Im the anon who asked for which mental illness were you ok writting! Could be Ieyasu or Nobunaga with a mc that is having a depressive/anxious episode? you can add as much angst that you want but just a little bit comforting
Ieyasu's finger twitched. “You,” he said to a maid, and she paused in her footsteps, turning to meet him. “My lord?”
“Have you seen the princess anywhere?”
She thought about it, and then shook her head. “No, my lord. I haven't seen her at breakfast, either.” Panic rose in her eyes. “Is something wrong with her? Is she sick?”
Ieyasu hated that he didn't know the answer. He had spent a good few days busying himself with his paperwork and maintaining his fief, plus he also had to cooperate with Mitsunari and Hideyoshi on the matter of training new recruits.
He promised to himself that he would make up for it by spending the rest of the week with her. He was nearing the long list of tasks he had yet to complete, and he was planning to ask her out to town tomorrow.
“I don't know.” The words that left him were smoke after a gun's trigger had been pulled.
He headed to his room, and his steps were not even. He opened the door to his room and his eyes rested on the lump hiding under the blankets. He sighed.
He walked over, kneeling by the futon. “Hey, silly.”
He lifted the blankets slightly and slid his hand under in the gap. A few seconds passed and he felt her hand, a little warm to the touch, reach out to hold his.
He drew circles on her hand with his thumb. “You're warm,” he said. “The maids said they didn't see you at breakfast.”
“We had that thing you made for me once. Pumpkin simmered with ground chicken.”
No answer. Ieyasu braced his forked tongue to stay put. “I liked the one you made for me more, though.”
An answer! He'd always thought of her as a twittering bird, but now he missed her voice dearly. He'd forsaken the clouds despite the clear sky.
“Are you sick? Did Mitsuhide say something to you?”
“Then what's wrong?” He had to be gentle. He couldn't push her like he normally would. He squeezed her hand.
“You know how dogs howl when they're in pain?”
Where was she going with this? “Yeah.”
“It feels like that for me. Except–” She rose from the blankets, revealing her form with disheveled hair and dry lips, her skin as pale as a doll's. Her eyes were swollen. She had been crying. “It feels like I'm hurting all the time.”
His heart ached. “Your heart is sick,” he concluded, and the realisation made him feel guilty. Did he not love her well enough? Did his unruly tongue get the better of him and hurt her one time too many?
She looked at him with her eyes that were once a cloudless sky, now filled with the hazy mist of morning. The tears that were pooling in her eyes caught the light like dew clinging onto leaves after the rain.
He inched forward closer. “Can I…” he swallowed. “Can I hold you?”
She nodded imperceptibly, and he slowly wound his arms over her body and rested his nose in the arc of her neck. He did not hold her tightly, no. Not like he was rope that tried to bound a fugitive. It was like this: he held her around him the way flowers grew towards the sun.
“Everything feels tiring,” she breathed out. “I feel like I'm destroying everything.”
Ieyasu leaned back to look at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She had been suffering for a long time. Simply reasoning or telling her why she was wrong wouldn't help.
He inhaled a breath. “Tomorrow.”
She blinked through her tears. “What?”
“Let's go out tomorrow. We'll find ways to rebuild the things you want.”
“I'm already done. I did all of it so I could spend more time with you.” He raised her hand and pressed a kiss there, delicate as a butterfly's touch. “I promise.”
She sniffed and showed him a smile. It was weak, and it didn't reach her eyes, but it was a smile.
He held her in his arms until she fell asleep, her cheeks drying after her tears had made scars on her face.
She was just a normal person, with high tides and deep trenches. The person that he had thought of as a brilliant, miraculous sky after a storm was the untameable ocean.
It hurt to know that his judgement had been proven wrong, but that wasn't important. He raised a lock of her sunset coloured hair and pressed a kiss there.
Whether you are the sky or the ocean, I will love you no less.