Rating: M
Characters: Oichi/Katsuie
Tagging: @sengokugenkigirl, @yoolee, @dear-mrs-otome, @frywen-babbles
All that’s left I suppose! Thank you for indulging me in this little journey of sads and shit nobody asked for :D
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3
She lets out a deep breath as she eases into sleep, releasing the ties on her heart and to her past.
Kiyosu castle is empty without her.
No matter how many bodies fill the walls and how many voices rise in War Council, there is a distinct emptiness without her light, her laughter, her pointed looks and barbed words sliding between men who thought themselves great enough to be by her side. The silence of a castle full of men weighs on him, deafens him. He tries not to think about it, about her. No, it has nothing to do with her. It was his fault, he is the only one to blame for her absence in his life. A voice inside him wiggles into his brain and whispers to him late at night when no voice are around to drown it out that he made a mistake. It is all his fault. If only, if only.
He lost his chance.
Preposterous, he never had a chance to begin with, he is the demon of Nobunaga’s army and nowhere near the level of Oich--of Lady Azai. Foolish thoughts need to be banished from his mind and he thrusts himself full-force into War Council planning and execution. He prepares for war with grim light in his eyes, such that even his men notice his disquiet. He rides into battle, taking foolish chances and unbeatable odds. The “Oni” Shibata gives no quarter as he bears down on enemies of the Oda without mercy, leaving death in his wake across the battlefield.
Until. Until he is too far in and he doesn’t realize where he is, until he turns and on all sides cannot make out the banner for his liege lord--he has been surrounded.
It does not end well for Shibata Katsuie.
Maeda rides in desperately when he sees the purple goose fall and the horde of enemy soldiers surge forward--a cry rings out, staking claim to the demon’s head--and his spear booms through the air and scatters those who would feast upon Katsuie’s fall. He practically tumbles from his horse in his haste, there is far too much blood and he pales as he approaches the still figure on the battlefield. After a tense moment of fear he calls for some of his men to hoist Katsuie’s battered form onto a horse to get him back to camp for treatment--for he is alive, but only just.
Months pass, battles pass, wars pass as Katsuie languishes in recovery. He cannot bear to be in Kiyosu castle, shadows and echoes of her memory haunt him in empty hallways as the armies fight on the front, hs loneliness mocking him. He curses his own stupidity, his own voice that drove him to risk so much for so little, only to leave him weak and suffering with nothing to show for his foolishness.
With Oda’s armies absent, Katsuie devotes himself to arts, to writing and song, to strengthening his weakened body, to anything he can do to get his mind away from her memory. Sweat and screaming muscles distract him, and he brutalizes his body to keep his thoughts at bay. For a time he is able to put her from his mind when his body is weary and beaten, exhaustion sapping his ability to care as he lands face down in his futon night after night, alone, still dressed, and his retainers whisper in concern.
Word arrives that the Oda have declared war on the Asakura. Worry takes seed in his mind, tendrils of concern creeping across his thoughts throughout the day, choking his attempts at constant optimism. And when Nobunaga declares they will march on the Asakura, whether the Azai are with them or not, Katusie demands attendance to this war.
Even if he has to face Lord Azai himself, Katusie will not allow this to touch her.
Years of battle wear on her husband, and Oichi is concerned. The Asakura demand the generations-old Azai allegiance be proven, and her own ties to her brother pull at Nagamasa’s heart and at his mind. She feels his tension when he makes love to her, as he lays beside her restless in bed, and even when his shallow sleep does not afford him escape from this torture. When morning comes and he cannot look into her eyes, Oichi knows he made the decision he did not want to make.
She takes his hand and coaxes his eyes to her, cups his cheeks and leans toward him, pulls his forehead to hers and closes her eyes. She smiles, wan and tired, but understanding for the decision he had to make. Oichi is a samurai wife, a samurai daughter, and she knows his burdens and forgives him for them. She loves him still for it, in spite of it, because of it. His kind heart causes his hands to shake as he touches her face in reverence, as he cups her neck and pulls her to him for a long, deep, searching kiss. She whispers her affection to him in between breaths, allowing him to pull her back to the floor and pull off her robes and find his connection to her again.
The day of Nobunaga’s invasion is on the horizon--the whole castle knows and is on edge. Retainers eye Oichi warily, unsure of her motivations and loyalties. She remains at Nagamasa’s side, steadfast and eyes clear. The arrival of her kind friend from Kyoto provides brief respite in a castle full of suspicion towards her, until the name Katsuie passes her friend’s lips as easily as a letter from her brother passes to her hands.
Her heart stops. She tries to hide her shock at the mention of his name, at the abrupt churn of her stomach, by opening the letter to read Nobunaga’s greetings. But angry tears well up in her eyes at her brother’s demand for her departure--he did not raise a samurai bride who would leave her husband at this juncture, and she refuses to abandon the man she loves. She fights with her dearest friend, whose tears are not so well hidden that Oichi does not see them. Oichi understands her concern, but will not herself to be swayed. Her strength is here, at the side of the man she swore herself to, not running back to her big brother on a whim and a letter. She knows she must send her friend back before the battle begins, but she is given so little reprieve. Selfishly she takes as much time as the universe allows her to remain with someone she cares about, at least someone who will stay with her.
