Feb 15, 2019
Four seasons on an abandoned railway, by @usalica
Original title uses the expression “shunkashuto” (春夏秋冬, lit “spring, summer, autumn and winter”), which is a yojijukugo - a 4 kanji expression - which reads simply as “4 seasons”
seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Croatia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from Angola
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Belarus
seen from Yemen
Four seasons on an abandoned railway, by @usalica
Original title uses the expression “shunkashuto” (春夏秋冬, lit “spring, summer, autumn and winter”), which is a yojijukugo - a 4 kanji expression - which reads simply as “4 seasons”
Destiny
| Crossroads Alternate Ending |
SLBP Fanfiction [Read on AO3]
Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC
The happy ending Yasumasa and MC (& you, the dear reader) deserve.
This was requested by @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons. Thank you so much for all the kind words in appreciation of the series. 🍁
Word Count: ~5k
Part 3.5 of 春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō
一期一会 | Ichi-go Ichi-e
One time, one meeting.
It was the same dream again.
In the middle of the woods, she was alone save for the trees surrounding her, their leaves still attached although barely, each one already painted crimson. She took a step forward. A crisp maple leaf fell down in front of her eyes and met the ground. Another step. Another maple leaf. Her heart began to quicken its pace despite the stillness of the scenery. She walked, each step she took heavier than the last, and more leaves fell down in synchrony with her steady pace. Soon, she started to run. The crimson leaves fell down like autumn rain around her form. Beneath her feet, they broke apart, but she couldn’t look behind. No matter how much she wanted to, she did everything she could to resist. It wasn’t as if she was being chased—she wasn’t. It was strange. She kept on running as if she was the one chasing something or someone she couldn’t see. A particular feeling of loss, the kind in which the one taken away from her was something she wasn’t sure she ever had, filled her being every single time she would have that vision.
Despite the rush of adrenaline that flowed in her veins, her eyelids fluttered open slowly. Dawn had broken, but her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling fan, her thoughts on the vision of the fall of crimson leaves, the very same scenario she had dreamed of since her childhood. It would always be on the night of the autumnal equinox. She wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand, unsure if the tears she shed were during her sleep or when she woke up. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she rose from bed and went through her morning routine to prepare for work, a little slower than usual as her mind continued to race with recollections of her recurring dream.
The trip from her apartment to the restaurant she worked at kept her closer to the waking world despite her restlessness. She navigated through the busy streets of Tokyo along with other people who were also on the way to their respective workplaces. The dreams of autumn leaves aside, she has big dreams. Prior to moving to the city, she had been residing in the countryside, and a few years ago, she landed a job at a small traditional Japanese restaurant with a positive reputation around the district. The moment she arrived at the place, she went straight to the back room to dress herself in her work clothes: a comfortable pink kimono that she liked so much. She exchanged her sneakers for the geta in her locker, and in front of the full-length mirror, made final adjustments to her clothing.
A gentle knock against the wooden doors drew her attention from fixing her hair. “Come in,” she said as she secured the ends with her favorite hairpin.
The doors slid open, and Sakurako, her coworker and friend, went in. “Good morning!” she greeted, cheerful as always. Sakurako was younger than her and was still a university student, but there has always been a sense of camaraderie between the two of them since the day they met. It was always nice to have her around.
“Good morning, Sakurako.” Already finished dressing up, she trudged to her locker to fix her belongings. She checked the time on her phone, noted that there was still a quarter of an hour left before the restaurant would open, and placed it inside her bag.
“The head chef won’t be around today. She said she’s still in her hometown,” Sakurako informed her.
“Yeah, I got her text message last night.”
“It’s okay. We’ll manage, I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah…”
Sakurako began to open her own locker, but paused when she noticed her friend’s tired expression. “Hm? You okay?”
She turned to Sakurako and managed to put on a smile in hopes of easing her concern. “Yeah, I… I just had a strange dream last night. That’s all.”
Sakurako smiled back, patted her shoulder, and prepared to change into her own kimono. “Ah, I see… Well, remember it was just a dream, okay? Don’t let it worry you too much.”
“Just a dream…” she found herself repeating the phrase in a whisper, the words echoing in the back of her mind.
The day went on, and it was busy as usual. She alternated between kitchen work and front of house duties depending on the hands needed for each area during certain hours while Sakurako worked mostly at the back of the restaurant. It was only after the rush of people coming and going during lunchtime that she was finally able to take a seat behind the counter. Similar to a typical day in the restaurant during that hour, it was empty save for a few tables. She stood up and was planning to ask if Sakurako needed any assistance in the kitchen when the sound of light footsteps against the wooden flooring alerted her that a new customer had come in and was in search of a preferred table. With an immediate bow, she addressed the customer, her voice loud enough to be heard from the distance, “Welcome! Please take a seat, and I’ll be right there with you.”
The customer had the perfect timing. The tea she had just prepared was neither too warm nor too cold at the moment. She aligned the tea implements on a wooden tray and craned her neck to see the silhouette of the customer who had occupied a seat in the corner. Tray balanced in her hands, she padded towards that direction with practiced ease.
“Good afternoon. I'm here to serve your tea,” she said. She set the cup and saucer down on the table, and tipped the pot to pour in the green tea. In those very few seconds, she stole a glance at the man and couldn’t help but stare. For a moment, she forgot how to speak, utterly transfixed at the sight of his copper mane of hair, and the long lashes that framed his eyes as he looked down and browsed the menu. His gaze moved upwards, and her hands trembled when she caught sight of his jade green eyes.
It all happened so quickly.
“Watch it!” The menu discarded on his lap, he took her wrist in one hand and set the teapot upright with another. His agile movements managed to prevent the tea from spilling, a final droplet filling the cup just right to the brim with a ripple.
The aroma of the tea wafted through her senses, and she felt a bit lightheaded. The touch of his skin sent chills down her spine. Her eyes widened both at the sensation and at the unexpected turn of events.
“Oh, no! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed, fixing whatever she could, and moving away. She bowed in apology to him a number of times, half-embarrassed at her rare show of absentmindedness and half-relieved that she didn’t end up spilling the liquid all over the table, or worse, on his clothing. She shut her eyes and prepared herself for the possibility of an irritated comment or even a reprimand.
To her surprise, the man merely clicked his tongue and replied, “It’s fine.”
She couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh of relief as she opened her eyes. She observed him once more, this time with rightful alertness. Eyebrows knit in a glare, he browsed the menu again and paused at a particular section. She cleared her throat before asking, “Um, have you decided on what you’re going to order?”
He placed the booklet down on the table and looked her straight in the eye. “Chestnut manju.”
She bit the inside of her lip and chose her words carefully. “I apologize, but since it’s the season of autumn, the menu exclusive for this time of the year is quite popular with the customers. I’m afraid we’re out of that particular dish at the moment…” It was the truth. Sakurako mentioned that when she served the last batch to a previous customer. Perhaps, her initial thought had been wrong; he didn’t have the perfect timing, after all. Oddly enough, she expected him to sneer, but his lips simply twisted into a frown as he looked away in deep thought instead. He must be disappointed. If it were her, she would be, and she couldn’t help but be disappointed for him. First, she almost spilled his tea due to her unintentional ogling, and now the restaurant didn’t even have the exact dish he wanted from the menu. She looked around at the large number of unoccupied seats, and made a spontaneous decision. “Are you willing to wait?”
