Mirage Of Blaze Fan Fiction ❯ Diplomatic ❯ Diplomatic ( Chapter 1 )

Diplomatic
By LCM

When Takaya was angry he sulked. It was that or cry, and sandwiched between Yuzuru and Haruie in the backseat of Nagahide’s ’87 Toyota, it really wasn’t that hard of a decision. He hadn’t slept in two days and though his black mood had soured away the small talk hours ago, it had gotten to the point where the others breathing grated on his nerves. Gods, it was like they meant to be loud; exhaling heavily just to get a draw out of him. A flame of irrational hatred flickered to existence in his belly, calling forth a tongue of blue flame. Then reason dawned on his tired mind and he suppressed it. Shadowed eyes looking up from their fixed position on the floor, he caught Nagahide’s warning glance in the rearview mirror; while Yasuda might not be able to force him to get over his issues, he would be good at making life unpleasant if he didn’t. Takaya opted to return the glare until necessity made Nagahide turn his attention back on the road with a shrug. It was a pyrrhic victory but sinking back into the seat, Takaya managed to flash a brooding smirk.

It had been two weeks since the debacle at the lake and the Uesugi’s apparent triumph over the Hojo clan. The Feudal Warlords had accepted the implications of the latter, rigging up new sets of intricate alliances and intrigues to counteract the current balance of powers. The first, however, was far from dealt with, as the jacket crumpled at the bottom of Takaya’s travel bag bore witness.

He hadn’t told anyone about Naoe’s confession, but he was certain everyone in the car knew there was something amiss between the two of them. Had they all been filled in on the exact details, he got the feeling he would still be the one most surprised by the action. The information left an acrid, twisting sensation in his mouth, and he fought it down. Bitterness rang too much of Kagetora.

“We’re almost there.”

His best friend’s voice was only a little muted from its usual perky burble, and he resisted the urge to snap. Being mean to Yuzuru was a lot like kicking a puppy and, even in his current state, Takaya hadn’t sunk quite that low.

The road had curved around the mountainside in a tight ice-cream swirl of switchbacks, narrowing as they approached the shrine. Two days ago a warlord’s agent had contacted Haruie. Apparently, the head of the Date family – Takaya hadn’t bothered remembering the man’s name – wished an audience with Lord Kagetora and several of his choice friends. The message had been vague concerning the details of such a discussion, but strongly hinted at a desire to find out more about the activities of one of the younger Date’s among Ranmaru and the Oda.

Narita’s encounter with the resurrected Kojirou had made him an obligatory member of an ambassadorial party; Nagahide and Haruie were simply the obvious accessories.

The path finally petered out into a small gravel lot and when at last the car pulled to a halt Takaya was more than ready to escape the cramped space. On either side, Haruie and Yuzuru made swift exits but before he could do the same Yusuda reached back and stopped him.

“Kagetora. This is a diplomatic mission.”

Shrugging off the other man’s arm, Takaya growled, “What? You don’t think you’ve fucking explained it enough? I know, already.” At Yasuda’s sharp look, he added, “And stop calling me that. I’m not Kagetora.”

For a second, it appeared that Nagahide would merely roll his eyes at the comment and Takaya reached for the door. An instant later he found his wrist pinned, the Possessor’s furious gray gaze upon him.

“Look, you little brat. I’ve been putting up with you for the past two weeks – plus or minus four hundred years – and I’ve about had it. You and Naoe had a tiff again. So what. Stop acting like it’s something new. You’ve driven each other to this, and if you can’t deal with the consequences maybe you should think next time you’re hurting each other.” He turned his head to the window for a moment, evaluating the sky. “It’s getting dark and we can probably stall discussions for the rest of the day. But you’d better have pulled yourself together by tomorrow, Kagetora, or I swear I’ll….” He trailed off, threat gleaming in his eyes.

“Or you’ll what?”

Face going flat and cold, Nagahide smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.

“I sincerely hope you don’t have to find out, my lord.”

Letting go of Takaya’s wrist, he pulled the keys from the ignition and slipped from the car.

Rubbing circulation back into his arm, Takaya sulked.

.oOo.

The path up to the shrine was a difficult one and each twig that snapped under their feet felt like a metaphor for whatever the hell was going on in his head. Takaya was teetering on the edge of exploding. The silence was an invitation for a deluge of memories – mirage of waking dreams – and the words I love you had played themselves nearly hollow.

