, Motochika turned to face him. Mitsunari had now stepped out in the garden as well, taking notice of the full moon. His expression was far from gentle, but something in his eyes and demeanor expressed that he meant well. Something of a smile crossed Motochika’s face when he noticed the other’s increasing dark circles in the light. “It looks like I’m not the only one,” he remarked softly. The other scoffs.
“I’m not Lord Hideyoshi’s Chief Advisor in name only. Though I have developed an awful case of insomnia because of it…” Mitsunari mutters. His companion smiles, more noticeably this time, amused at the confession he assumed was only brought upon from the other’s lack of sleep.
Mitsunari sighs loudly, as if annoyed, looks over to the darkened hallways and calls for a nearby attendant to prepare some sake and sweets. Taking another look at the sky, Motochika steps back into his room for a moment before reappearing with a familiar instrument in his hands. By the time the preparations were completed and the attendant had excused himself, he had finished adjusting the biwa’s strings. Mitsunari seated himself next to him, curious at the un-expected night entertainment, and poured the both of them a drink.
When his fingers graced the strings, it was as if the night itself had held its breath to listen. There was no planned song when he first proceeded, but as he strummed chord after chord, string after string, he suddenly paused at the chorus: it was the young Nobuchika’s favorite melody which Motochika had decided to begin with. While it held no important significance for his guest, Mitsunari looked on, patient and silent. A breeze blew through the area and musician started the melody again, this time faster with more rhythm accompanied by a long, sorrowful crescendo in the works. Vibrant were his actions, demanding were his notes, yet alluring was his melody, and so entrancing that nothing else in the world seemed to exist during the performance. And Mitsunari listened, listened to every note, every chord---every word, every lament. Every time it seemed like the instrument would break, it produced an even greater note. On and on, it held fast until the very last chord. Motochika kept his gaze low as he finished.
Having not taken his eyes off of him, Mitsunari was shocked when his companion grabbed the flask of sake instead of the provided cup and took a few good gulps from it before he finally ceased from lack of breath.
“You’ll be drunk before you can finish the next song if you keep drinking like that.”
Motochika lifts up the flask to Mitsunari, who flinches at the sudden action. “If it helps me sleep tonight, I don’t see why it matters.”
The other stares at the flask for a moment before he takes it into his own hands, “You do have a point…”
A long drink followed by a sickened expression as the sake goes down his throat before he continues, “but how about a few more songs before you go about doing so?”
“Taken a liking to my melodies, have you?”
Mitsunari shrugs. “It’s something to pass the time until we get drunk.”
The two share a small laugh when leaves and flower petals from a nearby tree are twirled into the air when a sudden powerful breeze interrupts the scene. Both men, surprised, gaze at the unique dance, but only Motochika hears the additional whispers as it dissipates into the sky.
I’m sorry to have kept you here for so long, Nobuchika. Thank you for being patient with your father’s selfishness…*
Mitsunari turns again to Motochika when he re-positions the biwa, a smile on his face. “It would be my pleasure,” he replies.
~~~~
A/N: It was noted in Komyo ga Tsuji that if one grieves too much for a deceased person right after they pass away his/her soul won’t be able to travel to the next world. I thought that was interesting and decided to play off of that a little.