His momentary silence made butterflies float in her stomach. “Yes.”
At the single word of affirmation, she gave him a nod and strode to the kitchen.
Sakurako was there, busy with a pile of dishes in the sink. “What’s up?”
“I’m making chestnut manju,” she said as she gathered the ingredients she needed for the dish.
“Oh, so someone ordered that one again. I made some dough a while ago. I think it should be okay now. Want me to help you?” Sakurako asked and moved a bit to the side to make way for her so she could wash her hands.
“You’re a lifesaver! It’s okay. I’ll handle the rest. Thank you, Sakurako, really.”
With the ingredients on the table, she began to work. She wrapped the chestnuts with shiro-an and smoothed them with her palms in gentle but quick motions, motivated to accomplish her task faster for there was someone out there waiting for the dish. The occasional sound of kitchenware gently bumping into each other accompanied the soft music playing on the radio in low volume. She wrapped the chestnuts covered in shiro-an with the dough, glazed them with an egg yolk mixture, and coated the top with poppy seeds as a finishing touch, making the manju reminiscent of a real chestnut. She was satisfied with the presentation so far and knew they would taste as good as they looked. It was almost therapeutic, the way her mind was able to fully focus when she was in the kitchen, her earlier embarrassment momentarily forgotten. The baking process took about half an hour, and soon, the chestnut manju she worked hard for, warm and fresh from the kitchen, were now ready. It took some time, but at last, she was able to serve them on his table.
“Thank you so much for waiting. I hope you’ll enjoy your meal. If you need anything else, just call for me,” she said and bowed.
The moment she raised her head, she smiled, light on her heart as she watched him looking at the sweet delicacy with fondness in his eyes.
The next day was the same old grind; a manageable time during breakfast and a thick crowd at lunchtime. The head chef was back, Sakurako was even livelier, and as for her, she was doing a lot better than she did yesterday. It was a nice day at work. Around two hours after noon, she had seen the last of the lunchtime regulars off and said thank you for coming to everyone when a new customer entered the establishment.
“Welcome! Please take a seat, and—oh, it’s you again...” Her cheeks reddened at the realization that she blurted out her unfiltered thoughts and to the subject of them regardless.
There stood the same man from yesterday, his wavy hair mussed up, blown by the wind. His lips twisted into a familiar sneer, although she could not pinpoint where she had seen it before. “What’s that supposed to mean? Got a problem with it?”
“I… definitely not. It’s... nice to see you again...” she paused, her emotions going haywire for some reason. “Please take a seat, and I’ll serve your tea in a minute.” She didn’t wait to see his reaction, caught off guard at the feeling that she had thought and said too much. Instead, she went to fetch him tea, and made sure to focus and serve it to him properly this time to redeem herself.
The rest of the week passed, and something took her by surprise: that same man dropped by the restaurant everyday. Similar to the first afternoon that he did, he would step into the entrance a few hours after lunch and occupy the same seat in the corner of the room. She approached him a little more comfortably as the days went by, but the same carefulness was always present when she served him tea. Once he had settled down and began to sip his drink, he browsed the menu but stayed a little too long at a particular page.
“The usual?” she asked him when he didn’t say anything.
He frowned but answered, “Yes.”
“Okay, then.”
As expected, he returned for the chestnut manju—again. In truth, the week after he consistently dropped by, she had begun to save a serving of chestnut manju especially for him. Sakurako asked her about it one time, and she replied that she was saving it for a regular customer. Nothing more, nothing less. Her friend raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment on it further for which she was secretly glad of. She was far from admitting it, but she had thoughts she chided herself for having, like that one detail she noticed and told herself didn’t matter: never once did that man bring a companion. Sometimes, she would catch him looking at her, or so she thought. It seemed his gaze had been fixed on the other customer behind her, the banner she stood by when she was at the counter, or the tray she held. So much for being presumptuous, but still, her heart would skip a beat every time.
One afternoon, as he moved to exit the place, she found herself asking, “How was it?”
He paused abruptly, but regained composure in a second and addressed her, “How was what?”
“The food, of course. The chestnut manju.”
“Edible.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you very much.” She couldn’t help but chuckle. In the short interactions she has had with him, it was easy to know that his words were not to be taken so literally. Besides, if the chestnut manju she served him every single afternoon were merely edible, why was it that he kept on coming back again and again?
“Hmph.”
A few days after that exchange, he was around once more during a particularly sunny afternoon. As she was serving him the usual chestnut manju he ordered—his favorite, she had gathered—he stared intently at the other dish meant for another customer on the tray. They were daifuku shaped like rabbits, another part of the seasonal menu for autumn.
“Cute, aren’t they?” she attempted to make conversation, curious of what was inside that mind of his.
Her voice took him out of his reverie, and he looked away, anywhere but her and the daifuku. “Not really…”
“Let me know if you’d like one of these next time. They’re quite popular, but since you’re a regular, I can save the best ones for you.” She didn’t mention it, but she made the daifuku herself from scratch. It was meticulous work, but it was also a fun one, and the finished product was adorable. She was confident in her handiwork and was a hundred percent sure that each one was well-made and flavorful. If he liked the chestnut manju so much, she would bet anything he would like this one as well.
“I said they weren’t cute,” he mumbled under his breath.
She laughed. “Alright, if you insist.”
It was a cycle in a restaurant; customers come and go. Though there were those who gave continued patronage to the establishment, there was no real guarantee of when their return would be or if they were going to return at all. Monday went by; the man who loved chestnut manju didn’t show up at the restaurant. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday—there was no sign of him at all. Even if the time he made his regular afternoon stops in the restaurant had been short, it was enough for her to get used to his presence. The servings of chestnut manju she saved for him in those four days ended up on other customers’ tables. There was a little reluctance on her part when she served them. It was an unusual feeling, to say the least.
On Friday afternoon, she made a delivery for an event in an office located in a nearby district. The workers responsible for the order had been pleased and thankful when they concluded their transaction. All in all, it was a successful one. Still donned in her kimono, she arrived at the restaurant, went straight to the counter, and told Sakurako of the positive feedback they received. “How’s everything going around here?”
Sakurako looked up from the teapot she was polishing. “Kuri dropped by today.”
“Kuri?”
“That guy with chestnut hair! The one you’re always making heart eyes at.”
“What? I don’t recall ever doing something like that…”
“You totally do! Every single time. Anyway, he just sat down for a bit but didn’t order anything. When I was about to serve him tea, he asked where you were, and I told him you were out on an errand today. Do you know him from somewhere? Is he an ex-boyfriend of yours or something?”
Her heart leaped at the knowledge that he dropped by and asked for her, but at the same time, she was disappointed that the timing was off. “What? Where did you even get that idea?” she responded with a half-hearted laugh.
“I don’t know, really, but I had to ask.”
It was almost closing time, and the restaurant was empty. She wandered around the place and started to clean up when she happened to pass by the table the man they were just talking about always occupied. There was something unusual in there, so she came closer and stilled. On the seat’s cushion rested a bouquet of red chrysanthemums tied at its base with a dainty white ribbon. She reached out and picked it up, the action filling her mind with a sense of déjà vu. One by one, each piece fell into place, the vision of the past and present as vivid as the colors of autumn leaves drifting towards the ground. She had no more time to waste. Her footsteps louder and quicker than usual, she marched straight towards the counter. “Sakurako! How long has it been since he left?”