You don’t do that. You didn’t do that. And if he’d had any doubts, Naoe was crazy because normal people don’t go through all that shit to confess those sorts of things and then just walk off, out of a sunset.

You didn’t leave. And if you did, you came back.

“Lord Kagetora?”

He’d fallen behind the others – stopped by a small stream on the side of the path – and Haruie had come back for him, a worried look in her eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” He snarled the words, and a hurt look passed quickly over her face. Haruie was all bluster and flirt, but of any in their band of ancient freaks, she took his insults most to heart. He could only recall bits and pieces from his time as Kagetora, but he knew her name was one of the few untainted by treachery or dislikes, and at the slight twist in her features he felt a tug of guilt. He didn’t quite have the resolve to apologize, however, so he shuffled his feet and willed the wordless regret in the hunch of his shoulders to be enough.

Haruie was of a forgiving nature; it was. Breaking out into a hesitant smile, she nodded gently.

“Very well, Takaya-sama….” A pause punctuated her words, abruptly uncertain. Naoe and Kagetora had a vicious relationship, cycling through love, hate, scorn, and obsession, and were better off left to their own devices. Previous attempts at mild interference had ended in catastrophic disasters and usually set the two on a crueler track than the one on which they had started. And yet…even Haruie had to admit; Takaya was not Kagetora. Not entirely. Oh, when it came down to it, they were the same person but there were some small, subtle differences between her lord of the past and the man he was now. Takaya remained young in several fashions; he was trusting in a way his former self had not been for many years, dependant beneath his make-up layer of toughness, and still largely untouched by the warrior-princes’ consuming bitterness. He didn’t know the steps in Naoe and Kagetora’s dance, and was idealistic enough to think he didn’t need to. Haruie was so tempted – this once – to step in, meddle just a little and help him find his feet again. The next words felt taboo.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She flounced slightly, attempting to lighten the offer. Too late she wondered if this was a form of betrayal; the Kagetora of old had sworn away forgiveness and reasonability towards the issue long ago. Attempting to ease relations with Naoe while he was submerged by Takaya’s consciousness began to take on a distinctly perfidious air.

“Talk about what?”

He never made it easy. Worrying her lip slightly, Haruie tasted the strawberry tang of lip-gloss and offered the ambiguous,

“Anything.” Trying not to breathe; “Whatever’s bothering you.”

Takaya’s face clouded, and her heart sunk. It seemed time and circumstance couldn’t change anything after all.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” His tone was waspish again and she let herself sigh internally; it hurt her to watch them do this.

On the surface, she managed a bright smile.

“Well, come on then! Yasuda and Yuzuru are probably at the shrine by now, and I should be too.” Turning, she winked over her shoulder. “Even beautiful girls have to shower once in a while.”

He made an exasperated noise, but managed to cage it behind a fond look. They jogged the rest of the way to the temple in relative silence.

.oOo.

As it turned out, the Shofukuji Shrine had no showers. It didn’t even have a decent-sized stream.

What it did boast, however, was buckets. Buckets, and a well so old and caked with moss and grime that it made Haruie wonder if there was truly any water in it at all. She thanked the monk that showed her to it, bowing her head in unfeigned respect, but when he left she went back to eyeing the structure with distaste. The goal was to get rid of the dirt after all.

Making her way up the worn stone steps, she fixed her wooden pail to the end of an ancient rope and lowered it. She hadn’t aged so much that she’d forgotten the way one got clean in the days before hot showers and white wash towels, but in general she preferred not to dwell on that particular aspect of the Feudal Era.

A resistance and the soft splash that echoed up the well’s mouth signaled that she had, indeed, hit some form of liquid. Jangling the cord she waited ‘til it hung heavy and taught before beginning the long haul up once more. When at last she reached down to pull the bucket free, something dark jumped at her from the shadowy depths. Letting out a small noise and making a swift, warding motion, Haruie let go of the container and stepped back into a guarded position. Gaze narrowed and scanning for an attacker, she looked down and found her adversary.

The creature was small; striped black and red with large bulbous eyes that shone with a faint iridescent glow. A newt. Red pooled in her cheeks as angry, embarrassed blotches.

Sometimes she wondered what being a woman was doing to her.

