vatheon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Hashiba Hideyoshi, OPEN
Where: Central plaza
When: March 3rd, just after sunset.
Style: Prose preferred.
Status: Open!

After a while - a good long while - Hideyoshi noticed that he was soaking wet.

It had taken a while, because his first priority had been staring - standing in place and simply staring. Then turning round and round - slowly at first, then faster, until he was almost dizzy - and staring, up, about, at every last detail. This was by far and away the strangest dream that he had ever had.

Well, of course it was a dream. What else could it possibly be?

The city was clean, lovely, and utterly alien, even before he caught sight of the overhead dome. It was actually rather kind of his mind to conjure up something like this for practically the first proper night's sleep he'd gotten since beginning the march to Yamazaki. He could happily wander these streets for a while. He glanced down, just a little surprised to find himself in armor - kind as it was, his mind still had a tendency to send him to all his dream-worlds wearing the same clothes he slept in, really very inadequate as they usually were - and then realized that he was completely drenched, and getting more than a little cold. Which put a damper on things, as it were.

"Gah - I didn't even know you could get cold in a dream," he muttered to himself in indignation, taking off his helmet to squeeze the water out of his topknot.

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It was a good day, all in all. After being inactive for two months, Gracia's body was stiff and aching for action, both metaphorically and literally. It took her a while to get used to running and jumping around - her knees locked at the most random times, and she could have sworn she had forgotten how to walk in a straight line - but she was able to return to her usual routine without too much difficulty anyway. When she had so much to catch up on, how could she possibly let something as small as stiff muscles get the best of her?

As the soft glow of Vatheon's sunset light cast shadows against the benches in the plaza, Gracia smiled at her progress. She was able to clean Feng Huang's stable, feed him and ride him for a bit...She brushed Firelight's mane and was pleased at how fast she was growing. Sooner or later, she would have a horse of her own, and it amused her to think she'd have to choose between two steeds that might fight over who gets to ride outside longer. Truly, she missed this; Gracia was not the kind of person who was suited to staying still.

But Vatheon always had this inexplicable way of teasing her, taunting her, mocking her, despite her joy. Her legs were no longer as stiff as when she first woke up, but the way they just stopped mid-stride was disturbing. It wasn't the physical ache, oh no. Not anymore. It was from what she saw; it made it impossible for her to even breathe properly.

She was a little ways away from him, but it wasn't so much of a distance that she couldn't see him clearly. Gracia had nightmares about him; about that rainy day, about what he did, about what happened afterwards. Even after the nightmares disappear, the effects they left on her heart lingered with unpleasantness. She watched him wring his hair dry, and seeing the water drip from his body slapped her violently from the wonderful idea that she fell asleep again, and that this was all a dream. Or a nightmare.

Gracia refused to move from where she stood, and merely stared at him with wide eyes and stiff legs. Hideyoshi was in Vatheon, and she had the unfortunate opportunity to be the first person to see him there. She tried to run back, but it was too much of a shock.

All of a sudden, it wasn't such a good day after all.

He wasn't about to really be dry anytime soon, Hideyoshi concluded finally, but if it couldn't be helped then it probably didn't matter. No use wasting a perfectly nice dream, a really very unexpectedly nice dream, worrying about it. He set his helmet on his head again, in a bit of a jaunty gesture, ignoring the looks he was getting from passers-by, and spun on his heel to turn his back to the strange coral-like statue at the plaza's center and pick a street to walk down. What a detailed dream it was...

(Cold, he was still cold, could you feel cold in a dream? He couldn't tell. Something was...)

And then he saw her. In fact, he turned and practically found himself staring her right in the eye.

Akechi Gracia. Why was he dreaming of Akechi Gracia? Why was he dreaming of her being here, right in the middle of this delightful dream-city, which had absolutely nothing to do with the land he'd left behind in the real world and was in all rights supposed to be his little flight of fancy away from - just from this? For a moment, not a short one, he was as frozen as she was, staring at her. She looked, well, as frightened, as horrified as he should probably have expected.

You know, he told himself idly, it's probably going to be like this for the rest of your life.

He took a step towards her, casual, crossing his arms in a gesture really more resigned than anything else. (Still cold, he was only getting colder, he was starting to have serious second thoughts about this dream...)