Lord Nagamasa informs Oichi that he will be preparing to defend against Nobunaga’s siege, and that she is to stay in the inner sanctum. Oichi does not cry. She assists her husband into his armour. Oichi does not cry. She prays over the omamori she painstakingly ties to Nagamasa’s the sheath of his katana. Oichi does not cry. She stands tall and proud as she sends him off to defend their castle. She is the Lady Azai, and Oichi does not cry.
Instead she sends a bag of beans, tied at both ends, with her dearest friend to return to her brother and Katsuie (no, not to him, just to Nobunaga). Then, Oichi cries. As her body shudders in fits and gasps in the solitude of the Lady’s chambers, her heart breaks. Tears pour down her face as physical pain wracks her body. No matter her love for her lord husband, has her love for Katsuie bound her to betrayal?
Nobunaga’s chef arrives at camp the night before the siege begins, a whirlwind of activity following as it always does. Katsuie had just finished his report to Nobunaga when the tent flap bursts open and a message is thrust upon his Lord’s hands and a breathless voice says the only word Katsuie can hear--Oichi. Oichi. Lady Oichi is here. There. In the castle. Just through the forest, the closest she has been in years.
At the site of their pending siege.
Lord Nagamasa commits seppuku and Oichi is whisked back to Owari with her brother and his troops. Her husband died with honor, but that does not change the fact that the man she loves is gone. Now she is back where she started: as a pawn of the Oda, without love, without life, without choice. Worse than when she started, for now she is seen as a snake in the midst of her own clan, her own family. She is the serpent who shared a bed with the man who betrayed the Oda--retainers whisper behind their hands that she would betray her own brother again if given the chance. Their words slash at her wounded heart; she did not choose the Azai to begin with, but now it was her burden to bear the consequences of a choice she did not make. Through it all, she witnesses Katsuie’s joyful and boisterous attitude around the castle. It hurts more than she could have imagined.
Oichi thought her time away, a new life, a new love would heal that wound.
Instead, her heart breaks anew at fresh evidence that Shibata Katsuie never loved her at all and she contributed to the death of the one man who did.
Oichi keeps to her chambers in Kiyosu. On rare occasion he spots her, en route to the baths or the privies. She loses weight over the weeks that pass, her figure growing wispy and frail and he hurts. He tries to keep his own cheer, to encourage his men and laughter and to keep himself together because every time he sees her, his heart shatters again at the sight.
Her gaunt face haunts him. Her empty eyes. Where there once was steel, now there is only water. The light of Kiyosu fades.
Then she begins to refuse meals altogether.
Even her friend from Kyoto returns to the main hall once again, spurned from Oichi’s room, laden with a full tray and hopeless eyes and Nobunaga huffs his irritation at his sister. Katsuie’s heart is seized by panic--he almost allowed himself to let her go once, but not again. He will never allow the Great Lady Oichi to waste away to nothing from this suffering.
Oichi does not want to see anyone, and she snaps at the knocking on her door. She is not hungry and she will not take an audience. But when a deep voice rumbles through the shoji to announce himself, she panics. Least of all does she want to see Shibata Katsuie, the man who stole her heart and held it close all these years and yet still, still worries for her as a father worries for his daughter. She tells him to leave, and he opens her door instead. She tells him to die, to give her peace, and he steps inside and slides the door shut instead. But she won’t turn around. He will force his paternal feelings on her, fine, but she will not give him anything in return. Oichi refuses Katsuie the satisfaction of her tears, of knowing her pain. She won’t let him know her heart still belongs to him.
Why else would he be here than to make her suffer more when he knows she has been broken by him before?
Moments pass in silence, the atmosphere between them growing thick and aged and strained. Years of silence stretch between them, words unsaid and hearts sealed from one another for so long. Inaction, foolish behavior, pain, their shared history and individual suffering twists in the still air between them. Finally, voice thick with his own tears, Katsuie creaks open the shutters on his heart and lays himself bare.
“Oichi...my Lady Oichi. I know you are suffering, and I know you don’t want to see me. But I am here. You can rely on me. Or you can turn away from me. But I will always be here for you, and I will always wait for you as I have all these years. My heart will always be yours. Even if you choose to go somewhere else, even if Lord Nobunaga asks you to bind the Oda to another in support of his pursuit of Divine Rule. If you need me...I am here.”
Tears threaten Oichi silently she listens to him speak. Dumbstruck at his words, she turns halfway around to see him standing in front of the paper doors, his broad shoulders framed by the mid-afternoon sun.
For him, there is and never will be anyone but her. He pulls from his pocket a small silver kanzashi, tiny bira-bira strips tinkling in the afternoon sun and the Shibata goose stamped upon its fan and holds it out to her. His hands shake as he awaits her response. Her lashes tremble as she takes in a shaky breath, allowing his words to sink into her skin and her mind and her heart. Then, fat teardrops surge past wide eyes as she turns fully towards him and throws herself into his arms, finally.
