all for one and one for all

HE  HEARS  ZHONG  HUI  BEFORE  HE  SEES  HIM   ——   and  it  makes  mitsunari   harrumph  !   from  his  seat  by  the  campfire,   feigning  an  annoyance  far  more  amplified  than  he  actually  is.   perhaps he  was  beginning to miss this man’s company,  irritating as it was.   as far as he knows,  it’s just because he enjoys  teasing  him so.

that’s certainly far from what’s  actually  put a real sour look on his face far before the exaggerated look he’s replaced it with  ;   but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about lord hideyoshi’s ailing health.

the fact of the matter is,  they’ve been in this world far too long  ——  and mitsunari’s greatest fears have begun to be realized.   the fact of the matter is that if hideyoshi doesn’t recover,  mitsunari will have to watch him die all over again.

“  ————  you know,  shiji,  ”   he speaks as though nothing bothers him.   he learned how to do that at too young of an age.   “  i never realized you were so  concerned  about the state of my face.   do you think of it that often  ?  ”

he rubs his hand together,  warms himself in front of the fire.   with everything going on,  perhaps shiji’s face is one of the few he can handle being around.   akkorо̄’s,  too  —  he  longs  for akkorо̄,  but he’s seen the way he looks at that wei general and he knows his time has far passed.

“  if i’m  pouting,  at any rate,  it’s only because you’re  disturbing  me,  ”  he finally answers,  flatly,  because if he lets himself emote he’ll very likely get  upset.   and if that happens,  this insufferable man will  never  let him live it down.

“  for,  here i thought i would have another  moment  to myself before i am to resume my work.  ”   and it’s worth noting that he  could  excuse himself to do just that right this moment  ;   for anyone else,  maybe he would have.   even if mitsunari doesn’t want zhong hui to know what troubles him,  even if he has come to enjoy mercilessly teasing him,  few others will be able to keep his head afloat as effortlessly,  too.

i’ve  been  busy,   you  know.   but,  you  could  always  join  me.

“  join  you  ?   in doing  what,  exactly  ?  ”   and he  does  detect a note of hopefulness,  and for a moment,  mitsunari thinks he may see an opportunity to  tease  in the horizon,  and so he fully turns himself to face the other man,  begins to await his answer;  but,  not before adding:

“  if you mean for me to switch my allegiances,  you’d  better  be pulling my leg.  ”

FALLING  MEN  SCREAM,   BLADE  CUTS  THROUGH  FLESH,   the  sounds  of  bodies  dropping  to  the  earth  and  guns  firing  and  arrows  piercing  skin.   the  snap  !   of his tessen,  heavy breathing,  and akkorō’s voice pierces through the cacophony of war and brings mitsunari back to earth  ——

even if he’s  scolding  him.   but the last time mitsunari had seen akkorō,  he watched him  die.   he’d ratherakkorō be alive and  hate  him than be dead.   he’d do anything to keep him alive  ;   he’ll  let  him  go  if that’s what it takes.

it’s hard to tell while the man wears his mask,  but judging by disposition alone mitsunari knows that thisakkorō must have come from a timeline far before his own  ;   this had to have been shortly after coming into mitsunari’s service.   that was all too long ago.

akkorō’s scolding him  stings,  to be sure  ;   were he the  boy  akkorō ought to know,  maybe he would have even bitten back,  just as fierce.   maybe he would have seen the soldiers so close to felling him.   if he regrets anything now,  it’s that he was separated from lord hideyoshi from the start.   he’s in too deep to go back to him,  now.   even if he’s going to wind up back on the chopping block if they ever leave this godforsaken world,  he refuses to die without trying to make a difference  ---  without freeing at least  some  of the warriors within orochi’s captivity.

maybe he  would  have been better able to control his impulses were he the boyakkorō ought to know,  would be able to stop himself from immediately wrapping his arms tight around the younger man,  just to be able to embrace him one final time.

he says nothing  ;   and when he lets go of him,  he’ll try his best not to address that he’d even done it at all.

he swallows,  clears his throat,  keeps his voice low  ---  in case someone hears him,  in case his voice  breaks.

“  i’ve earned da ji’s trust  ;   and,  therefore,  his.   they no longer keep a close eye on me,  which allows me to free captive warriors as i please.  ”   and,  perhaps,  for the first time in a long while,  he feels pride.   his lips twitch,  an imperceptible smirk.   “  sabotage.  ”

he’s older,  now  ;   and though it has made him wiser,  has made his arrogance  more  of an act than ever before   (  has made him  humbler,  although not as many have  seen  that  ),  it has made him bolder,  has filled his heart with more passion and emotion and pain than he knows what to do with.   it has made him realize that he’s been given a second chance,  in orochi’s twisted world,  to protect the toyotomi even from afar,  to do some good before he reaches the end.

“  will you help me one last time,   akkorō  ?  ”

BENEATH  THE  TEARS  THAT  STAIN  HIS CHEEKS,   his  face  turns  red  from  embarrassment  over  being  called  out.   he swallows thick,  checks himself,  regains his composure.   cao pi’s words  anger  him,  but only  partly  because the man can’t help but be an asshole all the time.   most of all they make him angry with  himself,  because he knows he’s better than this   (  but all the same,  he’s so  tired  ).

he’s barely gotten any rest since their worlds have collided,  likely will have trouble doing so even still once orochi has been slain and everything returns to normal  —  if  it ever returns to normal,  if they’ll even remember what has transpired after all is said and done.

his  hideyoshi was dead,  the battle of sekigahara mere days away when his world was ripped apart,  and he still carries the knowledge that if he returns,  he may very well be days away from his own end.   he’s crossed paths with the hideyoshi that orochi pulled from a different timeline,  a hideyoshi who was far healthier in both body and mind than when mitsunari last saw his own when he was still on his feet.   bright - eyed,  eager for the future,  on his way to seize odawara and unify japan.

mitsunari misses those days.

he thinks that maybe if he had been pulled from that same time,  he would be able to handle everything that’s gone on to this point,  would be a bit more arrogant and cocky   (  he still acts arrogant and cocky,  but maybe he wouldn’t feel so close to defeated,  either  ).   maybe a younger version of himself would have been able to handle the horrors he’s seen marginally better  ——  the awful things he’s had to do while under orochi’s leadership,  to gain da ji’s trust  ——  all of the blood that has been spilled and the death he’s had to witness which somehow seems far worse than anything he’s ever had to do in his own timeline.

he used to fight for an honorable cause.   orochi is pure evil.   and even though the two of them have finally broken free from his grasp,  mitsunari still cannot shake the disgustingly grimy feeling that covers him from head to toe.

and now cao pi’s been injured,  the memory of the man catching a blow to his arm still ingrained into his brain,  and if he’s angry at anything else it’s at the fact that he’s come to care  so  much about this prick that the thought of the blow being fatal sent him into a spiraling panic attack.

his teeth are clenched,  jaw unbearably tight as through tears he takes the gentlest hold of cao pi’s arm and wraps cloth around it and a makeshift splint he’s procured,  fumbling fingers tying the cloth off once he’s finished.

i  still  possess  one  arm  and  one  blade,   do  i  not  ?   i  remain  more  capable  than  most  here.