"Well," he told her, sighing, "I guess I can't blame you for showing up, but could you leave me to it just for one night?"

Hearing his voice only made it worse; while it did break her free from her progressively darkening thoughts, the very fact that Hideyoshi was speaking to her, and that he knew who she was, made it all the more difficult for Gracia to stay calm. She wasn't quite sure what to feel exactly. There was definitely anger, frustration, a few tinges of sadness...there was also mind-crippling fear, and that ever-lingering notion of isolation came knocking at her door again. He's the reason why, he's the reason for everything going wrong. All of a sudden, Gracia returned to that place in her mind she thought she had already locked away.

When Hideyoshi started to approach her, Gracia felt her face twitch slightly, and she took an instinctive step backwards. Her fists started clutching themselves tightly at her sides, in an attempt to stop herself from running away, or from hurling herself at him to try and get him to magically disappear. If only it were that easy.

With a seemingly permanent frown on her lips, Gracia took a deep breath and replied. Unsurprisingly, she sounded weak, cold, and distant. She wondered what he had meant, but the answer came to her fast enough. Hideyoshi thought this was all a dream.

Time to wake him up, then.

"You're not asleep. This is all real." A pause, another breath, then she continued. "This place is called Vatheon...and you - we - can't leave."

That was enough, for now. She left it at that and waited for him to reply, awkwardly trying to avoid his gaze as much as possible.

Her tone didn't surprise him at all, really, it hardly could have, when he was just days away from killing her father - from very nearly killing her , and not for lack of trying. And he didn't regret it one bit, either. Mitsuhide had killed Nobutada, hadn't he? He'd killed all of Nobunaga's family that he could get his hands on. He'd committed the highest treason possible and the blood was all on him, every last drop of it. No. Hideyoshi would be dead and buried before he regretted a single life taken or broken in Yamazaki.

So why was she here?

At the first instant, what she said just made him scoff. People in a dream saying that they were real wasn't really news to someone with his quirky imagination. There was something about the way she said it, though, the fear in it, and standing her ground despite the fear. He had no idea why he should dream anything like that. He had no idea that dream-people could get so real -

A sudden, bone-deep shiver ran through him.

"I'm not dead, am I?" he asked, in a slightly quieter, though hardly softer voice. "Because that would be not be fair. That would be the very, absolute soul of unfair."

Maybe it was the way he said it, or in the way he looked when he said it. Or maybe it was just him all together. Regardless, Gracia didn't like the way he said what he did. It paved way for her initial fears to dissipate almost instantly, a fiery sensation sparking inside of her chest as a replacement. Gracia's frown immediately turned sour, even more so than before. She was angry. How dare he speak of what's fair? Her hands shook with the intensity of her extreme and utter dislike for the man in front of her. She bit her lip in an attempt to control her emotions, trying desperately to ignore the shadow of her despair. That stormy day in Yamazaki, mud in her shoes and blood on her hands...Motochika, dead, her father, gone. Her own husband raising his sword against her, for the very first time, all because Hideyoshi ordered him to.

When she looked back up at him again, her subtly pale, green eyes were suddenly aflame with an intensity she reserved only for her worst enemies. Enemy. And despite badly wanting to end this once and for all - defeating him now while he's still disoriented and confused - Gracia was not that kind of person. Her heart was as soft as her father's, even at times when she wished she had no heart at all. But it was not to be; Gracia was not violent, and she would only raise her fist against him if he spoke badly of her father, or if he did anything to hurt him.

Gracia's voice almost came out as a hiss. A very bitter hiss.

"You're not dead. I'm not dead either, even back home." She paused to breathe, and then she continued. Needless to say, she found her courage all too quickly. She only had to remember that his army retreated from Yamazaki because she defeated Hideyoshi, in the end. Gracia was not about to back down from this. She would never back down to him.

"Vatheon is a magical city that's located under the sea. The bubble protects us from the water. That's why you're wet and cold." She bit her lip again. "If you want to keep on believing that we're in a dream, then I won't stop you. But you're not dreaming, and I'm not lying to you, and we can't leave here and go back home."

