A little more of my art stuff that never got uploaded.
Featuring how my Kitsune Saniwa, Kokuyo went from purely a TR OC to having an origin story based in the Onmyoji universe.
Her story's not actually cast in stone yet as one will be able to see from a later post. These were just a bunch of drafts and plotbunnies that were just purely drawn for fun.
There will be illustrations drawn and stories written in future to tell more about her... that is if anyone is actually interested to know lol. Honestly its just for my own entertainment and satisfaction. If anyone out there finds these and can enjoy it, that's a bonus for me 😊
Yamatonokami Yasusada elects to join the shinsengumi to route out the potential threat against them. During his mission he is visited by Kashuu bearing a gift from home. (Inspired by Bakumatsu Tenrouden, but it’s not necessary to have seen the musical to read the story.)
Female Saniwa x Yamatonokami Yasusada (implied, they’re still working on it)
Read on AO3 instead: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490114
“Kiyomitsu?” Yasusada hopped down from the low branch he had been concealed within. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m glad to see you, too.” The other had emerged from the thicket of trees on the outskirt of town. The red of his outfit seemed to bleed into the black amid the shadows of a moonless night.
Yasusada flashed him an annoyed scowl. “Is Horikawa alright?”
“He’s fine. He just got tired of looking after you.”
“I doubt that.” Yasusada rolled his eyes, propping his hands on the hilt of his sword. “I don’t have anything new to report and there’s still no signs of the enemy. So you can go home.”
They had not exactly parted on the best of terms last time they had seen each other. He still found himself recounting their last shouting match, flipping it over and over in his mind. Who was right, who was wrong? Yasusada felt he was no closer to discovering the truth than he was when the words had flew from his mouth.
“Why so quick to get rid of me?” Kiyomitsu sat himself below the wide tree, stretching his legs out and crossing his shiny boots at the ankle. “Besides, I brought you something.”
“You did?” Yasusada tried to keep the interest out of his voice while images of little treats from home paraded their way through his mind like obedient soldiers.
“Of course. You’ve been with the Shinsengumi for several years now. You must be missing some things.”
Yasusada flopped down beside his oldest friend, pulling his knees up against his chest, but Kiyomitsu made no effort to produce any of these promised gifts.
“Well?” he finally demanded.
Kiyomitsu only chuckled at his impatience and pulled a small photo from an inside pocket of his jacket, waving it just out of reach.
“Here you go.”
“Eh? A picture?” Yasusada reached out to snatch it away.
“Konnosuke goes back occasionally to bring us supplies. I asked him to bring this back.”
The photo was small, only two or three inches square in size. It must have come from one of the newer cameras Mutsonokami had that could spit out a picture seconds after it was taken. The image showed a young woman, her long black hair wound up in a lopsided bun, laughing at something off screen.
“Aruji…” he breathed. How long had it been since he had seen her? When he had assigned himself this mission he had sworn that he would not forget a single detail of her features. But staring now at this photo in vivid colors he realized how faded and fuzzy his memory had grown. Every time he thought of her it must have worn away an edge of clarity.
It brought back all the loneliness and uncertainty that plagued him each night. He was surrounded by Shinsengumi brethren, but each night he could only feel alone, strangely distant from their cause. Only the tiny glimpses of his former master he allowed himself kept him on his path.
“How is she?” he croaked around the weight that suddenly sat upon his chest.
Kiyomitsu shrugged a shoulder in his nonchalant way, kindly ignoring the cracks in his companions words.
“Fine.”
The funny way time travel worked it had probably been only months for her while years had passed for him. He refused to let himself drift into wondering if she ever thought of him. He knew the truth. She worried about all of them almost to a fault. For some reason that knowledge did not seem to quell the strange longing in his heart. Why were those thoughts not the thoughts his heart seemed to need?
Kiyomitsu turned to stare at him, the red in his irises piercing in the moonlight.
“Do you love, aruji?”
Yasusada squawked like a frog being hugged. He hid the photo against his chest as if the person in it might overhear this illicit conversation.
“What?!”
Kiyomitsu shrugged and gazed fondly at his nails, choosing to not respond to the question. How could he even see them with no moonlight?
“I mean… We all love her, everyone does.” Yasusada rambled. His answer sounded rehearsed, even to him. “She gave us human form and she cares for us. How could we not? Right?”
He brought the picture back into view.
Did he love her in the way that Kiyomitsu was suggesting? What even was love to a tsukimogami?
Mutsunokami often talked about how he loved the beautiful women in the magazines lying around the citadel. He remarked on their hair, their clothes, their physical features. Yasusada could agree that those things were nice, but did they constitute love?
When Yasusada looked at this photo he found himself skipping over those things. He found himself instead thinking about how she laughed when he told fanciful stories, weaving them together with wild gestures and run on sentences just to see her smile grow.
He thought of her hands when she wrote with the brush, how slender and elegant her fingers looked as they helped mend the never shrinking pile of worn clothing.
He remembered the quiet times. The many times she had stayed up with him, listening to him pour his heart out about Okita and the past. Kiyomitsu refused to speak of the man, but she would pry him with questions and smile at his wistful memories.
“Why do you indulge me for so long when you’re so busy, aruji?” he had once asked.
“Because it’s important to you, Yasusada,”she had replied.
He should have asked about her own life, her own past. He knew so little about her.
Just another thing that haunted his sleepless nights.
He thought back to the first time he had been made leader of a unit, how she had praised him in front of the entire citadel upon their return. Despite his many obvious errors she had made him feel like the sun.
When had he taken note of so many of her facets?
“I want aruji to be happy.” Kiyomitsu finally interrupted his musings. His chin was tilted up as if he were admiring the absent moon. “But don’t think I’m just going to let you win so easily.”
Yasusada smiled at his friends profile.
“I don’t think she’ll be very happy if our arguing increases.”
Kiyomitsu glanced back at the photo.
“Do you need to keep that?’
Yasusada took a final long look at the photograph before handing it back.
“No, it’s too dangerous to have in this era.” It was his turn to look toward the absent moon. “Besides, I don’t need it.”
Not because he was denying her, not because he did not want Kiyomitsu to know his poorly kept secret. He just did not need a picture of someone who lived so snugly in his heart.
“Alright. I’ll hold onto it until you get back then.”
Yasusada nodded sharply, drawing in a breath of the slowly chilling air.
“And I’ll let her know the Shinsengumi hasn’t seen fit to drown you yet.”