“  have we  truly  set the bar so low for our own troops  ?  ”   mitsunari asks sardonically,  tone still laced with attitude even in spite of his most recent meltdown,  in spite of the tears that still make his eyes sting.

dry  your  tears,   my  lord.   weeping  ill  suits  you.

he swallows thickly,  the sleeve of his robe wiping hot tears away and drying his eyes,  face heated all over again to be reminded that he’s out here  crying  in front of  anyone  else,  let alone in front of cao pi.

“  i must be exhausted,  ”   he mumbles irritably,  tries not to make the sniff that follows sound so  pathetic.   “  at any rate,  i still must insist you sit tomorrow out.   capable though you may be,  we’ve just taken a massive risk in our most recently act of  betrayal.   i don’t advise following that up with  avoidable  risks,  no matter how minor.   if anything happens to you now,  this will all fall apart.  ”

he cannot lead them.   and he knows from experience now that he  shouldn’t.

he hasn’t let go of cao pi,  although his hold has transferred from the injured one to the uninjured wrist,  just ghosting over his hand.

THE  HOURS  HAVE  SOMEHOW  FELT  SO  MUCH  LONGER,   unbearably  so,   since  he  and  akkorо̄  had  their  argument,   since  they’ve  been  avoiding  each  other.   he’s been  incredibly  lonely,  has very nearly forgotten what such loneliness felt like  ------  felt like a cruel reminder that he’d lived with such loneliness almost his whole life withoutakkorо̄ by his side.

mitsunari  is  a fool,  is utterly pathetic at being a  normal  human being,  and if he had actually driven akkorо̄ away then it was precisely what he deserved.   he becomes so  aware  of how socially inept he is in situations like this,  malfunctioning brain preventing him from stoppingakkorо̄ from walking out the door on him,  warring ego and anxiety barring him from seeking him out.

now,  akkorо̄ has tucked himself into a corner in his quarters,  and for the briefest moment,  mitsunari feels the slightest amount of dread in the pit of his stomach,  wonders if he is still   (  understandably  )   angry with him,  wonders if he should  say  something,  wonders why he has such a hard time just spitting it out  ------

i  grow  weary  of  being  apart  from  you,   my  love.

surprise.   mitsunari goes to set down his brush,  nearly drops it,  twists his body around so that he might look within the shadows to find the source of that voice that he’s so missed.

and,   if  i  must  be  the  one  to  end  this  feud  between  us,   then  i  am  sorry.   i  ask  your  forgiveness.

“  akkorо̄  ------  ”   he wonders how much more of an asshole he can possibly be,  for the one that oughtn’t need to apologize to do so first.   say  something,   damn  it  !

“  no,  ”  he finally manages out,  quickly elaborates beforeakkorо̄ worries he’s done something wrong,   “  you shouldn’t be asking for my forgiveness.   i  should be asking for  yours.  ”   fists curl up,  and he has longed so desperately to haveakkorо̄ in his arms again that it is taking all of his willpower not to leap up and latch onto him.

“  i - i  ...   was an  ass,  ”   he admits,  swallows what feels like glass,  hates the way that his chest tightens up,  but hates himself more for letting it get this far.   if he so nearly lostakkorо̄,  he is doomed to lose everyone else.   but most of all,  he can never come so close to losingakkorо̄ again.   “  i tried to invalidate your feelings,  and i was  wrong.   i should have stopped you from walking out.   i - i  ...   love  you, akkorо̄.   i  beg  your forgiveness.  ”

“  ------------------  OF  ALL  PEOPLE  ?  ”   mitsunari echoes the question,  eyebrows lifting in mild surprise.   he’s less surprised by the remark itself,  however  ;   more surprised by the fact that akkorō seems to be jealous at all.   he had meant only to make a passing remark  ------  and while he only really thinks before he speaks to a very certain extent,  he didn’t really anticipate thatakkorō would react as strongly as he is.   he can’t see much beneath the layers,  but he can see  enough  from the look in the man’s eyes alone.

akkorō believes himself to be the cold and the crushing of the sea,  but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable.   it catches mitsunari off guard,  sends a chill down his spine   (  were it  anyone  else,  it might have otherwise  annoyed  him  ).

there’s a piece of him that understands.   and,  another that cannot begin to fathom it.

he can’t tell if this is going to devolve into an argument  ---  doesn’t think it  should.   but,  regardless,  his systems are already beginning to preemptively shut down   (  it’s  instinct,  now,  a mechanism of self - defense  ).

“  do you have something against him  ?  ”   he asks,  arms crossing.   “  he’s a  good  friend.   but you should not feel  threatened  by him.   nor  should you compare yourself to him,  in the event that you’ve already begun doing so.   he is not the one i allow to stay in my quarters for a  reason.  ”

very  well,   then.   perhaps  later  i  will  call  upon  yoshitsugu.

------------  ah.   is  this  howakkorō is going to play this  ?   it  sounds  suspiciously like an attempt to make mitsunari jealous.   and now he truly  is  shutting down,  for if he  isn’t  misreading the situation,  he simply doesn’t have the  time  for this.   mitsunari understands and appreciates petty  ---  until it’s directed at him,  and until he  thinks  he doesn’t deserve it.

akkorō believes himself to be cold  ;   mitsunari has become impeccable at dousing the flames within his heart and freezing it over when he has to.

(  why  won’t  you  cry,   sakichi  ?!  )

they  love  each  other.  It’s  so  obvious  to  Sora  now,   and  so  incredible  what  you’ll  see  in  people  once  you  stop  expecting  the  worst.   Akkorō’s  eyes  are  hard  and  dangerous,   but  beneath  all  of  that  is  a  desperation  that  he  knows  that  he’s  seen  before.   (  He  thinks  of  Riku,   and  his  heart  cinches  taut beneath  his  breast.   Riku’s  looked  at  him  this  way,   more  than  once.   )

They  call  him  my  shadow.   I  call  him  my  heart.

Even  here,   in  this  world  that  cannot  comprehend  himself  or  his  friends,   (   or  the  dangers  of  Organization  XIII   )  they  speak  of hearts.

They  love  each  other. (  Riku  loves  him? He  loves  Riku  back?   He  doesn’t  have  time  to  think  about  that  right  now.   )

He  bows,   just  as  Goofy  did  moments  before.