She was, simply put, at a loss for more words. Her emotions were clouding her head, and her vision was becoming hazy. Gracia's throat was dry, and all she wanted to do was go home and bury herself underneath her bedsheets. She could pretend this was all a dream, just like he thinks it all is, but it wasn't so. And Gracia hadn't the slightest clue how to go about this, besides ignoring her own dislike for a short period of time just so she can talk to him properly without bringing up certain issues. So she does what she knows what to do best. She asks a question.

"W-What do you want to know? About this place...and what's going on?"

She looked up at him from underneath her lashes, one hand grasping at her sleeve. When she finished speaking, she felt a bad taste forming on her tongue.

If it had been any other girl in the world - it wasn't right, of course, that this much anger and hate should fill such young and lovely eyes. It was the opposite of anything Hideyoshi might have wanted. A happy Japan - what possible chance was there that Gracia would ever be happy again? If it had been any other girl... no matter what he did when he had to, Hideyoshi didn't relish the thought of being hated. He would have balked at that anger, struck by it, perhaps he would have backed away.

But she was Mitsuhide's daughter. Treacherous, holier than thou, self-styled savior Mitsuhide, whose tender heart was more important than the life of the only man in all the land who thought that a monkey-faced peasant boy might be more than a handy test for a new sword, more than the hope of peace that years of war have only just barely won. She was welcome to turn that anger at him.

No. He couldn't keep thinking about that. Stop it, Hyoshi. Get a hold of yourself. It's all over, remember? In silence, he took a deep breath in then out, out with all the anger. Yamazaki was all over, and he hadn't gotten anywhere he had by not keeping a clear head about him. He had other things to worry about - namely, what in Heaven's name she was talking about with her magical cities in bubbles under the sea.

Not dreaming, not dead. What was the third option, again?

"I don't think you're lying..." he said very slowly, shifting his gaze from her to look around again. Yes, that was definitely a bubble overhead. Definitely the sea. Definitely completely impossible. "Though you have to admit, that is a bit much."

In a sense, going all businesslike at her like that was worse than letting his own emotions run high; but really it was just him being him. She should know. "How did we get here would be a nice start. You've been around a while, have you?"

Mitsuhide had slept for a long time, Vatheon sweeping him under for almost two weeks. This had left him with an aching body, physical weakness that would likely last for a few more days at least, but nevertheless he had stepped out of the house as soon as he could possibly manage it.

After remaining so still for so long, his body needed to be moved around, and he needed to catch up with the rest of the city. Make sure his friends were okay, make sure those afflicted with the curse were coping. This was his home, now, and he considered it his duty to take care of it and its residents. At his side was Motochika, his partner in all things. They were wandering the streets, talking as they walked side by side, and Mitsuhide was at the very least relaxed.

This state of mind was destined to end.

They turned a corner, Mitsuhide turned his head, and there before him was a halo of gold. He stopped in his tracks, stared over. That halo of gold was nothing less than a helmet, a very distinctive item belonging to one Hashiba Hideyoshi.

"Motochika..." Mitsuhide's voice was quiet and even, for now, but there was a trace of something unsettled there. "It's... look."

He grabbed at his lover's hand with his one of own, pointed over at the man he could scarcely believe he was seeing with the other. Mitsuhide felt stunned, his breathing becoming unsteady. Hideyoshi was not Nobunaga, could not affect Mitsuhide as deeply as the Demon King, but still... this was no small event. Just the sight of the man often called Monkey was enough to bring Yamazaki to life in Mitsuhide's mind, vivid images of rain, blood and death already playing in his head.

The young samurai knew this was no dream, though he would likely soon be wishing it was.

The patrol was an usual routine to Yukimura by now. It made time pass by quickly and he felt fulfilled somehow - perhaps it was the knowledge that he was doing something for Vatheon instead of being idle and wasting away like he had been at Mt. Kudo.

And it was with this sense of accomplishment that he ventured home that afternoon, the sunset a warm glow of orange overhead. He was thinking about Kunoichi in her sleep coma when a man soaked to his bones walked across his path. A very familiar man.

Yukimura thought he was seeing a ghost and at first, froze in his tracks to observe this sight with fright and perhaps a little awe. When the moment passed however, he found himself calling out.

"... Lord Hideyoshi?"

