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!
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.
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.
“ 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 ? ”