❝   S—Sorry   …   for  attacking  him,   then.   I—I  just  thought   —   ❞

‹   You  needn’t  apologize,   although  I  assure  you  that  I  would  never  harm  Mitsunari.   He  is  my  heart,   as  well.  ›

Sora  smiles  at  that,   because  he  loves  love  more  than  anything  else! (   Beneath  his  mask,   Akkorō  smiles,   too   /   sheathes  his  sword  so  that  he  might  settle  a  hand  within  the  small  of  Mitsunari’s  back.   )

❝   So,   an “entire  army”,  Mister  Akkorō?   Er   ———   “Lord”  Akkorō?   ❞

‹   Just  Akkorō,   please.   Not  even  my  “entire  army” addresses  me  as “lord”.  ›

(  He  supposes  that  it  isn’t  worth  mentioning  that  he  is  technically  still  a  lord  within  the  Chōsokabe   —   and  he  hopes,   for  once,   that  Mitsunari  will  keep  his  big  mouth  shut  about  it.   )

❝   —   if  you  say  so,  “just  Akkorō”.   ❞

Masanori  burst  into  camp  hollering  about  these  small,   black  creatures  with  beady  yellow  eyes.   That  was   …   yesterday.  

Sora  gasps,   re-summons  his  Keyblade.

❝   Heartless!  I  knew  there  had  to  be  a  reason  we  came  here!  ❞

You  know  about  them,   then?

❝   Mm-hmm.  ❞   He  nods,   eager  to  finally  be  of  some   (   real   )   help!   ❝   Those “Organization  XIII”  people  I  mentioned?   They   …   “use”  them  to  do  bad  things.   That’s  why  I  attacked  Akkorō  without  really  thinking.   They  all  wear  creepy  black  cloaks,   s—so  I  thought   …   ❞

‹   Ah.   Well,   you  needn’t  worry.   My  only  crime  is  being  horrendously  ugly.  ›

The  sadness  that  Sora  feels  from  the  statement  feels  like  teeth  sinking  into  his  chest.   (   He  doesn’t  think  that  he’s  ever  met  someone  as  sad  as  Akkorō,   wonders  what  could  possibly  have  happened  to  him  to  make  him  feel  this  way.   )

Perhaps  I  ought  to  bring  you  to  him,  instead.   I  think  I’d  like  to   —   see  these  things  for  myself.

❝  Yeah,   definitely!   but,   maybe  you  should hang  back  from  the  Heartless,   Lord  Mitsunari.   They’re  serious  trouble.   You  could  get  hurt.   ❞

Sora  glances  at  Akkorō,   now,   and  the  man  nods  an  understanding   —   or,   maybe  it’s  a thanks.

‹   I  agree.   Let  us  not  rush  to  confront  an  enemy  which  we  do  not  understand.   We  will  speak  with  Masanori   —   Gods  help  us   —   and  then,   from  there,   we  may  devise  a  plan.   You  are  exceptionally  good at  that,   my  love.   With  your  wisdom  to  guide  our  blades,   I  will  fear  far  less   —   and  then  you  may  sate  your  curiosity  with  these   …   “Heartless”.   ›

❝   Yeah!   ❞   Sora  chimes  in,   pumps  a  fist  in  the  air  for  emphasis.   ❝   We’ll  be  your  Shadow,   too,   Lord  Mitsunari!   Those  Heartless  won’t  know  what  hit  ‘em  if  we  work  together!   Whaddaya  say?!   ❞

IT’S  A  STRANGE  FEELING,   coming  into  the  realization  that  something  which  has  no  right  to  be  real  is.   mitsunari feels like his grasp on reality has weakened,  just a touch,  continues to weaken further the longer he stares at the boy,  the duck,  the  dog  on its hind legs named  goofy.   now there’s those damn creatures that masanori  apparently  wasn’t hallucinating,  and sora is calling them  heartless,  and mitsunari knows that by the time he actually meets face - to - face with them,  he’s going to figure that  this  might  as  well  happen.

next,  he might learn that this  ‘ organization xiii ’  consists of people literally without hearts,  and that the duck and the dog answer to a  mouse.   and by the time he learns that the dog has procreated,  he might be completely desensitized,  and perhaps a little dead inside.   maybe  he’ll  become a heartless.   is such a thing even possible  ?

a  little  early  in  the  game  to  be  having  a  crisis  centered  around  the  talking  dog,   he chides himself.

those  ‘ organization  xiii ’  people  i  mentioned  ?   they  ...   ‘ use ’  them  to  do  bad  things.   that’s  why  i  attacked  akkorō  without  really  thinking.   they  all  wear  creepy  black  cloaks,   so  i  thought  ... ah.   well,   you  needn’t  worry.   my  only  crime  is  being  horrendously  ugly.

just in time for mitsunari to snap back into focus.

“  stop  that,  ”   he repeats.   “  the  real  crime is how you say such  inaccurate  things in front of me.  ”   and how he treats his hair,  but he’ll  spare  him from being called out for it in front of an audience.

briefly,  just briefly,  mitsunari prepares to voice his concern over how akkorō has handled this news so  calmly.

but,  he remembers mitsuhide   (  not that he  ever  allows himself to truly  forget  ),  and his chest tightens uncomfortably.   he remembers nearly walking in on akkorō speaking to a ghost that mitsunari could not see,  perhaps was never even there to begin with.   he remembers holding akkorō that much tighter that night,  and every night that followed.

the two of them wear their hearts on their sleeve in different ways  ;   akkorō is equal parts love and sadness,  loves so wholly and so much,  and yet his sadness is an aura he may not necessarily intend to exude.   mitsunari is  passionate  and yet his own sadness remains internalized,  freezes over as he grows cold and pierces him through the heart whenever it manifests,  and one of these days his heart will bleed out and he won’t know how to  stop  it.

he’ll keep his thoughts to himself.

maybe  you  should  hang  back  from  the  heartless,   lord  mitsunari.   they’re  serious  trouble.   you  could  get  hurt.

he hmphs  !   fails to understand how they could possibly be any more dangerous than staring down the barrel of a rifle.   considers making his opinion known  ---  but then decides it’s not worth the additional lecture.

we  will  speak  with  masanori   ------   gods  help  us   ------

that earns akkorō a snort.

------   and  then,   from  there,   we  may  devise  a  plan.   you  are  exceptionally  good  at  that,   my  love.   with  your  wisdom  to  guide  our  blades,   i  will  fear  far  less   —   and  then  you  may  sate  your  curiosity  with  these   …   ‘ heartless. ’  yeah  !   we’ll  be  your  shadow,   too,   lord  mitsunari  !   those  heartless  won’t  know  what  hit  ‘em  if  we  work  together  !   whaddaya  say  ?!

there is obviously no denying that what they are proposing makes  sense.   and there’s also no denying that sora’s enthusiasm is  endearing,   reminds him of yukimura,  and kanetsugu   (  and he hopes they are faring well under the new circumstances,  too  ).

❝   ———   huh?   ❞

Sora  blinks,   taken  aback  by  the  reprimand,   lets  his  guard  down  just  enough  for  the  man  in  the  mask  to  press  his  defense   —   completes  the  swing  of  his  lengthy  blade  with  such  a  force  that  Sora  stumbles  backward,   and  his  Keyblade  disappears  into  thin  air. 

❝   —   but,   he———   !   ❞

He’s  with  me.   Your  intent  is  admirable,   but  you’d  do  well  to  learn  to  assess  the  situation  better.