The head of the Evronian army had just finished replenishing his life energy at the coral, and was now about to head back to his apartment to spend a quiet evening reading the first book he had borrowed from the Grand Library, a simple science manual on ocean lifeforms. Certainly, such a harmless thing would never divert the space conqueror's mind from thoughts of war and destruction.

Now, Gorthan usually did not think much of newcomers. This one, however, was especially hard to miss. That helmet... it had specifically been studied to be an attention grabber, hadn't it. And as for the rest of his golden armor... even someone as disdainful of Earth's customs as Gorthan had to recognize that it was beautifully crafted. It reminded him of his own, somewhat; the ancient armor that had belonged to Zartas and that he still wore during traditional duels.

"Welcome to Vatheon, earthling." He took a few, slow steps towards the newcomer, his broad shoulders set very straight. "If you have a war to fight, I hope for you that you are prepared to remain away for it for some time."

Motochika's gaze followed Mitsuhide's direction.

The surprise of what he saw was sharp; acute awareness drowned all his previous levity. Cool composure and focus kicked in, a seasoned warrior's instinct, calm and alert.

Motochika squeezed Mitsuhide's hand in support, a wordless reiteration of his promise: I will stand beside you, and be your strength.

The tides had turned. His family's peace crumbled away in an instant, undercut by a single presence.

Whilst a better prospect than Nobunaga, it was undeniable that Hideyoshi's arrival marked the end of their days of quiet contentment. The memory of Yamazaki cast long shadows over both Akechi; Motochika had witnessed their devastation first hand on more than one occasion. Regardless of when Hideyoshi had been swept under from, regardless of Hideyoshi's intentions where they were concerned, Hideyoshi in person was far more dangerous to Mitsuhide and Gracia's well-being than any recollection.

It was inevitable that one day that Mitsuhide and Gracia would have to face and conquer their demons, but Motochika was fully aware that this was too soon for either to cope.

He could not spare them from the impact of Hideyoshi's presence.

Yet he would be their rock for as long as they wavered.

“You do not face him alone, Mitsuhide,” Motochika said, voice low, pitched for Mitsuhide's ears only.

Motochika stood between Mitsuhide and any who intended him harm with unwavering conviction.

It was perhaps too late to retreat now and choose when to engage Nobunaga's avenger. No experienced samurai missed the weight of a heavy gaze under ordinary circumstances.

On the other hand, if there was any hope, it was that Vatheon was as far from ordinary as one could get. Arriving was a disorientating affair – if they had not been noticed already then there was opportunity for them to slip away, which would afford Mitsuhide vital time to regroup himself and steel his composure into a state less vulnerable, even if only marginally.

In the space of a breath their course of action would be clear.

It was that time of month again when the new people arrived completely wet and disoriented. At times, Kenshin sought out new people to see who'd arrive, hoping that among them would be one of his own, or even his rival who sparked that fire in his heart.

He sighed for a moment, sipping sake from a large thermos (a wonder of this world), when he recognized the sound of wet armor clattering about nearby. Perhaps another samurai had arrived. There were few here in this world. Perhaps he would be another of his world. Perhaps he would belong to that other Sengoku world which existed here.

Kenshin screwed the lid back on the thermos and approached the new figure, finding him completely unfamiliar. Interesting. "This is unfortunately not a dream," he said, his voice rather feminine but reassuring. "This land is called Vatheon."

"....I've been here for over a year, now. I might be nearing two years."

The memory would have been a fond one—her time in the city was far happier than she could ever have predicted. All the friends she had made, her family restored and finally happy...yes, Vatheon was a blessing in disguise. On more than one ocassion, Gracia found herself unwilling to leave. What waited for her, for her father and Motochika, back home? Nothing. A broken home, an empty castle, and a reputation that would follow her name no matter who she married. She would never see Motochika again, outside of the magical city. As for her father, there was always an uncetainty. He could be alive, the necklace she was wearing would lead her to him if ever she returned home. But what if he wasn't at that hut? What if he really was dead? They did come from two different timelines...All too quickly, the fond memories shattered, and at that moment, Gracia felt the floodgates open completely. Her anger and sadness served as the foundations for the uncertainties she tried so hard to keep away.