“Who? You mean, Kuri?” Sakurako looked up as she polished the teacup matching the pot.
A bundle of mixed emotions, she nodded.
“Just a few minutes before you arrived, actually.”
“Cover for me for a while, please! Thank you!”
“Wait, what? I mean, okay! There’s no one around, anyway.”
She didn’t get to hear the end of Sakurako’s sentence for the moment her friend had spoken them, she had already been out of the door. The geta she wore clacked against the pavement as she ran from one street to another. For a split second, she worried that her footwear would break, but the concern was quickly discarded, her current situation more urgent than anything else. In her rushed pace, she almost bumped into a number of people multiple times, but she couldn’t find it in her to be as embarrassed as she would be on a regular day. She was quick to bow, mumble a quick apology, and continue running in pursuit of him—the one she had longed to meet again after the cruel hands of fate forbid them to for so long.
It took some time, but she found him. The very man she was searching for was right there, crossing the bridge in a nearby park, his hands tucked inside his coat pockets, a grey scarf wrapped around his neck. The trees all over the space were adorned with lanterns. Red spider lilies stood along the park’s entrance, and she strode past them with a glance; their ephemeral beauty somehow reminiscent of her recurring dreams, giving her an even deeper sense of nostalgia. She began to run faster, her destination to one person only.
“Wait!” she shouted with all her might in hopes that he would hear her.
At the sound of her determined voice, he looked around and spotted her rushing form. To her relief, he realized he was the one she was pertaining to and turned around. He met her halfway across the bridge. A few steps away from her, he asked, “What? Why are you here?”
Now that she has stopped moving, she felt suddenly aware of the ache in the soles of her feet. She grasped the railing and bent her body slightly in an attempt to catch her breath. Somehow, his presence and the sight of the dried leaves as they drifted in the still water under the bridge calmed her. After a few seconds, she straightened up and raised the bouquet of red chrysanthemums in her hand. “These flowers... They’re from you, aren’t they? And the one they’re meant for… is me.”
The sound of cars passing nearby filled the silence that spread between the two of them. His face remained expressionless as he replied, “How can you say so?”
“This.” She fished for the small card inserted inside amongst the stems and showed him the inked text.
Go to the moon-viewing with me tonight.
Moon-viewing in Tokyo was her favorite time of the year. She had gone to the first one in September and had made plans to go to the one set that night—alone. There has always been something so beautiful about the moon in its brightest phase as she stood in the cool autumn weather with traditional music and recitals of heartfelt verses of poets in the background, something that reminded her of the bittersweet feeling in the dreams she would have once a year during the season. She used not to know why, but now, the reason for everything stood right in front of her.
“We’ve met before. A long time ago, we’ve seen the moon together.” Along with her statement was a silent hope that he knew—that he remembered. Warm tears streamed down her cheeks. The figment of the past so clear and tangible, close enough to touch that she called out, “Yasumasa.”
All of his walls broke down at the sound of her voice as she called his name for the first time in a very long time. “Hells.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s really you.”
She could only nod, her face buried in his chest as one hand clutched the soft fabric of his scarf. She breathed in his fragrance and was surrounded by the warmth of his body against the chill of the weather. “Why… Why did you want to go to the moon-viewing?”
“I needed to know.”
“Know what?”
“If it was really you.”
“Now, you know it is. Is there… Is there something else you wish to tell me, Yasumasa?”
“Yes.” He pulled away and put his palms on her shoulders, his eyes meeting hers. “I love you.”
Dressed in a kimono on the day she reunited with him again, she was the same woman from hundreds of years ago, the one he shared a fleeting companionship with. Though time passed and almost everything around them had changed, her heart that loved him still remained. “I love you too, you insufferable man!” she confessed to him through tears, which fell harder than ever that she could barely even see his face.
“I know.” He took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed her wet cheeks himself. A ghost of a smile on his lips, he noted, “Still as bothersome as ever, I see.”
“Shut up.” Somehow, the action made her cry even more, but the tears were not the unwelcome kind, she was happy. She chuckled in disbelief that it took the two of them centuries to say those three words to each other. She must have looked awkward at that moment, smiling and crying at the same time, yet she was on cloud nine, she didn’t care. He was worth it. She had a lot of questions, and she was sure he did, too.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he said, echoing her thoughts as he continued to wipe her tears.
“We do.”
“I thought you were out this afternoon. Don’t tell me you’re slacking off...”
“Hey, what the—I was, okay? I really was out…” Her tears slowly stopped in her defense, and in a second, she concluded this was Yasumasa’s way of comforting her. How strange. She raised the bouquet of flowers once more. “I went here as soon as I saw these.”
He seemed pleased; he had that smirk on. “What time does your shift end?”
She took Yasumasa’s wrist and slid the cuff of his coat aside so she could see the time from his watch. “In about half an hour.” She shifted her gaze to him and asked playfully, “Are you willing to wait?”
“What kind of question is that?” Yasumasa rolled his eyes but continued, “Yes.”
She smiled and motioned towards the park benches located beyond the bridge. “Do you want to stay around here for the meantime? I’ll meet you as soon as I’m finished with work.”
“Hmm... Whatever.”
“Okay.” With one last squeeze of his hand, she turned to leave when she felt him take her wrist. Confused, she turned around. "What is it?”
Once again, he pulled her close to him. In a swift motion, Yasumasa kissed her. Her eyes closed, and she returned his kiss with equal fervor, her arms circling his neck. Despite the urgency of his actions, the kiss was slow and sweet, just like their reunion. Hells, she was so in love with him, and the best part of it all was that he loved her in the same way all along.
The fact that they were in public suddenly dawned on her. Her cheeks burned, and she moved to pull away, her eyes fluttering open and meeting his.
“Yasumasa…” She had meant to say it like a complaint, but his name went past her lips as a needy whisper. It only spurred him on even further. His hands moved from her waist to the small of her back as he bent his head down to capture her lips once more. Like a woman hypnotized, she met him halfway on her tiptoes. It was different from the first one. While the other was gentle, this one was full of passion... and promise. This was a promise sealed with a kiss. When their lips parted, their breaths mingling in light pants, she took the chance to step back and actually pull away from him.
“Y-Yeah. Well... See you later.” She spun around and ran to the exit of the park, flustered but also relieved that no one seemed to be around to see them. Once she was a considerable distance away, she slowed her pace and walked the streets of Tokyo in a daze. He really was Yasumasa. Their paths collided once more, and they had found each other in this lifetime. It was all so surreal, but his words, warmth, and kisses were far from a mere fantasy conjured by her mind. The flowers he gave her were still in her hands, and she knew she would always look at red chrysanthemums fondly. I love you, that was what they meant.
In a few minutes, she arrived back at the restaurant. The moment she entered the door, Sakurako went straight to her, a worried expression on her face that soon changed into a relieved one. “Everything okay? You look like you just cried, but you seem quite… happy? What happened?”
She smiled and went to hug her friend. “A miracle, Sakurako. A miracle.”