Walking over to the structure once more, she resisted the urge to curse. The pail and its rope were now at the bottom of the well, and how in the world was she supposed to explain that to the monks?

“Here.”

Head snapping up, she felt her jaw gape slightly as Naoe offered her a bucket.

He was in his priest getup, and it was always so odd to see him in formal dress; the ceremonial robes made him look rather like a great, amorphous banana. Sometimes it threw her, and she had to remind herself of his story all over again before she could take him seriously.

Closing her mouth with a small click, Haruie took the offered container.

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to, but her voice came out high and terse. Busying herself with the pail and a second cord, she leaned back against the well and eyed him appraisingly.

He looked….tired. Not in the way Takaya did, with the heavy shadows under his eyes and an acid bite to all he said, but in a way that sunk down past mortal bones and into the Possessor’s soul. He carried himself almost like he always did, but there was a hint of caution in his step that made it seem he might shatter in a strong wind. As though he might simply break down; and she shuddered to think of what then.

“I could ask the same of you,” His tone was painfully normal, a mixture of subtle amusement and wry dryness that took all the little inconsistencies and magnified them by contrast. “I am here to visit an old friend.”

The coincidence stuck nastily in her throat.

“And we’re here on business. The Date wished an audience.”

Naoe was too quick to miss the plural. Voice going sharp – and ah, that was better – he asked,

“We’re?”

Closing her eyes for a moment, Haruie nodded and let the new bucket drop down after its comrade.

“Lord Kagetora, Nagahide, Yuzuru and I.”

The silence bled sorrow.

“…Kagetora is here? Now?”

Back turned, she could still guess at the anguish that must have painted Naoe’s face. As it was, she could hear it in his voice.

Nodding tightly, she responded.

“Yes.” A stroke of luck allowed her to hook onto the original pail, lifting the pair carefully upwards again. The pain that laced the air made it hard to breath. When the she finally hoisted both containers over the edge, the water that filled each proved to be amazingly clear; a quick taste established it to be also faintly sweet. Face drawn, she proffered the little kindness she could.

“Come to my room later tonight and we can talk if you wish.” Remembering her failure with Kagetora, she amended hastily, “I’ll fill you in on the current situations regarding the Warlords.”

Naoe didn’t say anything. When she turned back around, he was gone.

.oOo.

“He’s here.”

Haruie hissed the words, hair damp and wrapped up and in a raggedy towel as she slipped into Nagahide’s room. Sliding the screen door shut behind her, she stormed over to the other Possessor’s side.

Yasuda looked up from his paperwork, eye’s snapping to hers and a frown twisting his lips. There was something deadly in his voice.

“Who?”

“Naoe.” She waited for the storm.

Instead, Yasuda blinked, terse look fading from his face.

“…Oh.”

“Oh?” She stared at him, incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘oh’?” A horrible thought struck. “You didn’t know, did you?”

He snorted, interest pulled back to the transcripts.

“Of course not. I’m hardly the one he goes to with his secrets.” He made a mark in the top corner of one of the sheets. “When you barged in I thought we might be dealing with Ranmaru or that damned Ninja from the Fuma. Naoe’s hardly even a problem. He and Kagetora may have their spats, but he’s is on our side and far from top priority at the moment.”

Haruie couldn’t entirely believe what she was hearing.

“I think you’re forgetting the kind of damage their fall outs can cause. Even if they don’t overtly destroy anything, Lord Kagetora’s bad mood could ruin the entire conference. We both know the Date are probably after some sort of alliance, and that’s not the kind of support we can afford to blow off.”

“I agree.” Nagahide’s voice was level. “So don’t let Kagetora find out. Naoe may be insane, but he has enough common sense to know when the Uesugi’s interests come before his own. He’ll stay out of this one.”

“How can you be sure?” Plum nail polish glittered faintly in the gloom.

Yasuda looked up, adjusting his glasses.

“Why, you’ll tell him.”

.oOo.

The tea was cooling when Naoe found his way to her room. Haruie turned from the open window and smiled – wistful, and almost forlorn – as the pale light of the moon caught his brown hair and made it look silver. She didn’t feel her age often, was too busy to, but for that second it hit her – poignant and bleak.

“Have a seat.” She waved painted nails at the low table, coming over herself to pour the semi-warm liquid into pale porcelain cups. The silence loomed between them, full of unspoken questions and a single presence.