❝   Hey!   I  was  only  trying  to  help!   ❞

He’s  right,   you  know!  You  do  tend  to  rush  into  things,   Sora.

❝   Whose  side  are  you  guys  on,   anyway?!   Y—You  had  your  weapons  out,   too!   ❞

We’re  sworn  to  follow  the  Keyblade’s  Chosen!

❝   Oh,   don’t  give  me  that!   You  thought  he  was  a  member  of  Organization  XIII,   too!   ❞

Akkorō  tenses  at  the  name,   tightens  his  grip  ‘pon  his  blade  and  wields  it  with  both  hands,   positions  himself  protectively  in  front  of  Mitsunari.   (   He  may  not  understand  what  they’re  talking  about,   but  he  does  understand  that  they  believe  him  to  be  a  threat   —   which  means  that,   whoever  this  “Organization  XIII”  may  be,   they  are  also  a  threat.   He  wishes  that  Mitsunari  were  taking  this  a  mite  more  seriously.   )

He  looks  like  he’s  protecting  him.

❝   Yeah.   No  Organization  member  would  do  that.   ❞

State  your  name  and  purpose  here.   As  I’m  certain  I’m  dreaming,   I’m  not  even  going  to  question  those  two  things  behind  you. 

“Things”?! Aw,   shucks.   That  kinda  stung  a  little.

❝   Hey!   You  can’t  just  talk  to  people  like  that!   ❞

‹   You  will  have  care  how  you  speak  to  my  lord.   You  are  fortunate  he  did  not  blindly  attack  them.   ›

Sora  recoils  at  that,   knows  the  masked  man  is  right.

❝   Sorry,   ❞   he  offers,   and  Donald  and  Goofy  chime  in  with  apologies  of  their  own. 

‹   Do  as  he  commands.   State  your  name  and  purpose  here.   ›

❝   Oh!   Right.   I’m  Sora!   This  is  Donald   —   ❞   a  gesture  toward  the  “massive  duck”,   ❝   —   and,   that’s  Goofy.   ❞   The  dog  bows,   and  Akkorō  cannot  decide  if  it  is  a  mockery  or  a  genuine  display  of  respect.   ❝   O—Our  “purpose”  is,   uh   —   ❞

Are  you  here  to  seek  an  audience  with  Lord  Hideyoshi?

Don’t  offer  them  one,   idiot!   Akkorō  thinks   — but,   it  would  seem  that  this  “Sora”  is  an  even  bigger  idiot.

❝   Lord  who?   I  thought  you  were  the  lord.   ❞

‹   It  is  a  chain  of  command.   I  answer  to  Mitsunari,   and  Mitsunari  answers  to  Lord  Hideyoshi.   ›

Who  answers  to  you?

‹   No  one.   Even  a  chain  ends  somewhere.   ›

There’s  something  in  the  masked  man’s  voice  that  sounds  so  sad,   and  it  makes  Sora’s  heart  ache  for  him.

❝   Well,   you  have  the  sword,   so  I  guess  we  answer  to  you  now.   ❞

‹   No.   You  answer  to  Mitsunari,   just  as  I  do.   You  will  do  well  to  remember  that  I  am  of  no  consequence.   Now,   do  you  wish  to  meet  with  Lord  Hideyoshi,   or  not?   ›

Sora’s  hands  furl  into  fists  at  his  sides,   because  he  knows  that  there  must  be  more  going  on  in  this  world  than  one  man’s  sadness,   but  he  still  wants  to  fix  it!

❝   Sure,   ❞   he  finally  answers,   glances  back  at  Mitsunari.   (   Sora  wonders  why  he  wears  such  scary  horns,   wonders  if  he’s  the  cause  of  the  masked  man’s  sadness,   wonders  why  the  masked  man  would  still  protect  him  if  that  were  the  case.   )   ❝   Has  anyone  here  noticed  any  weird   …   creatures?   and,   don’t  say  Donald  and  Goofy!   ❞   @jiboshou!

THE  LONGER  THIS  GOES  ON,   the  more  mitsunari  continues  to  think  he’s  losing  his mind   ------   for  he  definitely  saw  that  kid’s  weapon  disappear  into  thin  air.   he almost wishes  he’d  been attacked instead.   maybe then,  he would already be  awake.

we’re  sworn  to  follow  the  keyblade’s  chosen  !

is that what that weapon is supposed to be  ?   mitsunari supposes it looks similar enough to a key.   he finds himself stuck on the word  chosen.   is the keyblade a sentient being  ?   how does it  choose  ?

where in the  world  did his mind come up with this stuff  ?

you  thought  he  was  a  member  of  organization  xiii,   too  !

apparently,  it gets worse.   the bickering is getting hard to follow,  and he’s grateful that akkorō is doing much of the talking for him,  because he’s slowly starting to lose his patience   (  why  won’t he wake up  ?  ).

i’m  sora  !   this  is  donald   ------   and  that’s  goofy.

good grief.   the dog’s name is goofy.   he looks to akkorō,  with slightly widened,  pleading eyes  ---  please,   make  this  make  sense.   how in the  world  is he handling this so calmly  ?   or perhaps akkorō acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary is all part of the dream state.

i  thought  you  were  the  lord. it  is  a  chain  of  command.   i  answer  to  mitsunari,   and  mitsunari  answers  to  lord  hideyoshi. who  answers  to  you  ? no  one.   even  a  chain  ends  somewhere.

mitsunari makes an attempt to protest  ---  but sora speaks up again.

well,   you  have  the  sword,   so  i  guess  we  answer  to  you  now. no.   you  answer  to  mitsunari,   just  as  i  do.   you  will  do  well  to  remember  that  i  am  of  no  consequence.

his chest tightens.   must he be so fatalistic,  even in mitsunari’s own dreams  ?   he can’t  stand  hearing him talk like that.

“  stop  that,  ”   he chides,  the sharpness in his voice not without dulled edges.   then,  to sora  ---  “  you  may  answer to him.   he seems to frequently forget we have an entire army of men who do the same.  ”   perhaps even prefer to do so over  him.   it’s understandable.

he still knows it may one day be his undoing.

“  you know my name,  then.   beside me is akkorō.   they call him my shadow.   i call him my heart.  ”   it’s the closest thing to public affection that mitsunari oftentimes gets.   but he also says it because he doesn’t like the way sora glances back at him.   he tends not to care for others’ opinions of himself,  especially not that of a  child’s.   but if his gut is telling him that it involves akkorō  ------

has  anyone  here  noticed  any  weird  ...   creatures  ?   and,   don’t  say  donald  and  goofy  !

they’ve become self - aware.

“  no,  ”   mitsunari answers,  too immediate  ---  pauses,  gives it some thought.   he  truly hasn’t seen anything,  but  ---  he amends:   “  perhaps.   masanori burst into camp  hollering  about these small black creatures with beady yellow eyes.   that was  ...   yesterday.  ”

he’d,  of course,  told masanori he was hallucinating.   but,  this memory is bringing about another revelation.   the emergence of these creatures occurred  before  he went to bed the previous night.

he couldn’t possibly be dreaming. and now he’s starting to feel  nervous.