The rest of her shift passed by with her constantly checking the clock every two minutes. Sakurako had put two and two together and made a joke half-meant that she had a date with Kuri afterwards. When she kept quiet and laughed nervously with a blush, this time unable to deny the assumption, Sakurako squealed and wished her the best of luck. The minute the restaurant was officially closed, she went to the back room and changed out of her kimono to casual clothing, her worn geta for her more comfortable sneakers. A bundle of chestnut manju and rabbit-shaped daifuku in her hand, she exited the restaurant with the aim of returning to the park to meet Yasumasa.
Only he was already outside, waiting for her. Yasumasa leaned on the nearby wooden pillar with his hands in his pockets and raised his head the moment he heard her approaching. “Took you long enough. Let’s go.”
She envied how even in this lifetime, Yasumasa was so nonchalant about everything, but when he took the package she held and linked their fingers together like it was the most natural thing to do in the world, his palm gave a slight tremble and felt cold. Whether it was from the chill of the weather or from what was in his heart, she wasn't sure. All that mattered was that she would be there for him to take his hand and give him warmth, just as how he would do the same for her now that what was between the two of them was out in the open; reciprocated. He held onto her tightly, but not in a way that was too much or unwelcome, for she held him in the same way, even though this time, the two of them knew that they would not slip from each other’s fingertips.
She wondered if it was possible to feel happiness this whole and genuine just by reuniting with the person she loved the most and realized that this time, they have a lifetime to figure it out.
Once again, thank you to @photoproses for beta reading the initial draft for me.
I also want to thank those left comments/gave me feedback through DMs on Crossroads. I hope this one made you smile. (｡❛ᴗ❛｡)
🍁 🍁 🍁
春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō
| 春 | Heartstrings (Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC)
| 夏 | Sunkissed (Honda Tadakatsu/MC)
| 秋 | Crossroads (Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC)
Destiny [Crossroads Alternate Ending]
| 冬 | ???
Ichigo Daifuku's Masterlist
Crossroads
SLBP Fanfiction [Read on AO3]
Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC
The fleeting companionship of the Divine General and the kitchen wench who both fell like leaves in autumn.
Mature | Mild Sexual Content
This oneshot is set after certain events of Ieyasu's Act 1(!!!), but for the sake of the plot, this MC is not Ieyasu's MC. Think of it as an AU of a sort. ʕ•̀ω•́ʔ✧
Word Count: ~5.1k
Part 3 of 春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō
落葉 | Rakuyou
Fallen leaves.
Beneath the glow of the waxing moon, a man and a woman sat in front of each other.
Pampas grass decorated the entrance of a bustling teahouse in Mikawa. The leaves of deciduous trees had begun to metamorphose into warmer colors, the slight chill in the night air welcoming the customers for dinner. In a far corner table hidden from prying eyes, Yasumasa had a row of chestnut manju on a ceramic plate while his companion, a woman with long dark hair, had seasonal daifuku shaped like rabbits on hers. He was quite fond of this particular teahouse; everything they served him suited his picky palate, although if he were to be asked, he would not answer with those exact words. As he took a bite of the sweet treat, a glance across the table made him aware of the eyes trained on him intently.
“What are you looking at, you irritating little thing?” he challenged.
She chuckled and took a sip of her tea, unperturbed. “Another irritating little thing.” With a sigh, she set the cup down on the table and shifted her gaze towards the cloudy expanse of the sky. “Do you think there really is a bunny making mochi in the moon?”
“What a foolish question. Of course, there is nothing.” He followed her line of sight, only there was not much to see, except for the moon shining down the land like a happy smile in its crescent phase.
Absentmindedly, she took a bite of the tidbit of daifuku on the small dessert stick. “By the way, Lord Yasumasa, that house…”
“What house?” He took a sip of his own drink and feigned ignorance in hopes that she would drop the subject.
“That house where we… you know… don’t make me say it.” Her voice transitioned into whispers with every word spoken, her embarrassment apparent with the way her eyelashes fluttered when she cast her gaze downwards and fiddled with what was left of her food.
It irked him that she insisted to approach the subject matter right then and there, but at the same time, he knew they could not avoid it forever. Yasumasa leaned back and crossed his arms. “What was that? Speak louder, woman.”
“That house where we just had our… our secret tryst! It’s yours, isn’t it?” She opted to move her face closer to him instead of speaking louder. “Is that where you stayed when you… left?”
“You don’t need to sugarcoat everything. You mean after I betrayed the Tokugawa.”
“Well, if you prefer to put it that way, yeah…”
“Hmph.”
“Lord Ieyasu said that you requested for a second chance.”
“...I did.”
His quiet admission took him back to the time when he committed the greatest mistake of his life. With his subsequent decision to redeem whatever he could of himself, he had received permission from Tokugawa Ieyasu to stay on the outskirts of Mikawa and live in a house an average resident would live in. Every morning, Yasumasa would wake up before sunrise and farm some land near his dwelling. Afternoons meant honing his skills in swordsmanship, a craft he was proud of and sought to even improve on. When the sky darkened, he would light a lantern in the silent company of books of strategy and philosophy. He spent his days in simplicity, struggling but striving to deserve his second chance at living.
Those patterned days ended on a certain afternoon. The morning started out with farming as usual, and with the thought that his crops would soon produce yield, he took his lunch in a nearby teahouse alone. As Yasumasa was making his way back to his house, he was greeted by the sight of a man dressed in dignified finery, looking so out of place as he stood near the humble abode’s entrance.
“Milord Ieyasu!” Yasumasa strode over to him and bowed in respect.
A usual smile graced upon Ieyasu’s lips. “I was beginning to think you’d already died.”
“I have not, Milord.”
“Good. Show me around.”
Although still overcome with surprise, Yasumasa gave his lord a warm welcome to the residence. He had to admit, it was strange to be so casually strolling around with him again. It reminded Yasumasa of those times in the past when he still served as Ieyasu's page, when circumstances were complicated but also simpler.
“Never thought you’d be one to take care of flowers,” Ieyasu commented and gestured over the colorful bunch of chrysanthemums around the compact space of the yard.
“They were already there when I arrived. Might as well.” Yasumasa stopped in front of the flowers as Ieyasu did and waited for his lord to reveal the purpose of his sudden visit.
“Yasumasa,” Ieyasu began after a few moments, the tone of his voice grave and serious, “another war is upon Mikawa’s horizons. I want you to return to the castle.”
At Ieyasu's words, Yasumasa felt suddenly aware of the empty weight of the swords detached from his hips. He clenched his fists in frustration with himself. “But Milord, I don't deserve it… I have yet to prove myself worthy.”
“You can, in the battlefield,” Ieyasu turned to him with an expression bare of any mockery, “I will lead the Tokugawa to victory, one you will see with your very own eyes should you decide to fight under my banners again.”
Yasumasa witnessed the determination that burned brightly in Ieyasu’s eyes and believed in the greatness his lord was meant to accomplish—that they were meant to accomplish as lord and retainer. He had wished for death during the crucial moment of his failure, but it was Ieyasu who cut the ropes that bound him, freeing him not only of his crimes but also of his weaknesses. Reverent, Yasumasa bowed his head to the ground and swore that his faith would never falter again. “On my life, Milord.”
He took the leap and returned to Hamamatsu as a retainer—a Divine General. From the second Yasumasa stepped on the castle grounds, the rift his mistake cost him had been palpable. But somehow, the strained relationship he shared with the other retainers was nothing new. They trusted him so little, yet he could place no fault in them. He was similar to the person Ieyasu used to be: arrogant, independent to a fault, and able to put trust in no one. Day by day, Yasumasa witnessed how what he once considered as his lord’s weakness had become the strength that bound the clan together tighter than ever. His mind couldn't help but race with the possibility of the person he could become. That was when he saw her again.
