Fandom: ikemen Sengoku
Characters: Yukimura, Muramasa
Warnings: character death
Word count: 523
Betareading: @reneotomegirl
Summary: Muramasa is awaiting Yukimura after battle. But Yuki isn’t coming.
Cross-posted on Ao3.
The clamour of the battle has died down, Muramasa couldn’t hear even any pained moans from the battlefield. He sniffed the wind, but he couldn’t find anything but the metallic stench of blood, the smell of death and crushed grass. He remembered catching Yukimura’s scent there, hidden among other humans marching and running in the daytime, but now, in the dark night he couldn’t find it anymore.
He closed his eyes and focused on the smells from the open area. None of the fallen men were alive. The wind reeked of death only.
But that wasn’t new.
He turned around to head towards the camp, where Yukimura was always after battle.
Muramasa snuck behind the guards, as usual, and headed towards the scent he knew, to that one tent. But neither there he could find Yukimura. The scent of that one specific person was already worn down a bit, but it was still comforting.
Muramasa settled down on Yukimura’s futon and laid his head on his paws. He spent the whole day awake, observing the battle from a safe distance, but the sleep wouldn’t come. The familiar scent of his human was soothing, but not enough to ease the restlessness in his heart. His ears were twitching at each sound of approaching footsteps, but none of those were Yukimura’s.
When the sunlight started to brighten the dark inside of the tent, Muramasa couldn’t stand the wait anymore. Something was very wrong. Humans never miss their sleep and don’t stay out in the night. They rarely spend the nights anywhere else but in very specific places but maybe they sometimes mistake them. Maybe that was the case.
Muramasa exited the tent and carefully strolled through the quiet camp, sniffing the ground for a trail. He was thorough as never before, checking each tent and searching through scents to find that specific one.
But Yukimura was nowhere to be found.
Soon soldiers started getting up, so Muramasa left the camp. He didn’t know anymore where to look, but he circled around the camp, trying to catch any familiar scent. But as the army started packing up their equipment and retrieved some of the bodies from the battlefield, which they wrapped into cloth before transporting them back with them, Muramasa retreated back to the forest.
When the night came again, Muramasa climbed one of the highest hills.
He raised his head and called. The howl echoed down the hill, the forests, the meadows and fields, and another one, both remained unanswered. But Muramasa waited. Yukimura might have not been the smartest, but surely he’d eventually understand and come. It takes time before lost members of the pack arrive, but as long as Yukimura was close to the battlefield, he should have heard it, no matter where he strayed.
And so, Muramasa waited, and called, time after time through the night. Whenever he had to move, he signalled his location, so Yukimura could follow him – and he soon followed the departed army, back to Kasugayama, where he called again.
And he kept calling, through one night and then through another, and another.
Fandom: Ikemen Revolution
Character: Fenrir, Shushu
Warnings: death, terminal illness, euthanasia
Word count: 772
Summary: Shushu has gotten old... his illness has progressed to the point where that final decision must be made. And Fenrir takes him for a long walk.
It’s been a while since Shushu had taken a walk this long. No wonder he missed them, but even painkillers couldn’t make him strong enough to go as far as he used to. Fenrir couldn’t miss the fact the old dog needed rest almost every corner or that he kept crouching into small spaces as if-
As if he was trying to find a calm place to wither away.
Fenrir knew very well the dog was running out of time. Dr. Tyrrell was more than straightforward telling him the right course of action, but didn’t comment on his choice to try to spend a few more days with Shushu. She just gave him enough medicine to keep his strained body working, the type of medication she wasn’t supposed to hand to anyone. She had been taking care of Shushu since the war, almost for his whole life, so he was sure she understood.
Ray didn’t say a word either.
Fenrir however didn’t miss the fact that he only assigned small, quickly done tasks to him. He probably could see the same coming for Belle someday, sooner rather than later – Belle was in the second half of his life as well. Even if cats had a longer life expectancy, there was no certainty. After all, Shushu wasn’t that old either.
Shushu started lagging behind again, and laid down on the pavement not long after. Fenrir ignored the annoyed glances of some passers-by and sat down next to the dog, pulling him onto his lap.
This was their last walk, and as soon as they would pass the door of Dr. Tyrrell’s clinic… Fenrir just wanted Shushu to spend his last day pampered and loved. The dog leaned into his embrace and closed his eyes when Fenrir started stroking his head and scratching behind his ear. He even placed a few kisses on Shushu’s nose, ignoring the weird glances he was getting from people passing them by.