“So, the Date…” She didn’t really have any information that he wouldn’t have figured out one his own.

“Yes. I talked with several of the monks. It seems they’re looking for an alliance with the Uesugi.”

“That’s the likely objective.” She nodded, unnecessarily.

“Hn.”

And there wasn’t anything to say after that. Fumbling, and suddenly irritated, Haruie warned, “Don’t go near him Naoe.” She put as much emphasis in her voice as she could. “This is bigger than the pair of you. Once we have a treaty worked out and under out belts, I know there’s nothing that will stop you both from chasing each other down, but for now just….” She trailed off. “Stay away.”

Naoe’s face was a mask of calm, and he raised the cup to his lips, drinking in small, measured sips. Then he put it down, opening his mouth, and was stopped by a knock on the door.

“Haruie? Haruie, are you awake?”

They froze. Takaya’s timing was, as ever, impeccable. Haruie dropped her cup, and the delicate crash of breaking china shattered any illusions she might have feigned of sleep. There was a pause in the pounding,

“Haruie?”

“One second, Takaya-sama.”

Naoe stood up abruptly, face calm and eyes shining with a wildness that nearly scared her. Abandoning reasonable thought and the two-story drop out of the window, Haruie grabbed the stunned Possessor and his incriminating second tea cup and shoved them into the closet. Closing the door on his mildly stunned face, she hissed,

“Do nothing. Say nothing. Don’t make a sound.”

“Haruie?”

“Coming. ” She made her way to the door, tripping and cursing softly to herself. Opened it with a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I would have any visitors this late.” Batting her eyelashes in a typical show of mock flirtation, she hastily scanned the room for any traces of her previous guest. …His shoes. Oh gods, his shoes; neat and polished at the edge of the tatami mat, easily incriminating. Letting Kagetora into the room, she moved back, kicking the objects to where she hoped was the relatively hidden area behind a large plush chair.

Takaya stepped into the room a little awkwardly, shrugging off his jacket and toying with it idly. Nervous eyes following his hands, Haruie was curious to notice it wasn’t his usual blue and white letterman. The coat was a business man’s cut, fine quality though now rumpled to a state of utter disrepair. Suspicion crept low and uncertain across her mind, and it took all her will not to glance furtively at the closet. Of all the places she had never wanted to be….well. It was a highly regrettable position.

But Takaya was looking angry and as lost as she had ever seen him, and Naoe was probably suffocating, so she made her voice as kind as she could without being obvious and said,

“I’m afraid you startled me into breaking a glass. Here, come in. I’ll pour you some tea.”

She didn’t try to take the coat from him, and he didn’t offer to put it down.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Fetching two more cups from a small cabinet, she took a moment to reheat the water. “The tea’s cooled a bit, but it’ll just be a second in warming. Now, Takaya-sama,” she seated herself across from him. “What was it that you wanted to see me about?”

He looked impossibly uncomfortable, and when he fumbled for the words, she presented him with an easier question.

“Have you slept at all?”

He scowled at nothing in particular.

“A little.” She gave him a small, castigating look.

“We’re in for a long haul tomorrow. You’ll need more rest than that.” Haruie hated to kick him out, not when he actually wanted to try and make things better, but she knew talking about Naoe while he couldn’t help but hear would only lead to problems.

Kagetora didn’t take the hint.

“I know, I just…” He ran a hand through dark hair; took a big breath and when he exhaled Haruie could smell the alcohol. “He said he loved me.”

Time took the moment and tore at her heart strings, while her brain shifted into Panic.

Oh, and this could break everything.

She felt sick, dizziness washing over her as options spun by too fast and crazy to catch hold of. It would be an insult to all three of them to pretend she didn’t know who he was talking about. Stunned stupid, she managed to a tentative,

“And?”

It would never be as simple as three words, with them.

She wasn’t sure Takaya even heard her. Brow furrowed, he leaned over the table, knuckles white on his glass.

“…He left.” A hoarse laugh, “He fucking left.” Anger crept back into his tone. “I didn’t get to…he didn’t let me….”

He misplaced himself, twisted up in his own mind, and Haruie attempted to salvage the situation for all of them.

“Perhaps a little night air will help you think, Kage-“ She caught herself. “Takaya-sama. We can talk about it as we walk, if you wish.”