IT’S  ALWAYS  SOMETHING,   ISN’T  IT  ?

————  is what mitsunari  would  have thought,  initially,  at the sight of a literal kid,  seemingly under the delusion that akkorō was threatening mitsunari,  flinging  himself at akkorō in an attempt to save mitsunari.   as if he  needed  the help.   this would have just been par for the course in mitsunari’s life,  except  then  he witnessed the arrival of a  massive  duck and a dog that stood exclusively on its hind legs  —  both of whom could  talk,  and wear  clothes.

it’s always something,  except now mitsunari is starting to think that maybe he never woke up this morning,  and this was all some absurd dream.   perhaps he oughtn’t eat so close to bedtime.   perhaps he oughtn’t be having such a  late  bedtime.   all things to consider,  if this truly  is  a dream.

don’t  worry,   mister  !   i  …   got  it  covered  !

the kid’s spiky hair was more voluminous than that shimazu pup’s is   (  and they both certainly possess the same spirit  ).   he’s wielding the  strangest  blade,  unlike anything he’s ever seen before.   and akkorō is still in a deadlock with this kid,  although he isn’t really  trying  one way or another.   it would be  entertaining  if mitsunari weren’t currently so preoccupied  ————  with  pinching  himself.

he’s so  certain  that this must be a dream.   but,  he doesn’t wake up.   it seems as though he’ll have to ride this dream out a little longer.   very  well.

“  okay,  that’s enough,  ”   mitsunari says at last  —  directs his words toward the kid with a wave of his hand.   he knows very well thatakkorō could hold his own for significantly longer  —  that he likely doesn’t  need  to intervene,  but if he’s to humor this dream,  then he needs to know what exactly he’s humoring.

“  he’s with  me,  ”   he elaborates,  gesturing toakkorō.   “  your intent is  …   admirable.   but you’d do well to learn to  assess  the situation better.  ”

and,  now that  that’s  out of the way  ——

“  state your name and purpose here.   as i’m certain i’m  dreaming,  i’m not even going to  question  those two things behind you.  ”

he is,  however,  most certainly going to ask about that weapon  ;   out of interest in hearing what the darkest depths of his mind have created for him.

rebellion  must  live,   his  father  once  spoke  to  him   —   and,   until  right  now,   he  has  always  stubbornly  replied  that  rebellion  must  have  something  to  live  for. 

Why  should  I  live  when  others  have  died?   when  Mitsuhide——— Just  how  much  longer  do  you  intend  to  blame  yourself  for  Mitsuhide’s  death? Forever. —   then  it  will  kill  you,   and  Mitsuhide  will  die  again. What  are  you  talking  about? What  do  I  always  say  to  you,   to  all  of  my  men,   before  a  battle? “I  cannot  die,   for  the  voices  of  those  who  have  already  been  lost.” If  either  of  us  were  to  die,   then  Mitsuhide  would  die  with  us.   This  world  would  remember  him  only  as  the  slayer  of  the  Demon  King.   Is  that  what  you  want?   What  of  the  man  who  bandaged  your  wounds,   consoled  your  tears,   held  you  close  while  I  played  for  you  when  you  couldn’t  sleep?!   That  man  lives  only  so  long  as  you  do!

Akkorō  looks  at  Mitsunari  now   —   crying,   bloodied  and  burnt  from  battle  and  bare,   in  heart  and  spirit   —   and  he  realizes,   once  again,   that  his  father  was  right.   If  he  dies,   no  one  else  will  remember  Mitsunari  this  way. 

—   except  for  Kanetsugu,   Yukimura,   Sakon,   Yoshitsugu,   Kiyomasa,   Masanori.   What  is  one  life  in  the  face  of  six?

Enough,   he  chastises  himself,   allows  Mitsunari  to  guide  his  left  arm  around  his  shoulders,   positions  himself  within  the  curve  of  Mitsunari’s  right  arm  around  his  waist.   No  one  else  will  remember  this.   Mitsunari  lives  only  so  long  as  I  do.

A  path  to  our  escape  will  be  further  carved  out  for  us.   All  that  remains  is  for  us  to  follow.

He  adjusts  his  grip  on  his  blade,   rotates  his  wrist   /   his  elbow   /   his  shoulder  to  gauge  the  range  of  motion  of  his  arm   (   —   which  isn’t  much.   Even  the  slightest  movement  stings,   sends  sharp  pain  shooting  down  his  nerves.   He  knows  that  he  will  fight  until  his  body  gives  out,   especially  for  Mitsunari’s  sake;   his  only  fear  is  that  his  body  will  give  out  sooner  than  he  would  like.   )

When  did  this  happen?   Was  this  before  you  left  me,   or  after?

❝   ———   after,   ❞   he  responds,   coolly,   angles  his  head  to  press  his  forehead  to  Mitsunari’s  temple   —   affectionate,   because  he  supposes  that  they  are  long  past  the  point  of  masking  their  feelings  for  each  other   (   and,   perhaps  there  is  still  a  boy  within  him  who  yearns  to  be  held.   )   ❝   I  suppose  that  it  is  nothing  less  than  I  deserve,   hm?   ❞

He  is  joking,   and  he  trusts  that  Mitsunari  will  be  able  to  tell. He  trusts  that  this  is  the  way  that  Mitsunari  would  remember  him.

I’ve  never  had  the  opportunity.

❝   Well,   if  I  am  to  be  of  any  more  use  to  you   —   I  believe  the  opportunity  has  just  presented  itself.   ❞

You  aren’t  the  only  one  here  who  can  fight,   scary  face!

I  agree.   You  have  already  lost  far  too  much  blood.   Removing  the  arrow  now  will  only  ensure  that  your  demise  is  that  much  swifter.

❝   Have  you  always  been  such  a   …   pessimist,   Yoshitsugu?   ❞

We  must  move  quickly,   then   —   as  quickly  as  you  can  manage.   If  I  can  fetch  us  a  horse   ———   that  might  be  easier  for  us,   yes?

Akkorō  means  to  protest,   but  nothing  comes  out  of  his  mouth  save  for  a  trickle  of  blood  and  a  trembling  sigh   —   and  then  he’s  slumping  against  Mitsunari,   dead  weight,   fighting  to  keep  his  eyes  open  and  to  stop  his  stubborn  heart  from  pumping  all  of  the  blood  right  out  of  his  body. 

His  last  conscious  thought   …   is  that  he  hates  it  when  other  people  are  right.

WHAT  A  CRUEL  JOKE  IT  WOULD  BE,   to  have  only  finally  gotten  through  to  akkorо̄,   to  prove  his  love  for  him,   to  prove  that  the  man’s  survival  in  this  war - torn  world  means   everything  to  mitsunari  ;   only  for  akkorо̄  to  succumb  to  his  wounds  anyway.

i  suppose  that  it  is  nothing  less  than  i  deserve,   hm  ?