When the dog recovered a bit of strength, they resumed the walk and headed towards the clinic.
However… the closer they got to the vet, the more energetic Shushu was becoming. He looked at Fenrir with a bright and hopeful face, as if he wasn’t old and ill, as if there was no pain – he seemed absolutely content and happy with the walk. He sniffed every bush passed, every stick or hydrant with great interest and even greater diligence. During breaks, he faced the sun as he relaxed on the lawns.
Shushu seemed to enjoy it, but it was still strange. Fenrir knew that it couldn’t possibly mean that his dog suddenly got better – there was simply no chance for a terminal illness to disappear over the course of minutes.
Shushu sped up a bit, forcing Fenrir to pick up the pace. With spring in his step he walked past the door of the clinic, as if he didn’t notice it and tugged the leash so Fenrir hurried up after him.
“Shushu, not that way.”
But Shushu didn’t react to his voice and didn’t stop pulling.
“Shushu, we have to go inside.”
But the dog was still pretending not to hear Fenrir’s voice, and tried to move forward without looking back, despite Fenrir’s grip on the leash.
Shortening the leash, Fenrir closed the distance to pick him up. He had to carry the dog inside, even if he didn’t want to go there just as much as Shushu. As the dog’s paws rested on his shoulders, Fenrir hugged him tight and hid his face in his soft fur, wetting it with tears. His body seemed fragile, his muscles were a bit limp from illness and pain as he laid weak in his arms – the pretended betterment simply couldn’t fix that. Fenrir let out a few quiet sobs as he slightly rocked Shushu’s body, trying to soothe him at least a bit… at least a tiny bit.
When he entered the clinic and placed Shushu back on the floor, the dog didn’t try to escape anymore. He just looked at Fenrir with an expression of defeat and sorrow, but his posture seemed to say that he gave up.
He wasn’t trying to convince his human anymore. If that was Fenrir’s wish, the dog wasn’t going to fight against what was going to happen next. No matter Fenrir’s attempts to soothe him, to make him feel loved in these last moments, it was clear that the dog knew why he was there. But still, he licked Fenrir’s hand.
And when Dr. Tyrrell invited them to enter, Shushu just followed Fenrir into the private room, his eyes filled with hurt.
Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku
Character: Ieyasu
Warnings: pet angst
Betareading: @jennacat84 @valfraeyja @reneotomegirl - thank you!
Word count: 329
Ieyasu exited the room. He had been cooped up inside since morning and work had been going quite smoothly. He was glad it had. Immersing himself in simple tasks was what he needed now, but there were still things to do today and places to go, and he was expecting to be busy up until late evening. Even now, marching through the hallways, he kept working – coordinating, planning, scheduling to make sure everything was done without further delays. Keeping his mind occupied.
He didn’t need to pay attention to his surroundings, his body would drive him through the typical routine of the day, on pure muscle memory.
Absent-mindedly he headed towards the garden, just as usual, just like every time he had a break, and stepped onto the short grass Wasabi must have grazed not long ago. Out of habit, expecting to find her roaming there and eating flowers, when she thought no one was watching. He looked over the garden and stopped in his tracks.
There was no point.
She wasn’t there anymore.
His routine broke down, interrupted by the sudden reminder. Ieyasu froze mid-step, torn from the thoughts he had escaped to.
The grass in her favourite places had still not grown back, but the flower bed wasn’t damaged even a bit more than it was the last time he had checked. The rain shelter he built for her was standing there, empty, with bedding of cold hay she hadn’t slept on this night. Even that bowl of vegetables he brought that day, hoping her appetite would be back at least for her favourite treats, was still there.
The birds might have been chirping, the leaves might have rustled in the wind, but that one sound was lacking. The silence was screaming into his ears with the absence of hoofsteps.
The garden, once so full of her calming presence, was now painfully still, filled only with reminders of the deer that wasn’t going to use it ever again.
Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku
Character: Kenshin
Warnings: pet angst, death
Betareading: @jennacat84 @valfraeyja @reneotomegirl - thank you!