But she forced it all back in. Now was not the time to show him weakness. She'd get through this. She was strong, she believed in that. (At least, for now.)

Plus, she was part of the Welcoming Committee. She'd love to leave this particular newcomer to his own devices, let him figure it all out by himself, or from someone else, but she couldn't. It was almost irritating.

"You'll get used to this place." She rubbed at her arm slowly, up and down, feeling the hairs stand on edge. Gracia looked up at him again, eyes still fiery yet have calmed down somewhat. (Or maybe she just got tired of trying to resist it.) "This city is my home." Her voice came out as a whisper, the bitterness fading into quiet resoluteness. She made it so her message was clear to him; the moment he tried anything to conquer or harm Vatheon, Gracia would stand up against him.

"No one knows exactly how we got here, or why we're here." Gracia looked out into the plaza, her gaze eventually resting on the centerpiece of the plaza. She points to it limply, with one finger. "But what everyone believes is that that magic coral, the god Lamufao, has taken us all here to fuel the magic barrier. So we're a little bit weaker than we were back home."

She shook her head, crimson hair falling out of place from behind her ears. "There's a lot of mystery about this place. Just when I thought we had all the answers, more questions just came up instead." She paused, and took a few steps forward, willing her feet to move despite the subtle shake in her knees. When she was halfway near Hideyoshi, and that was as far as she was willing to move, Gracia loosened her brooch and tugged her neckline loose—at the side of her neck was a tattoo.

"Um, you'll find this somewhere along your body. It's the mark of foreigners." Uncomfortable with her position, and with conversing with him in general, Gracia covered her neck once more and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She had to wrap it up.

"The locals won't tell you anything, they won't answer questions. They'll only be kind to you, and give you all that you need. Everything in the city is for free, there's no money here. You can live in the apartments, or find an empty house. They're by the residential area." Inhale. Exhale. The weakness in her voice returned, underlying her determination to protect eveyone from him, should he decide to assert rule over Vatheon.

"This place is a gentle land, it's peaceful. There's no war. Only the priestess and her friends watch over us. You don't...you don't have to do anything anymore." Gracia could not help but end her sentence a little more assertively than how she started out.

By the time that she had finished speaking - and it took some restraint to keep quiet and listen, when with every other sentence his mind just about exploded with questions - Hideyoshi had more or less forgotten about the little matter of the girl before him being his enemy. If it were all real - presuming that it was all real, and not just a truly spectacular hallucination, really, another world? Swept by a magical coral into another world where someone could be trapped like Gracia for a year, two years, just like that, and no answers, and all right, play along. If it was real, if it was real, then you didn't argue with reality, did you. You adapted. You made the best of it. Possibilities, opportunities.

He swallowed hard, not particularly thinking of it that she saw this obvious sign of weakness from him. So what if she was his enemy? She wouldn't attack, he was quite certain of that, not now and perhaps not ever, unless she felt that she had a good reason - felt compelled to defend her home, he understood. Did she think that he was going to try and - ?

"Did you say everything is free?" he blinked at her, and blinked again. "Everything?" Well, of course that the city was peaceful, then, but who did the work? Who grew the food, sewed the clothes, built the houses - and who ruled over it all and made it possible? The idea of a world in which anyone could just take whatever he happened to want or need and never have to work or pay for it was almost, no, definitely as bizarre as a city in a bubble under the ocean. It just didn't happen. It wasn't the way people were.

And she thought that he was going to go looking for a war in a place like that?

"But - but that's - " he sputtered for a moment, flailing. "How does that work?!" Forget everything else. This, he had to understand.

The soaked man in question was, by this point, back to being occupied with walking around the plaza, trying to wrap his mind about - well, most everything. Vatheon. Bubble. Under the sea. Magic coral. Free everything. He had to test that last bit of wonder - would the people in one of those strange shops just give him dry clothes if he asked them? He was standing before one of the windows, trying to get used to the prospect enough to try it out, when he heard someone call his name.

The voice was familiar - his memory for them had always been good - but only vaguely. On the bright side, it didn't sound angry or frightened, both of which he'd gotten quite enough of from Gracia. He turned, and gave a wild start of his own. Six coins - Sanada!