Now, she was right in front of him, a small chuckle bubbling from her lips.
“Ah, no, we are not husband and wife,” she corrected the shopkeeper who Yasumasa had failed to notice the approach of earlier.
“Is that so? Pardon me, then,” the shopkeeper turned to him, “Anything else I may get for you, young man?”
“No, thank you.”
The shopkeeper nodded with a smile of recognition and left.
Yasumasa resumed eating and dared to peek at the woman who sat across him. As if she felt his gaze, she looked back at him with a quizzical expression, but it caught Yasumasa so off guard that he had to look away. During the first few days of his return to Hamamatsu, the two of them barely had a chance to speak with each other. Truth to be told, Yasumasa went out of his way to avoid her. It was futile; living in the same castle and working for the same man made their encounters inevitable. The first few times were simple greetings, he would respond with a nod and go on his way. Soon, there were words exchanged as they touched on safe discussion topics, which consisted of only a few possible matters. When they found themselves on the verge of the dangerous, he would often find excuses to leave or to make her leave, but she was stubborn, filling in the voids in their conversations with her kindness and enthusiasm.
“Look, Lord Yasumasa! There are red spider lilies growing around there!” She motioned towards the distant woods where clusters of the flowers grew, barely visible in the darkness.
He scoffed. “How unsightly.”
“They say that red spider lilies grow on paths where people part, did you know that?”
“Or there could be graves somewhere near the area and they were planted there to ward off pests.”
“Maybe.”
The two of them finished the last of their meal at around the same time. She turned his way to ask him of his thoughts about it, but it was then that Yasumasa spotted the short trail of powder on her cheek, no doubt from the daifuku. With a click of his tongue, “You eat like a child,” he chided in mild displeasure and tossed a handkerchief into her direction.
The suddenness of his actions made her struggle to catch the item, but she did so successfully. “Is this clean?”
“Do you think I would carry around something filthy?”
“I suppose not.”
“You’re so bothersome.”
The way back to the castle was quiet, save for their footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves. Yasumasa's thoughts remained on her, the woman beside him who had become a prominent figure in his mind for a long, long time. He had been indifferent towards her back when she still dressed as a man to conceal her identity, but once all of her secrets were revealed, he became nothing but resentful. In the course of her earlier days as a woman in the castle, Yasumasa had been reprimanding some retainers when he saw her pass by and chat with the other generals.
“You don’t care for Yasumasa, do you.” Tadakatsu's words had been more of a statement rather than a query. The mention of his name caught Yasumasa’s attention; he had no choice but to listen.
Her eyes widened, taken aback by the assumption. “Huh?! I… It’s not that I don’t like him, not at all…”
“You don’t have to pretend. It’s written all over your face,” Tadakatsu continued, voicing out Yasumasa’s own thoughts.
To add to the vitriol thrown at him in secret, “I don’t like him either,” Toramatsu declared without hesitation.
Yasumasa had gathered that they didn’t know he was within hearing distance, yet back then, he couldn't care less what they thought of him. But as he regarded her, a mere step or two away from him as she strolled along the pathway in a manner that he would describe as almost happily, he found the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth—although he knew that she has most likely forgotten about it already. The light of the moon seemed to bounce with her hair whenever she moved. He clenched his fists at the memory of its silkiness between his fingers.
The reality of it all sunk in: they had slept together, and they both wanted it. Questions echoed like gongs in his mind. For someone who once could not deny outrightly that she did not care for him, she treated him with kindness, like she held no grudges for every mistake he has committed and actually cared. Something in her drew him in, even long ago despite his hostility towards her and especially now that his views in life were linked with a new resolve. It was the first time he felt that way for anyone. The raw attraction unnerved him. The slight flush of her cheeks when they happened to be in each other's company gave him thoughts he immediately crushed. He could not dare think of something when there was none. The next thing he knew, the beginnings of subtle, innocent touches and occasional close proximity ended with the two of them laying on the bedding he once spent lonely nights on.
“I will defile you. Are you sure this is what you want?” he had asked her then, giving her a final chance for a way out should she want it. He knew not what to do with himself. He had desired her in secret for so long, and though the frustration would eat him alive, he was prepared to accept her decision and understand the reason for her refusal. In truth, he expected her to flee and say that all of it had been a mistake, but like a moth drawn to a flame, she touched his cheek ever so gently and nodded, her answer clear with the fervent kiss she bestowed upon his lips.
Yasumasa made his stop by a tree a few minutes or so away from the castle. Once she realized he was not beside her anymore, her steps faltered one by one until she ceased moving as well. He kept his demeanor in check before speaking, “Enter the gates first. I’ll go in a short while.”
She turned to face him slowly. “Why?”
“This can never happen again. Keep your mouth shut and no one will know.”
“You regret it?” she snapped, each word laced with self-deprecation and disbelief, “You seriously regret it?”
He sneered. “What do you think? Of course, I do.”
Her knuckles tightened over the knot of the cloth that contained the package of white rice dumplings she insisted on bringing back for everyone. “Well, I don’t.” Upset, she spun around swiftly and began to storm inside the castle grounds without him, just the way he wanted to.
As she disappeared from his sight, a strong gust of wind blew, making a few leaves fall weightlessly to the earth.
“Damn it!” Yasumasa cursed, overcome with anger directed at no one but himself. He was nothing but a liar. What would people say about her associating herself with the likes of him, someone who had the nerve to betray the clan and come back? He should know better. She was too good for him—too good to him. It was far from anything he deserved. He needed to do everything he could to stop her from coming too close to him and to stop him from ruining her even more.
But perhaps, it was too late.
Beneath the glow of the waning moon, a man and a woman sat in front of each other.
Chrysanthemums bloomed all over the backyard of a small home in the outskirts of Mikawa. Seasons had gone by and changes, both subtle and tangible, happened as they drifted from one to another. Traces of warm colors in the leaves developed fully into vivid shades of red, some deep oranges, while others shone golden. Though in the night, all of them were the same, dark as their shadows.
“They make it very lively even though no one really lives here, don’t they? Especially during twilight,” the woman commented at the hidden medley of autumn hues and took a slow, dainty sip of her sake. “So, why did you call me here? It’s not like our usual meetings, from what I gather.” She placed the half-empty cup down on the table with a faint thud and raised her gaze to meet the jade green eyes of her companion, Yasumasa.
He had been wrong when he said that what happened on their first night together could never happen again. It happened more times than she could count, not only in his residence but also in other places. It was risky, thrilling, altogether rewarding. When she happened to pass by those areas, memories of their times together would take her head in the clouds, and with burning cheeks, she would look away with a secret smile. They had visited his old dwelling far too often that soon enough, she became familiar with its every nook and cranny, including where he kept his precious tea set, the one which has been passed down to the heirs of the Sakakibara clan for many generations. If the two of them were to be around during afternoons, she would expect to find Yasumasa hanging around the chrysanthemums in the garden he kept—those flowers he claimed he wasn’t taking care of but were all blooming so beautifully. Contrary to what he insisted, she recognized the special care he gave them, reminiscent of how one would treat a bonsai, only a single wrong move with the latter could be fixed through the passage of time, but the former would not be as resilient, having a single chance to bloom during its season.