“  ------------  after everything you have put me through today  ?   certainly.  ”   he knows akkorо̄ is only joking,  which is the only reason why mitsunari has responded in kind as opposed to  scolding  him   (  he would suppose that he’s far too tired,  now,  to scold anyone else,  but nobody should underestimate his occasionally sharp tongue  ).

then,  he scoffs.   “  and i can’t imagine  now  is an appropriate time for me to  try  my  hand  at it.  ”   not when akkorо̄ is so close to bleeding out as it is.   not when mitsunari would only have  one  shot at getting it right,  and failure was  fatal.   he certainly hopes akkorо̄ is joking  !

there’s concern,  near immediately,  when he receives no actual answer regarding the horse  ------  and he starts to slow his pace and ask how he fares,  except instead of slowing,  he comes to a full stop,  akkorо̄ slumping against him entirely.   and mitsunari is not a strong man.

he’s crumpled to the ground almost immediately,  sparking a panic within mitsunari,  because  this  most certainly isn’t a joke.   akkorо̄ wouldn’t go this far to play a prank on him,  not in the middle of a battlefield like this.

he tries to move from beneath akkorо̄,  and can only succeed at flailing,  throwing his arms out.   he cries out for akkorо̄ first,  prays that he might wake,  and he is only feeling weak  ------  then for  any  of his other comrades to help,  until the weight of akkorо̄ is slowly being lifted off of him.

sakon has him,  carries him in his arms while kanetsugu and yukimura help mitsunari up,  a calming hand on each arm,  yoshitsugu calming a distraught masanori,  and kiyomasa retrieving a horse.   and mitsunari is helped onto the horse,  and akkorо̄ is draped over the horse right in front of him  ------  and mitsunari has to hold on as tightly as possible,  to both him and the reins,  for fear that one,  or both,  will fall.

they’re en route back to camp,  where a medic must certainly be awaiting them,  and sakon is following on a horse of his own,  covering their six.   and as they leave that ridiculous battlefield in a cloud of dust,  mitsunari’s panic is replaced with determination.

fight,  akkorо̄.   stay  alive,   just  as  you  said  you  would.

and they arrive at camp,   akkorо̄ miraculously still breathing  ------  and sakon helps get the unconscious man off their horse,  mitsunari slowly sliding off and following him to a medical tent.   he watches,  recovering his composure,  as akkorо̄ is set down,  a doctor tending to his injuries.

and even as sakon departs,  and lady nene enters,  alongside lord hideyoshi,  with apologies  ------  and kanetsugu and yukimura,  and yoshitsugu,  and kiyomasa and masanori,  all enter and wish them both well and exit  ;   mitsunari hardly moves,  hardly sleeps a wink.

he remains at akkorо̄’s side for the duration of the time that he’s unconscious,  kneeling,  watching the rise and fall of the man’s chest,  admiring how  peaceful  he appears while sleeping,  almost as if he hadn’t endured a grueling trial before passing out.   he only steps away to allow himself to be cleaned up.

mitsunari  may  never  have  been  meant  for  war,   but  it  is  the  only  thing  that  Akkorō  knows.   (   The  only  thing  that  Akkorō  knows  is  how  to  fit  inside  of  a  mouth,   because  this  world  is  either  eat  or  be  eaten  and  he’s  built  walls  around  himself  like  teeth.   )   Motochika  trained  him  for  years,   molding  and  folding  him  into  the  perfect  shape  and  sharpening  him  to  a  fine  edge,   so  he  has  never  understood  why  everyone  that  he  knows   ———   including  his  father   ———   refuses  to  allow  him  to  be  anything  other  than  a  blade. 

You  could  give  up  on  this  world  as  a  cynical,   nasty  place;   doing  so  means  death,   however.   I  want  you  to  live   ———   live  excellently!

Sorry,   Father   —   but  a  blade  only  knows  how  to  do  one  thing.

Suddenly,   there  are  hands  on  his  chest   (   —   and,   maybe  it’s  only  a  courtesy  to  Mitsunari  that  he  actually  steps  backward,   because  he’s  the  clumsiest  person  on  Earth  unless  he’s  on  a  battlefield.   )   His  brows  draw  together,   hurt,   confusion,   Why  is  Mitsunari  pushing  me  away?  and  Isn’t  this  what  I’ve  always  wanted?   until  Mitsunari  spins  around  with  his  tessen  unfolded,   slices  across  the  torsos  of  two  soldiers  who  had  been  readying  to  attack.

Mitsunari  is  protecting  him   ——— and,   Akkorō  can’t  stand  it!

You  are  the  fool.

—   three  soldiers,   four   —

What  am  I  to  do  if  you  give  your  life  today,   protecting  me  from  something  so  ridiculous?

Mitsunari’s  never  needed  the  protecting,   and  maybe  that’s  why  it’s  always  been  so  easy  to  imagine  that,   one  day,   he’d  die  doing  it.   (   Mitsunari  already  has  so  many  others  to  protect  him   —   and,   beyond  that,   he  is  far  more  skilled  with  his  tessen  than  he  gives  himself  credit  for.   )

Moving  onward  without  you  is  not  an  option  for  me  anymore.   That  dream  I  told  you  about?   You  are  in  it.

The  statement  knocks  all  of  the  breath  out  of  him,   starts  a  numbness  in  the  tips  of  his  fingers  that  travels  along  his  arms  and  down  his  legs.   (   He  knows  this  feeling,   has  felt  it  only  once  before   ———   love,   like  teeth,   like  a  blade  piercing  his  heart.   He  knows  that  this  is  why  Mitsuhide  and  Kojirō  died  with  swords  in  their  chests.   Love  is  just  another  kind  of  death.   He  cannot  understand  why  Mitsunari  and  his  father  are  too  blind  to  see  it.   )

Suddenly,   Mitsunari  is  kneeling,   and  the  “rebellious  spirit”  that  his  father  always  sings  about  shrivels  up  inside  of  Akkorō  until  it’s  little  more  than  a  pinprick  of  light  in  the  dark  of  his  soul.

Please,   live  for  me.   See  this  through  to  the  end  with  me.   I  am  terrified  of  losing  you.

Sorry,   Father   —   but,   there’s  no  more  rebellion  left  in  me.