"Whaa - I know you!" he blurted out. The memory came back in a flash. Some things stuck with you - the guns in Nagashino, the end of the takeda cavalry, and a particular proud young warrior who simply wouldn't stay down. " - why are you calling me lord?" Last he checked, said young warrior was likely still eager to stick a spear through him.

Maybe he was wasting his time picking his jaw up every time it dropped, Hideyoshi thought to himself as he turned and took in the look of the... whatever it was addressing him. Clearly, it wasn't going to stop doing that anytime soon.

He had almost managed to make it past the part where he was just staring in awe at every other thing his gaze happened to land on, and started to think about good old practicalities. He'd gotten dry clothes (they really were free!) and something resembling food (he didn't know Western bread came in so many shapes and colors) and had been pointed in the direction of shelter, and was starting to find the vague semblance of balance when - no, he couldn't begin to guess what it was that walked up to him. Except that it talked, so it felt rather impolite not to answer.

"I, ah, thank you." Something about the other - person's pose told him that he might not mind being stared at, so long as the stare contained an appropriate amount of awe. "I wasn't planning on it, but I'm sure my retainers will manage just fine!" They almost definitely wouldn't, but what could he possibly do about that? Put up a brave face, that was all. And try to figure out how much this - person would mind if he just flat out asked what in Heaven's name are you?

fhlgjhKenshinwithathermos...! *ahem* So sorry, really want to tag you but, having a bit of trouble reconciling when different encounters happen in this log - could I possible ask you to edit this a bit so it doesn't follow up immediately from the log opener? Just for continuity's sake ^^

It was true that Hideyoshi was distracted - about as distracted as it was humanly possible to be when every step presented him with the new breathtaking reality of a different world. He'd been ready to stop, leave the plaza and the urge to wander the streets and go and find a place to call home at least for the moment, someplace where he could sit down and decide whether he was going to go with the everything-is-real theory or with the going-barking-mad one. Maybe it was coincidence that he felt what he did. Maybe it was fate.

He saw him from the corner of his eye, before he turned and their gazes locked.

Somehow, he realized just then, he'd been ready for it - as though something in him knew that he'd meet the man tonight, without as much as a breath to recover before it. But it was still the deepest, bone-chilling shock to turn and see Akechi Mitsuhide standing not far from him, still alive. He'd killed the man - he knew he did, himself, he hadn't left that task to anyone else. He'd taken that handsome proud head and kept it in a blasted wooden box by his own bedroll, where no other traitors could try and snatch it up for an honorable burial. For you, my lord. A little present to make you smile in the other world. I knew you'll like it.

Hideyoshi had been mocked quite a lot in his life, but never like this.

He didn't step forward, nor back. In fact all the careless cheerful energy that moved his body language at any ordinary time had frozen up, gone to steel in his bones, so that he stood and despite the substantial height difference seemed to look Mitsuhide right in the eye. And that look said everything. Hideyoshi didn't believe in enmities; the man who could turn his enemy into his friend, he thought, could rule the world. But there was one hate from which there would be no moving forward, no forgiveness, no laughter, hate that turned his warm brown gaze to golden fire, that gave the slight, scrawny form of Nobunaga's Monkey the bearing of a conqueror.

He didn't move or speak, only held Mitsuhide's eye and gave a nod, the minute gesture saying everything. There, here or in any world, there will never be peace between the two of us.

For his part, Mitsuhide felt none of that hate.

There was something different about Hideyoshi, something in that expression that was very different from the last time Mitsuhide had seen him. When they'd faced off against one another, and the other man had spoken words of anger yet kind words too. When Hideyoshi had spared Mitsuhide's life, or at least let him run when word of Motochika's defeat had sounded around the battlefield. That could have been mercy or the utmost cruelty, and right now, Mitsuhide firmly believed the latter.

He also believed he deserved it, and did not return that nod. Gripping Motochika's hand ever tighter, he took a deep shuddering breath and shook his head a fraction.

All he could think about was Yamazaki, and Honnouji. Honnouji was burning brightest now, the sound of crackling flames and laughter ringing through his head. He had marched there when he had been ordered to help Hideyoshi, to prepare for the invasion of Shikoku.