Most of all, she knew him, Yasumasa. Once, she had woken up in the middle of the night with his side of the bedding warm but empty. She got up and slid the doors open to find him seated on the floor, silent as the still night air. The same thing kept him up at night time and again; Yasumasa recognized the value of trust at this point in his life, although the idea was still foreign to his comprehension. He would never admit it, but she knew he would like to be able to build that trust with his comrades, akin to the way his lord came to the light. As he stared into the dark space, struggling still to reconcile who he was and who he wanted to be, she believed he would get there one day, he was stubborn that way.
“No one holds a grudge against you, you know? Not even Lord Ieyasu. Lord Tadakatsu is worried. I’m sure he misses his friend.” She leaned against a pillar and pulled the fabric of her robes tighter against her body to protect herself from the chill. “Forgive yourself, Yasumasa. We have.”
He was so quiet that she thought he did not hear a word she uttered, but then he stood up and met her eyes, his stare determined and passionate. “Even you?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I haven’t.” She walked closer and reached to embrace Yasumasa by the waist. In an instant, she was warmed, the steady beating of his heart a soothing sound. She spoke the truth; she did not hate him. In fact, she already had an inkling even at that time that it had grown to be quite the opposite. Every single encounter with him strengthened the attachment she felt, almost like a bond. There had been times when she made sure she had at least a swipe of rouge on her lips whenever there was a chance they would pass by each other, and she felt like she tried too hard. Yasumasa had already witnessed her at her best and worst, at her most pleasured and most vulnerable. It all sounded a bit backwards in her head, she didn’t know whether to smile or frown at the idea.
They were the castle’s open secret. Almost everyone suspected it, yet no one dared to ask either of them for confirmation or denial. It seemed that the idea of them together was an odd one. A mismatched pair of chopsticks, that was what they looked like. Scandalous curiosities were disregarded in order to avoid evoking Yasumasa’s ire. She supposed it was something she should be grateful for—if someone did dare to ask, she would not know how to answer. Long ago, he considered her his enemy. Were they friends? Not quite. She wouldn’t do what she does with him with a mere friend, of that she was sure. They were not explicitly lovers either. Still, she found no desire to lay with another man, and she suspected that he was not sleeping with another, with majority of his time spent on training and military campaigns along with the frequency of their activities when he wasn’t occupied with either of the two. It wasn’t that they were only good enough to be intimate companions and not… more. No, it was rooted on something deeper. No matter how strongly she felt for him, whatever was between them was fragile, as it was impermanent. Regardless, she cared for him deeply, knew him far enough to trust him in spite of the mistakes he made in the past. As much as she tried to keep those thoughts at the back of her mind, it bothered her time and again, but she decided that she would cross the bridge when she gets there.
However, as she sat in front of Yasumasa in the place full of their memories, she knew that the moment to cross the bridge has come.
“Lord Ieyasu has granted me the domain in Tatebayashi,” Yasumasa stated with pride. Their most difficult battle had resulted in the Tokugawa’s greatest victory. A new beginning was in the entire land’s horizons, the prospect of peace closer than ever. She couldn’t be prouder of everyone in the clan.
“Sakakibara Yasumasa, Lord of Tatebayashi,” his name and new title rolled off her tongue, and she smiled. “Congratulations.” He had come so far. She was happy for him.
He drank his sake in response, eyes trained on her all the while, holding her in place.
“Is there something else you wish to tell me, Yasumasa?”
“Why? Do you have something you wish to tell me?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she broached the subject and fiddled with the hem of her kimono. “Soon, I won’t be under Lord Ieyasu’s employ any longer.”
He stilled as he took in the implication of her words, but quickly recovered as he moved to set the empty cup down on the table. “And? Where are you going now?”
“For now, the plan is to go back home to Kyoto.” As a young girl, she had a lot of dreams, one of which was to take over the restaurant as her late father did. Many years had passed since then and circumstances changed. The kind of future she envisioned as a young girl has shifted into something else now that she was a woman—one who has met someone.
If he were to ask her to come with him, she would say yes... yet she knew he would not. It has always been that way—close enough to cross the boundaries they set in silence but never doing so. He said nothing. She expected it, but no matter how much she knew that she would never receive those few specific words, a part of her still longed to hear them. Her little ray of hope dimmed, and she blinked a few times in an attempt to quell her emotions. She wondered where it went wrong or if it had been wrong from the very first night they spent together. Whatever the answer was, she found that she still had no regrets in terms of the intimacy they shared. Alone in her innermost thoughts, she gave him a bittersweet smile.
“One last time?” Her proposition had been a whisper, but in a few seconds, the low table, pair of cups, and empty bottles of sake had been set aside. Her hand clutched his as she led him inside the house all the way to his chambers, where she pulled him in for a kiss once the doors slid close.
Every time she would remember that instance when Yasumasa mocked that she possessed the body that would drive no man to lust, she wanted to burst into laughter. It pleased her to see him this way, almost pliant and very responsive to her kisses and touches, as if his hatred of women never existed, or at the very least, was shelved away in particular moments where she was involved.
“How long has it been, Yasumasa? Years?” she whispered right next to his ear, her fingertips tracing a line from his jaw to his neck and further down to the inside of his collar, “Aren’t you a hypocrite? Still going to pretend you never wanted this, hm?”
He hissed and kept her lips occupied from talking by taking them with his own. His palm felt warm against her lower back as he pulled her even closer. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget everything. She was never the kitchen wench, just a woman who wanted him; and he was never a Divine General, just a man who desired her. Lost in his every touch, she has never felt so free, her body pinned down the bedding with his own, perfectly fitting together. In their final hours, she eagerly accepted all that he had to give her, again and again. She cried for him, not the inevitable separation that would prove change was constant once they go out of the doors of that little house, the one she unconsciously considered home on certain days of her life.
The journey back to the castle was slow and steady, contrary to the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that ran through her mind and heart. Above all, the sights she took in evoked a strange sense of nostalgia. Her vacant eyes followed the movements of the autumn leaves as they clung to the tree branches, and even without the disturbance of the wind, fell to the earth constantly. Yasumasa’s horse would let out an occasional whinny, and she would pat its back in response, knowing that it would be their final trip together. Soon enough, they neared their destination, the end of their journey. The castle, tall and glinting in the light of dawn, stood in their field of vision from the woods. Yasumasa pulled in the reins, and they came to a halt. Minutes passed, but both of them stayed quiet and unmoving.
“After we cross the gates, I will never speak to you again.” She felt proud of herself for breaking the silence with a voice filled with conviction. It gave her enough courage to adjust her seat so she could face him. The moment she did, her lips drew into a fond smile. She reached for the maple leaf that had gone stuck in his copper locks and pulled it away. It crumbled at the most gentle of her touches, fluttering in uneven fragments towards the ground. “I suppose this is goodbye, then.”
“...So, it is.”
“Have a good life, Lord Yasumasa. Be happy.”
His lips parted and closed, as though he wanted to say something but thought otherwise. It took a few more moments of silence before he finally replied, “You, too. Be happy.”