Feather-light,   he  settles  the  tips  of  his  fingers  atop  Mitsunari’s  cheek,   sweeps  his  thumb  along  the  arch  of  it,   somehow  still  finds  a  way  to  drive  the  hilt  of  his  sword  hard  into  the  stomach  of  a  soldier  who  thought  that  he  could  sneak  up  on  a  man  with  everything  to  lose   —   brings  his  elbow  back  into  the  soldier’s  nose  until  it  cracks!   (   because  not  everything  is  a  battle  that  need  be  won.   Maybe  no  one  else  need  die  here.   Maybe,   for  the  first  time,   that  includes  himself.   )

❝   All  right,   ❞   he  says,   his  voice  little  more  than  a  whisper  that  crawls  its  way  out  of  the  blood  congealing  within  his  throat.   (   Maybe  all  of  this  numbness  that  he  feels  is  actually  just  exsanguination.   Maybe  that’s  preferable.   )   ❝   All  right,   Mitsunari,   my  heart.   If  it  spares  you  from  ever  again  looking  so  miserable,   I  will   …   do  this  for  you.   ❞

Nearby,   Kanetsugu  proclaims  something  about  love  blossoming  on  the  battlefield,   and  Akkorō  dismisses  the  sentiment  with  a  scoff   (   and  a  smile,   that  only  Mitsunari  will  be  able  to  see.   )

❝   However,   if  your  wish  is  for  me  to  live  beyond  this  exercise,   I  will  require  your  assistance   —   nothing  more  than  your  shoulder  to  lean  upon,   am  I  understood?   I  will  not  have  you  further  exerting  yourself,   but  I  am   …   beginning  to  feel  unwell.   ❞   Another  smile,   and  a  rueful  chuckle   (   that  really  just  sounds  like  a  strained  cough.   )   ❝   I  do  not  suppose  you  have  ever  removed  an  arrowhead  from  flesh  before?   ❞

AT  LAST,   HE  THINKS,   he  has  finally  gotten  through  to  him.   and akkorō‘s thumb brushing across his cheek brings along a wave of warm relief through him  ------  the gears in his brain,  once whirring out of control,  are now humming along,  and he can  think  and  breathe  again.

and he’s looking up at akkorō,  cheeks stained from tears,  lip split open,  headpiece singed,  as he draws in another calming breath,  and maybe this is the first time he’s looking at someone like he’s looking at a wonder of the world,  and also for once is he not even aware of it.

my  heart.

mitsunari slowly rises to his feet again,  and now that his adrenaline is subsiding he’s feeling every ache and pain in his body   (  can only imagine the pain akkorō is feeling  ------  and the gears start whirring again at the reminder,  except this time,  he has everything under control  ).

it is lucky that this is the moment his brain has shifted back into focus,  because he might have scolded kanetsugu for speaking so  loudly,  but akkorō’s smile,  reserved only for him,  fills him with a warmth and newfound determination.

i  will  not  have  you  further  exerting  yourself.

mitsunari would roll his eyes,  wants to  ------  but he knows that he has just accomplished the seemingly impossible task of convincing akkorō to do the same.   the least he could do is return the favor.   he guides akkorō’s arm around his shoulders without hesitation,  allows him to lean on him.   a smirk tugs at his lips  ;   amusement,  despite everything.

“  only  now  are you feeling unwell  ?  ”   he drawls,  only teasing.   “  we best be off,  then.   a path to our escape will be further carved out for us.   all that remains is for us to follow.  ”   hopefully,  it will be as easily done as said.   he’s finally opened himself up to akkorō,  pushed at the break in his own walls until there was a hole big enough for his love to see within,  to see how important it was for him to  survive.   now,  they have to see this the rest of the way through.

his friends have all caught up to them now  ------  kanetsugu,  yukimura,  sakon,  yoshitsugu,  kiyomasa,  masanori   (  friends of mitsunari’s are friends of akkorō‘s  ------  whether the latter wants this to be so,  or not  ).   they will guide them to safety.

to have everyone together,  in one place,  all for  him  ------  for the  toyotomi  ------  it makes him feel grateful,  and lucky,  and blessed,  in this one moment.   he would trust all of them with his life,  and with the life of his lord’s,  and of  akkorō’s.

despite his wounds,  despite akkorō’s,  he feels better than he’s ever felt.   he knows the two of them will recover,  and he feels invincible.   he feels good.

and,  gods,  he feels loved.

i  do  not  suppose  you  have  ever  removed  an  arrowhead  from  flesh  before  ?

snaps back to reality.   and he knows he has to be out of it,  from dehydration and exhaustion,  both physical and mental  ------  but he still chides himself for being so unfocused   (  all he  can  focus on is akkorō,  but too much on the man,  and not enough on his  wounds  ).

finally,  he’s noticed the arrowhead.

“  ------------  when did this happen  ?  ”   eyebrow raised.   “  was this before you  left  me,  or after  ?  ”   his last quip,  an attempt again at humor.   “  how  does this happen  ?  ”   a beat,  for him to remember he was asked a question   (  and he’s realizing he might actually need to forgo paperwork just to  recover  from this mess  ---  how inconvenient  !  ).

“  anyway,  i’ve never had the opportunity.  ”   not entirely true  ---  the last time he was hit with an arrow,  it was removed for him.   but,  that was lucky,  too,  because he had almost been tempted to yank the whole thing out,  and he knows now that would not have ended well for him.

find  one  thing  to  fight  for,   and  protect  it  with  your  life   —   advice  that  he  was  given  long  ago,   and  words  that  he  has  never  understood  until  now   /   until  Mitsunari  Ishida,   and  the  distinction  that  he  would  lay  down  his  life  for  everyone  that  he’s  ever  met  but  he’d  kill  himself  for  Mitsunari  if  he  thought  that  it  would  matter   (   —   and,   honestly,   even  if  it  wouldn’t.   )

Love  and  death  have  always  been  the  same  for  him   —   first  Mitsuhide,   and  then  Kojirō. 

You  have  nothing  to  prove,   idiot!

—   then  I  have  nothing  to  live  for,   so  what  does  it  matter  either  way?

The  walls  of  the  Toyotomi  house  will  fall  apart  at  an  instant  if  they  don’t  stand  together  securely.   that  is  what  this  test  is  about.  

Mitsunari  forgets  that  Akkorō  is  not  now,   nor  has  he  ever  been,   any  part  of  the  Toyotomi  house;   if  he  dies,   the  house  will  remain  standing.   (   Mitsunari  speaks  of  “walls”,   but  Akkorō  has  only  ever  been  the  filthy  doormat  on  the  front  step.   )

Even  this  wound  that  Mitsunari  is  so  worried  about  is  his  own  fault;   he  allowed  himself  too  close  to  another  soldier,   and  caught  the  tip  of  a  blade  between  his  ribs.

All  the  best  daimyō  have  shadows   —   Ieyasu  and  Hanzō,   Ujiyasu  and  Kotarō   …   and  now  you,   Mitsunari  and  Akkorō. 

When  does  a  shadow  cease  to  be  a  loyal  companion,   and  become  a  darkness  that  you  have  to  outrun?

Akkorō!

Steel  rings  against  steel  as  he  brings  his  blade  down  hard  atop  another,   watches  with  a  muted  satisfaction  as  the  enemy  crumples  beneath  him,   (   briefly  thinks  that  perhaps  they  ought  to  have  used  wooden  weapons  during  this  exercise   —   but,   then  there  would  be  no  urgency.   )

Akkorō?

—   not  Mitsunari’s  voice,   something  deeper,   a  voice  that  he  knows  well  and  loathes  above  all  else   —

What  are  you  doing  here?   Where  is  our  lord? —   awaiting  you. You  left  him? I  am  carving  a  path,   so  that  you  may  get  him  to  safety. You  really  are  just  like  him.   