Things he had held back and tried to ignore for a long time, prompted by this encounter, that expression, came flooding out, casting peace and serenity aside.

"He called me his friend..." he muttured. "Laughed as I did it. Welcomed it. He... he wanted it..."

It was not said as an excuse, and he did not consider it one. Not at all. It was something that continued to disturb and upset him, continued to come up in the many nightmares he still had. Any trace of colour had drained from Mitsuhide's face, leaving him completely pale and looking disturbed, upset.

Nobunaga had laughed. He had looked delighted, said he was pleased someone had finally done it.

And that had caused one of the deepest scars in his heart, because he didn't understand. Couldn't understand. The Demon King had wanted to be betrayed? It made no sense, no matter how much he thought it over. Surely he could not have meant it. Surely.

"Why...?"

"So I was right. You are a military leader." A smile appeared on the alien duck's beak - evidently, he was rather pleased with his deduction. "As am I. I, too, hope that, in my absence, my generals are managing my army as is desirable."

... Although something about the earthling's countenance had almost made Gorthan second-guess himself. That jawdropping expression... it certainly wasn't befitting of a commander. Then again, perhaps it was nothing but the effect that any Evronian had on any earthling - awe, fear and panic... that exquisite whirlpool of emotions, an Evronian's only food. It was quite a pity that Gorthan was presently erring on the cautious side, having chosen not to absorb emotional energy from anyone for the moment - he had met so many in Vatheon who were so... productive.

She nodded once, and this time, gestured to the stalls not too far from where they were.

"Look at all the people over there. They're not bringing out any money, they're just asking for what they need from the shopkeepers." Gracia wasn't alien to the idea that this was all too good to be true. After all, it wasn't that long ago that she was also a newcomer, freshfaced and just as unbelieving as Hideyoshi was at the moment. Still, it must have been her inherent eagerness for all things new and exciting, because it didn't take too long to get settled in either.

"Nobody knows how it all works. I always thought it was the magic of the city that keeps on giving things to us. But like I told you, my questions only lead to more questions in this place."

In a brief moment of silence after she replied, Gracia glanced over his form, stll dripping and cold from sea water. She opted to stare at the ground in front of her feet, contemplating on one more act of kindess—she could see a towel stand from her peripheral vision. Should she...?

Rare to see Gracia deny her own merciful instincts, she ignores it for a while and decides to discuss another important tidbit about the city. She pouts to herself before speaking; let him catch a cold, that'll show him.

"There's....um, something else you should know." She sighed. Again, it would have been so pleasing to see him suffer the effects of this particular nuance of Vatheon without prior knowledge of it, but Gracia was just not that kind of person. And even if she did want to take some sort of vengeance at him—and trust her, she did—she would have done it some other time, and in her own way (back home, it took the form of rebellion, running away from home just to side with whoever Hideyoshi's enemies were at the time). The shock brought about by seeing him had drained her completely.

"Sometimes, the people in the city get affected by curses. They're different every time, and they last for about a week."

Motochika turned his gaze from Hideyoshi to Mitsuhide.

Who 'he' was took no guesses. Only Nobunaga knew the answer to that question, and Motochika had a feeling that whatever the answer was, it could only harm Mitsuhide further.

He had his suspicions, of course.

Nobunaga's last words and actions came as no real surprise. He had witnessed Nobunaga cruelly provoke Mitsuhide on two occasions -- during the battle at Kizugawa and during Tetorigawa -- and knew that those times had hardly been isolated incidents. Perhaps Nobunaga had been pleased to see ambition roused in Mitsuhide. More likely Nobunaga had delighted in knowing how it would break Mitsuhide to betray his code to stay true to his soul, how their land would despise and mark as despicable the purest, most compassionate one of them all.

There was no answer that would bring Mitsuhide comfort; no answer that could bring Mitsuhide any peace.

And with Hideyoshi before them, radiating hostility, this was not the place to fall apart. It was clear that Hideyoshi had lived through Honnouji, the nod conveying more than enough. Yet Hideyoshi had made no move to attack, and that seemed as good an opportunity as any.

"He never settled for compromise. You displayed your full commitment."

At great cost indeed. Not that Motochika expected Mitsuhide to understand the concept, too idealistic for their cruel age.