As she moved to alight, his arms tightened around her waist so slightly that she almost missed it. In the split second her eyes locked with his, the two of them found their way together in a desperate kiss that left her emotional and breathless. Seconds spent on pulling away solely to breathe were followed with another bittersweet meeting of their lips, over and over, as if the two of them were reluctant to part and were pouring all the words left unsaid with each caress. Her eyes began to water, but before tears could fall, she gathered enough courage and drew herself away from him. She alighted from the saddle and brushed off the invisible dirt from her kimono. Fallen leaves crumbled underneath her sandals, but without ever once looking back, she marched inside the castle grounds on her own.
With every step, a piece of her fell apart as she relinquished everything she had with him.
Cruel, the hands of fate were cruel. It seemed that all they had gone through had not been enough, that even the days of their departure were one and the same. She had packed all of the little things she acquired over the years, each item tied with a memory she would hold dear for the rest of her life. A day before she was set to leave, she and Tadatsugu, whose wisdom she considered greater than anyone, looked after the plants on the castle grounds like they would on a regular day. In the midst of doing so, he thanked her for her service and the great cuisine she introduced the whole clan to. She went to town with her dear friends, Toramatsu and Tadakatsu, with whom she shared countless moments of laughter and tears over the years, and who respected her silent decision to keep all of the things she wanted under wraps to herself. Finally, she visited Ieyasu before sunset to express all the gratitude she had for him. In the Shogun’s grand library, a copy of her recipe book was placed neatly in one of the shelves at nightfall. True to her word, she did not seek Yasumasa again, and neither did he.
She bowed in greeting to the few people who would accompany her on the journey back to Kyoto and proceeded to wave everyone goodbye, ready to go home. She passed by Yasumasa and his men preparing to leave. From her peripheral vision, she noticed him pause in his stacking of his luggage to train his eyes on her every movement. The sight of him awakened her thoughts of the impossibility that it could have been the two of them who would be off to Tatebayashi that day. The roads they would take were in the opposite directions of each other, that was the way their circumstances were always meant to be.
An unexpected gift waited for her in the palanquin. With a smile, she picked up the arrangement of bright red chrysanthemums and boarded inside. After the curtains were drawn and they departed, the mask she wore for so long finally shattered. She clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent any sound from escaping the four corners of the small space as tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped on the scarlet flowers on her lap. She wept at the knowledge that the moment he would open his food compartment in the middle of his journey, he would find a package of chestnut manju wrapped intricately with the pristine white handkerchief he once owned, each piece made with her best wishes for his life and eternal happiness.
In a little house on the outskirts of Mikawa, a garden once filled with the most colorful flowers turned bleak as they wilted through the passage of many seasons. In time, mysterious red spider lilies sprung in their place in such large numbers, it prompted the villagers to forlornly believe that it was either a place where someone had passed away, or where lovers had parted, never to meet again.
Beyond grateful to @photoproses reading through my initial draft and brainstorming with me!
Happy Mid-Autumn Festival (and Friday the 13th)! 🎑
Thank you for reading this story! 🍁
春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō [AO3]
lit. spring, summer, autumn, winter
春 || Heartstrings (Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC)
夏 || Sunkissed (Honda Tadakatsu/MC)
秋 || Crossroads (Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC)
| 秋 | Destiny [Crossroads Alternate Ending]
冬 || ???
Ichigo Daifuku's Masterlist
Sunkissed
SLBP Fanfiction [Read on AO3]
Honda Tadakatsu/MC
The story of The Warrior Who Surpassed Death Itself meeting his match.
Mature | Implied Sexual Content; Mild S&M (Very Lowkey)
Word Count: ~7.7k
Part 2 of 春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō
木漏れ日 | Komorebi
The sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees.
The melody of the cuckoo’s song marked the beginning of the new season.
Light hues of spring blossoms faded into earthy shades of green all over the country. Day by day, the temperature rose higher, and together with it was the air that carried the season’s humidity. The very same afternoon breeze caressed her face as she emerged from the castle, finished with her duties. She tied her hair in a ribbon, which offered her a small reprieve after being cooped up indoors since morning. At the sigh of relief she let out, a frown soon followed, the hot breath she released tickling the tip of her nose.
During that time of the day, the garden was the best place to rest. It was an open area surrounded by various trees and flowers. However, unlike most days when she would have a peaceful time in the garden by herself, she instead arrived to see samurai gathered all over the space. She paused to stand by a tree in the sidelines, a spectator to whatever activity was about to take place.
Oda Nobunaga, the Lord of the Clan, stood in front of them all, proud and tall. He unfurled his extravagant fan with an elegant flick of his wrist and in seconds, the chatter of men shifted into pindrop silence. He fanned his face, almost in a lazy fashion, while his eyes scanned over the place. “Today, we will have a martial arts tournament,” he declared.
Thrilled murmurs returned as quick as they were silenced a moment before the announcement. Most retainers hurried to grab their wooden practice swords, while some began to place bets on who would emerge as the ultimate victor.
In the distance, a burst of excitement caught her attention. “Oooooohhh! A martial arts tournament?! I’m so ready for this!” a burly man gushed to an elderly retainer.
The elderly retainer did not share the other’s joyous attitude and instead regarded him seriously, “Tadakatsu. You may participate, but please do so with respect to Lord Oda and his retainers.”
“Ah… yes… right. Understood.” He grimaced.
Beside the two, another samurai in golden robes stood, foot tapping on the ground in an impatient rhythm. His petulant complaints found themselves passing through her one ear to the other as her attention was solely focused on the burly man, Tadakatsu. It was not the first time she saw him. She encountered him a couple of times in the last few days while she served tea and snacks during war councils. He sat there, stock-still with a neutral expression on his face while the clan’s retainers proposed the best strategy for the next military campaign. One time, she poured green tea in his cup and felt his gaze on her person. Unable to fight the curiosity that had sparked inside of her, she rose her head and looked at him straight in the eye.
A familiar voice pulled her out of her reverie, “Look at you, undressing him with your eyes.”
“Hello to you, too, Umeko. No, I was not.”
“Whatever you say.”
“What brings you here?” she asked in feigned disinterest, inspecting her nails.
Umeko held up a tray, “I was just serving refreshments.” She went on to balance it with one hand while she used the other to pour a cool drink in the last cup left. “Here.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”
“Oh, really? Then, this isn’t for you.” Umeko leaned closer and covered the side of her mouth with one hand to whisper conspiratorially, “For him. That’s Lord Tadakatsu, by the way. From the Tokugawa Clan.”
“I know that – I mean, I wasn’t asking!” Her eyes widened on the little slip of her tongue. Umeko would never let her get away with that and she knew it.
“So you say.” Umeko giggled. “Best of luck!” She gave her one last playful smile and turned to leave.
“Ugh…” She walked closer to the nearby tree and dusted its trunk and roots before sitting down. She balanced the cup of water on top of her knees and cradled it with her palms. During her exchange with Umeko, the tournament had begun without her awareness. Her index finger tapped on the glass as she took in the show of strength in the usually tranquil garden.
Nobunaga sat on the veranda as he would on a dais while Mitsuhide supervised the matches of the tournament. After a few bouts, Mitsunari expressed refusal to fight the specific person he was pitted against, Hideyoshi. The latter simply laughed, brushed it off, and said that the former should do it as his faithful retainer. A little later, it was a match between Hideyoshi and Inuchiyo, which was both physical and verbal as usual. It entertained not only the two of them but also the audience, who laughed and cheered at the same time while the sparring continued.