Word count: 937
Kenshin tucked the rabbit under his kimono, pressing her body to his skin and wrapping the cloth and his arms around her. She was so cold, as if the life was simply leaking from her, death creeping into her body without waiting for her last breath. She twisted her body again, but he steadied it with his hand, trying to give her a sense of stability when her world was spinning. With no avail. She still couldn’t help but roll in his grasp and kick uncontrollably.
Yesterday she was still fighting. Clinging to the ground, to him, to his clothes, trying to keep herself steady in the whirling world. Determined to survive it until it goes away. But it didn’t. The medicine didn’t seem to work. Not on her.
Some of the ill rabbits seemed to have recovered slightly. She, however, was one of those with eyes glassy with fever, less and less conscious every hour. And now she just lay there, not moving a paw, her eyes dull and empty, her body cold and stiff against his chest as if it anticipated what was inevitably coming.
He could have ended it, and yet – he didn’t. He could have just watched her wither, like so many lives he saw fleeting away. But even so, he kept her close, wrapped in fabric and pressed into his stomach, trying to keep the last bit of life in her body.
It shouldn’t be like this. There were almost no threats in the gardens. She wasn’t old. It really seemed like yesterday Ume gave birth to her and her siblings. She should still have had time, she should have still had years ahead.
Years she’d follow him with her mother, snuggle her snout into his face, just like she was doing barely a week ago.
And yet, she had no name. Why didn’t he name her? He never thought about it. She was just one of a group of rabbits he barely bothered to tell one from another. They were there, somewhere in the background, always around, as he thought, but never anything important. He didn’t pay much attention to them. But now one of them was not going to show up to peek into his face anymore. And he had nothing to remember her by.
He didn’t know her personality. She lay down to snuggle up to him, but that was all. Was she one of those shy ones that needed a braver peer to approach him first? Or was she the brave one? He never noticed. But holding her body he still wanted her to have a name.
And yet...
No name seemed suitable today.
He stroked her head with his finger, probably for the first time ever her head specifically, not just any rabbit’s...
He tried to say some obvious names, but all of them sounded false. Wrong.
It couldn’t change the fact he didn’t have anything to remember her by.
It couldn’t change the fact he didn’t pay attention despite the fact that he was the person who should have seen the first symptoms and brought her to a healer. Her and the other ones. And he knew it was his fault. It was his curse to bring death upon anyone and anything who’d get close to him. How could he think the rabbits were safe? How could he simply ignore them, knowing the grim fate hanging over them? Knowing each of them might fall victim to his curse anytime? It wasn’t just the curse. The curse was something he couldn’t fight against. But the neglect wasn’t.
It was his aide who noticed first that some rabbits were unwell, that some were not eating, and notified the healer. His aide. Not him.
The ifs were crushing. If he noticed earlier. If he paid more attention.
If he cared.
If.
And now there was nothing he could do. He tried to delude himself that he was still doing something, at least keeping her warm, no matter how futile it was. That there was still hope the herbs would bring improvement and he’d have a chance to play with her. To finally see her.
Yet he knew it wasn’t really for her. It was for himself. To clear his own regret.
Now he wanted to stay here, with her, at least not to let her die cold and pressed into a corner of the room. So that at least her final moments would be with him reciprocating all the affection he got from her.
But he couldn’t stay. He had work to do, other rabbits to check, just as he should have been doing from the beginning, and barely found that moment to sit down with her and attempt to warm up her body. Only attempt. She was getting cold quicker than he could pass his body heat to her. Death was claiming her even before she would let out her final breath.
He took off his cloak, hoping it would contain at least some of his warmth, and wrapped her tightly in the cloth, then again, loosely in a blanket. This way she shouldn’t be exposed to cold autumn air even if she moved or kicked.
He cast a last look at her. He wasn’t sure anymore what he was hoping for. To see her alive again or for her suffering to end. Then he left the room to check on her brothers.
The next time he came by, with another limp rabbit in his arms, she was still and stiff, and death had already whitened her eyes.
I’m doing different series of these, these are from my Pets and Nostalgia Series!! lemme know what you think, and if you’re interested in having me do one of a photo for you DM me! 5$!
didn't you write that fic where angels were pets because that is literally my favorite
I did. That was me! I’m so glad to hear you liked it.
For anyone who’s interested - The Pets Series
These stories are just written for kink but there’s nothing wrong with that. Obviously, read the content warnings and decide if these are the kinks for you. Various pairings.