“Come, Mitsuhide. Other members of the Welcoming Committee shall see to Hideyoshi's needs.”

We do not have to stay.

He made no motion to leave, however, clearly deferring to Mitsuhide's decision on that front.

His gaze, meanwhile, returned to Hideyoshi. Motochika watched with steady regard, his grip remaining firm for as long as Mitsuhide desired it.

It was that time of month again when the new people arrived completely wet and disoriented. At times, Kenshin sought out new people to see who'd arrive, hoping that among them would be one of his own, or even his rival who sparked that fire in his heart.

He sighed for a moment, sipping sake from a large thermos (a wonder of this world), when he recognized the sound of armor clattering about nearby. Perhaps another samurai had arrived. There were few here in this world. Perhaps he would be another of his world. Perhaps he would belong to that other Sengoku world which existed here.

Kenshin screwed the lid back on the thermos and approached the new figure, finding him completely unfamiliar. Interesting. "Greetings," he said, his voice rather feminine but reassuring. "You must be new. I do not believe we have encountered one another before."

And of course, that Mitsuhide wouldn't be alone - maybe he should have seen that coming, too. First Gracia, now Motochika, the bat of Tosa who was himself up to his knees in the blood of Honnouji. For him, Hideyoshi felt nothing particularly personal - war was war, and he couldn't blame Chosokabe anymore than he did any other man who'd raised a sword to the Oda at any other time. It was just a waste of a life and talent. But they stood together and he was really not surprised. That Mitsuhide had allies and he was alone was really just continuing the same old theme.

You had everything. And it just wasn't enough, was it? Threw it all away, and what for?

There was nothing he could do. He didn't even have his staff, and knew he couldn't hope to overpower the taller, stronger Mitsuhide, never mind both him and Motochika. No arms, no army, no allies, no money, not even a dry shirt on his back. Don't think it'll stop me. Not for one moment, don't think that. Had anything like that ever stopped him before? He could be patient; knew that he'd hate the man as fiercely in ten years' time as he did now, days after putting a sword through him. He saw Mitsuhide turn pale, and relished a moment of profound satisfaction. You know what you did, and you know what you deserve.

He shifted his gaze from Mitsuhide's and caught Motochika's; when he spoke, it wasn't too loudly, but there was a trick to making your voice carry across a distance even when it was low, soft with venom.

"Careful there, Motochika," he said. "Maybe you have him on a short leash now, but you know how dogs are once they get a taste for human flesh."

And with that, he turned on his heel, to make his way through the scattered crowds and down a street, a fading flash of gold in the deepening night.

They really had given him clothes for free. They'd been nice about it. Hideyoshi was still so immersed in that wonder, walking away from the shop, that he almost didn't notice the stranger that approached him. When he turned to the man it was with a stupidly wide grin that only faltered very slightly when he took notice of the style of the other's clothes - strange but still somehow familiar - and then, which was that much more important, of his sword. His really very unmistakable sword. They only made them like that in one place in the world.

A moment later it occurred to him that that didn't necessarily mean much anymore. If there was more than one world, who knew how many there could be?

"Well, that might just have to do with the fact that I only splashed in here about an hour ago," he answered with a recovered smile after a moment. "Still wet behind the ears, as it were - say, what is that thing?" He nodded at the small object that the other was carrying. Just one more small bit of strangeness among the varied and the sizable, but no less fascinatingly strange for that.

Mitsuhide stared after Hideyoshi, watching him retreat. Motochika's previous words, if they had at all gotten through before, certainly did not linger now. They were gone from the young samurai's mind, swallowed up by the torrent of despair that now thundered through him. The words of the Monkey had cut deep, opening lingering wounds.

It was too much. Far too much.

Despite what many might have assumed about him, Mitsuhide didn't cry much at all. The times he had he could count on the fingers of his hands, and of those all but one had been when he had been alone. Right now, however, the tears came easily and they came fast.

He made no sound, but bowed his head, ashamed and hurting. Why was this happening? Why now? Did Vatheon seek to punish him too?

Edited 2012-03-05 22:50 (UTC)

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Sometime later! [1/2]

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It's alright! Time exists, etc.

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Thanks! XD

OOC

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sure :D

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Hurrah!!

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