His  breath  rattles  beneath  his  breast   (   the  blade  could  not  possibly  have  gone  so  deep!   )   and  there’s  a  sting  in  his  left  shoulder  like  teeth  that  he  only  now  considers  to  be  an  arrow.   (   He  reaches  behind  him,   fractures  the  shaft   ———   definitely  an  arrow.   )

Master  Sasaki?!   Have  you  seen  Mitsunari?! What  a  foolish  question.   He  is  at  the  garrison,   awaiting  your  rescue. No,   he  isn’t!   The  soldiers  report  him  missing!   Do  you  think  that  he  has  been  taken  again? —   taken  by  madness,   perhaps   —

The  words  die  in  his  mouth,   because  he  hears  his  name  again,   in  a  beautifully  familiar  and  frantic  voice,   and  Kanetsugu  beside  him  is  so  overjoyed  and  concerned  all  at  once  that  it  makes  him  sick. 

❝   You  idiot!   What  are  you  doing  out  h———   ?   ❞

Something  else  dies  in  his  mouth,   this  time   —   anger,   stubbornness,   his  dogged  suicidal  nature   —   because  Mitsunari  looks  so  vulnerable,   so  frightened,   so  in  love,   that,   for  the  first  time  in  his  entire  life,   Akkorō  thinks  that  he’s  come  face-to-face  with  the  one  thing  that  he  cannot  fight.  

❝   Mitsunari?   ❞

He  closes  the  distance  between  them,   hovers  a  hand  near  Mitsunari’s  cheek  before  thinking  better  of  displaying  such  intimacy  in  public.

❝   ———   moron.   Hideyoshi  will  not  spare  my  life  a  second  time,   should  anything  happen  to  you  because  of  me.   Why  did  you  follow  me?   Why  will  you  not  allow  me  to  die?   ❞

SAKON  IS  RIGHT.   (  has  he  ever  been  wrong  ?  )

he  is  just  like  you,   my  lord.   it’s  almost  scary  !

far too much alike.   so much so that mitsunari ought to have realized sooner how their story will end   (  wonders if the same can be said about any of his friends who commit themselves so wholly to him  ---  thinks that,  perhaps,  it is fortunate for kanetsugu that he is still loyal to the uesugi first  ).   maybe being loyal to mitsunari ishida is a curse.   a death sentence.

maybe it’s why he tries so hard to protect everyone,  even if it puts his own life more at risk.   

mitsunari was never meant for war.   he was meant for  numbers,  calculations,  paperwork,  financials.

you’ll  never  understand  the  world  if  you  only  think  of  numbers.

but the world is so much  easier  to comprehend that way  ---  he’d tried to argue.   because he’s spent his days since trying to make sense of it all,  not realizing that these are things he’s known all along.   he’s just never put them into words.

you  idiot  !   what  are  you  doing  out  h------  ?

beyond kanetsugu,  he sees him.

“  ------------  akkorō.  ”

wheezed out,  relief,  and he has to restrain his own self from grasping onto akkorō for dear life,  wishes anyway that akkorō would touch him on the cheek,  as he can tell he wants to.   but he’s sure they have little time for that.

the first thing akkorō does instead is  scold  him.   and he thinks,  maybe,  he deserves this.   but  ------

why  will  you  not  allow  me  to  die  ?

it is anger,  or some other emotion ignited by  passion   (  and  fear  )   that boils within mitsunari,  gives him new strength and more lip.

“  you  are the fool.   what am i to do if you give your life  today,  protecting me from something so  ridiculous  ?!  ”   a solid thrust forward of his arms,  he tries to push akkorō away  ---  a step,  if he’s lucky  ---   and his tessen unfolds,  he twirls around and subdues the two foot soldiers rushing at them,  as graceful as he can manage in his condition,  still panting heavily.

“  why won’t  you  understand  ?   this is  not  your time  !   moving onward without you is not an  option  for me anymore.  ”   another  huff  !   another soldier falls.   and  puff  !   and another.   and he turns to face akkorō again,  trusts that he will act if another soldier comes rushing at him.

“  that  dream  i told you about.   you are  in  it.   and so i ask of you  ---  beg  of you  ---  ”   he lowers himself to his knees.   a fool he may be  ---  and if anyone else tries to bring this up later,  he will deny it up and down.

HAD  ANYONE  ELSE   tried  to  even  touch  his  hair,   mitsunari  would  have  swatted  them  away.   he tends to  hate  it,  tends not to trust  anyone  with it.   but there’s something about the way kaidan handles his hair,  firm concentration and steadiness   (  and he knows he also needs  something  to do with his hands,  and kaidan doesn’t half - ass anything  ).

there’s something about the way kaidan handles his hair that is  soothing.   he’s been so damn tense since being shot up into space and with the reapers already in the process of destroying  everything  ——  his adoptive father already passed,  his home ruined,  his friends likely fighting for their lives while he’s handling financials so far away.

safe,  for now.   but mitsunari has had a bad feeling about this place since being transferred here and the feeling has only gotten worse since the invasion.

if they had hours to spare and he had hair that long,  he’d allow it to last  ——  because he knows that when this is all said and done,  kaidan will be returning to the normandy,  and mitsunari will be in the presidium’s financial district again,  alone.

and being alone is so much harder when one has finally gotten used to not being alone.

quietly contemplative,  eyes closed  —  until now,  when he blinks up and realizes that his hair has been completed,  and kaidan is holding a mirror in back so that he can better see the finished product.   and he admires the biotic’s work,  softening features displaying his approval,  and he turns himself,  allows himself to face kaidan.

such a shame,  he thinks,  every time,  that the most pure and good of souls are the ones ravaged by war  ;   always the hearts that are sad and bleeding.   mitsunari had told himself a very long time ago that he would not possess such a feeling soul.   and,  yet,  here he is.

“  you’ll have to depart soon.  ”   it  is  a question,  but it’s offered as a statement.   he knows the answer.

“  nobody else treats my hair quite like you can.  ”   as if he needs to justify himself for what he’s about to say next.

MITSUNARI  MIGHT  NOT  HAVE   put  too  much  thought  into  his  masquerading  attire.   he thinks it enough that he’s adorned a mask,  simplistic yet with just  enough  flair,  and removed the pelt that usually rests atop his head  ------  and his garb loosely resembles that of those worn in violight,  but only in  aesthetic.

what he lacks in  creativity,  though,  he more than makes up for in technique  ------  every detail he  has  included in his composition is immaculate,  from hair to face to body   (  he’ll do anything for his aesthetic  ).

otherwise,  he’s only here for the sweets.   and because his friends told him he had to show up.

he steps carefully,  keeps to himself.   he’s not particularly looking to be social,  but that tends not to stop anybody ever from speaking with him   (  someday,  maybe,  in the far future,  he’ll be much more  open  to people  ).

“  ------------------  oof.  ”   that is,  until somebody  bumps  into him.   he doesn’t say much else,  only:   “  careful.  ”   whether or not it’s in fear of his  own  clothing or that of the other party’s being messed up is hard to tell.