Empty look in his eye, he nodded in muddled agreement. Reaching over to offer him a hand, her fingers brushed the jacket. His arms tightened around it in a death grip, and suddenly his face was buried in its dark folds and Kagetora was crying. Sobbing all but inaudibly, tangled up into something he couldn’t quite understand. Caught between terror and the sensation of her heart breaking, Haruie froze. In the end, ironicly, it was Ayako who decided things. With a mothering that Haruie’s hidden male soul had never managed to posses, she gathered him up in a loose embrace and shushed softly into his hair.

And when all his tears were nearly spent, he whispered into her shoulder,

“I want him.”

It was ice water, and Haruie was herself again, with too many ways to interpret that and no idea where to begin.

When he left, an hour or so later, she was still trembling.

.oOo.

It was, perhaps, the bravest thing she had ever done. And Haruie had died for Kagetora, but now change spiked the air like dark ambrosia and who knew a little brass handle could ever weigh so much.

It would have been stupid to think Naoe hadn’t heard.

The closet door swung open and his face was masked in black shadow. She stepped forward, blocking the exit.

“Don’t even think of it. He’s on the verge of falling apart.”

The darkness didn’t respond, but an arm reached out, pushing her aside. Strong in the face of his insolence, Haruie pursed her lips, bringing her fingers up to the exorcist guard.

“Naoe. He is your lord.”

“He broke me first.” And she had heard that tone just once before, thirty years ago; vengeful and vicious and utterly without restraint. Not again.

“He is a boy.” She matched his voice with her own. “Takaya. He’s Takaya too, you bastard” Spell signs ready in the silver wash of the moonlight, she thought she saw something flicker through the hunger that stared out of mad eyes. “Takaya. Takaya. Perhaps Kagetora deserves this, but not him. Not yet.”

“They’re the same.” Something had changed, but it was too small, dying before it took root in his mind. Mouth turning down in a grim line, she shoved him back hard into the cramped space.

“They are not and you know it.” Shaking her head fiercely, she felt energy lick down her arms in orange flames. Leaning in close enough to burn, she put her soul in the words. “He can forgive you.” Haruie could feel him fighting himself; a slight shaking that ran through his spirit, if not his body. Control came slowly, bead-of-honey-down-a-spoon-in-July forever.

“You’re lying, Haruie.”

“Maybe.” She conceded the point. “But keep away from him tonight. After that…” She closed her eyes. It was impossible to stop them, but that didn’t make it seem less the traitor’s line. Feeling a little shattered herself, she brought a hand to her temples. “…Promise me.”

She hadn’t asked anything, and so when he acquiesced it didn’t mean much. But it was something, and he knew her unequivocal loyalty to Kagetora ran deeper than anyone else’s, so perhaps it counted after all.

Fetching his shoes, Naoe slid back out into the night.

Haruie went to clean up the tea cups.

.oOo.

The night air was cool and still, so light it felt heavy against his skin. He told himself it felt like snow, and that he’d have to hurry if he wanted to make it off the mountain.

He’d had an iron will once, and though it was in ruins now – cracked and chipped beyond hope of repair – the remnants held on his trek from the Shofukuji Temple. Mind clean and blank as a slate, he’d said his late night goodbyes; murmuring apologetically of family troubles to the wrinkled faces of monk’s he’d known almost all of his host’s body’s life. Fumbling for his shades in the bulky yellow priest’s robes, he stopped an instant later when he remembered he’d left them in the upper corner of his car’s dashboard. Fingers searching blindly, he found his cigarettes instead. Naoe didn’t often smoke while in uniform, but he was tempted.

I want him. I want you.

Something primal and infinitely familiar stirred in his belly; a twisting knot of desire that painted the white walls of his mind with a single, repeating, writhing figure. A million copies and a pair of eyes.

Removing the lighter from concealed pocket, he drew one of the long pale sticks from out of its box and cupped his hand around the flame as it lit. A slow drag filled his lungs with the acrid, soothing smoke, and for a moment his mind unhinged. Four hundred years of fantasies; Kagetora finally humbled, claimed and his, and a newer desire – Takaya, eyes dark and full of coy laughter, spread for him and aching.

Eyes half lidded, Naoe held the breath until his body burned.

Exhaling, he blew the images off – a swirling silver cloud into the darkness.

For now, it was time to go home.

A/N: Considering writing a part two. Smut, perhaps. <3