As the tournament progressed, she didn’t see him from where she sat. In the end, she found herself sipping the water Umeko had poured for her – or him, rather – little by little. She reminded herself to thank her friend later, once they see each other during dinner. With her cup empty, she stood and went to the kitchen to return it, having no desire to hold on to it until the end of the tournament. After doing so, she fetched water from the well, enough to wash her face with, which she did in order to cool down from the afternoon heat.
The atmosphere crackled with tension and excitement the moment she returned to the garden.
The men had sat down and formed a wide circle where Mitsuhide stood in the middle and spoke loudly, “The final match will be between Honda Tadakatsu and Maeda Toshiie.”
“Don’t embarrass me,” the man in golden robes said.
Tadakatsu laughed. “I won’t, Lord Ieyasu!”
“I’m betting against Puppy!” Hideyoshi teased.
Inuchiyo looked back at him and growled, “Why you!”
“Fighters to your positions!” Mitsuhide announced, his voice uncharacteristically fierce as it boomed over the area.
Tadakatsu and Inuchiyo went to stand on either side of Mitsuhide and faced each other with serious expressions. They bowed and shifted their bodies into attacking positions with their wooden swords. Upon closer observation, it was evident that Tadakatsu’s physique was even larger than that of Inuchiyo, albeit only by a considerable fraction. Whether or not that would be an advantage or disadvantage was yet to be seen, the amount of the bets rising higher than ever.
“Begin!” Mitsuhide signaled for the match to commence and went back to stand in the sidelines.
Inuchiyo attacked first. She had witnessed him fight countless of times since their childhood and until now, it was always that very same hunger to best his opponent that made his every move wild. A berserker, as those he had faced in battle would call him. Still, she merely watched under the same tree, neither cheering nor saying anything, simply an onlooker from afar to the highlight of today’s tournament.
Tadakatsu was quick to block Inuchiyo’s next attack. It was such a strong clash of swords one after another that Hideyoshi pointed out that two of them would break the wood into pieces with their strength and wins from previous matches. Soon enough, both Tadakatsu and Inuchiyo panted from the physical exertion. There was nothing like a good fight. Their skills were in a similar spectrum which made the battle both tough and exhilarating.
“That’s my boy!” Old Man Katsuie cheered as Inuchiyo landed a blow on his opponent’s shoulder. Tadakatsu backed away and Inuchiyo watched him, sword ready as he anticipated his next move. Tadakatsu’s eyes remained fixated to the ground, his breathing erratic as he clutched his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
Then, he smiled.
She watched, entranced, as Tadakatsu moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned fighter. If what he did earlier was called fighting, then she didn’t quite have the name for what he was doing now. The blow he took had fueled Tadakatsu’s will in combat as he charged towards Inuchiyo’s direction with a fierce battle cry. He was relentless, shouting louder with every swing his sword and grunting heavily with every blow he parried. His every move was the epitome of sparring with vitality. It was something worthy of a legend.
She wondered, was it just her or were the surroundings becoming warmer? She glanced at Nobunaga and wished she had one of those fans like the one he had. The rest of the audience didn’t dare blink, not wanting to miss the fight of a lifetime happening right in front of them. She began to see the why tournaments like this one were exciting not just for the participants but also for the crowd.
The two fighters charged towards each other with their practice swords in the air, aiming for the win. The stakes were high. Everybody was silent, holding their breath in anticipation with the knowledge that this would be the final blow. The wooden sword flew to the ground at the force of the superior fighter. At last, Mitsuhide announced, “Point and match! The final bout goes to Honda Tadakatsu!”
The shouts of Tadakatsu’s victory rung throughout Kiyosu. Immediately, Tadakatsu strode towards the direction of his liege lord. “Lord Ieyasu! Lord Ieyasuuu! I, Tadakatsu, have brought victory to the Tokugawa Clan, in your name!”
“Hmph, whatever.” Ieyasu brushed off his retainer and returned inside the castle with a few men in tow. Most of those who participated in the tournament went and congratulated Tadakatsu, while the others led by Old Man Katsuie patted Inuchiyo’s back and praised his stellar performance for finishing second.
The crowd slowly thinned. “You,” Nobunaga beckoned Tadakatsu with a gesture. “Your skill as a warrior is promising, indeed. You are to be rewarded for your victory today… Right there.”
“What?” she couldn’t help but whisper, uncertain if she saw it correctly – Nobunaga pointing towards the direction where she sat – towards her.
“I see. Thank you so much, Lord Nobunaga. I shall make sure to share with the rest of the Tokugawa Clan,” Tadakatsu replied.
Her eyes widened at the implication. She looked around her if there were any gold or pearls that could be classified as reward. There were none. “No, it couldn’t possibly be…?” she asked herself.
But before she could come up with any sort of conclusion, Nobunaga simply told Tadakatsu “See to it,” and left.
Tadakatsu took a deep breath and sighed. He placed the cracked and beaten up wooden sword on the floor of the veranda. He stretched his arms and yawned, exhausted from the tournament, and walked towards the specific tree he was pointed to. He started to strip the upper part of his kimono from his body, the fabric damp with sweat and grime, his mind already wandering to the baths.
“Hey! What are you doing? Pervert!”
Tadakatsu froze at the sound of her voice. She emerged from the thicket of leaves that hung lowly from the lithe branches and faced him with crossed arms. Instead of answering, he stared at her, his lips slightly agape and cheeks reddened with a blush.
She snapped her fingers right in front of his face. “I thought you were going to claim your reward?”
His surprised face turned a darker shade of crimson, if that was even possible. “A-Ah…! Y-Yes!”
“What? Well? Where is it?” she prodded, prepared to defend herself should he say the word ‘you’ .
He tilted his head upwards and pointed to the branches of the tree. Her eyes followed suit in both curiosity and confusion. There, hanging high up in abundance, were peaches that the tree bore for the season. He put his hand down and seemed to get a hold of himself before he turned towards her with a sunny smile, “Want me to get you some?”
“Erm… sure?” Whether he knew of her assumption or not, she found impossible to tell. She could do nothing to suppress the mild embarrassment she felt at the realization. In spite of that, it wasn’t the end of the world. She would get over it soon enough, maybe.
“I’m Tadakatsu, by the way,” he offered, still standing in front of her.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Aren’t you going to give me your name?”
“No.”
Tadakatsu took a deep breath and released it in a chuckle. He began to circle the tree, choosing which of the fruits were ripe enough to pick. “Lord Oda’s men really take these kinds of things seriously, don’t they?! I can’t wait to face Lord Ishida and Lord Maeda again… They were both so strong!”
She stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to another, unsure of why was trying to make any form of conversation. “Oh, yeah. You did Inuchiyo good.”
“Inuchiyo?” He turned his head to her in question.
“Oh... Toshiie.”
“So that’s why they kept calling him Puppy!”
He passed by her side and easily towered over her form. Up close to him once more, she observed that his face was surprisingly kind. It was a stark contrast to the brave warrior who fought the men of Oda a while ago and won. He was not an ordinary person. No doubt, he would be known for his tremendous skill as a samurai, if not already.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tadakatsu spoke out of the blue, his fingers around one of the peaches as he inspected it.
“What am I thinking?”
“How shameful it is for me not to have critical battle scars on my body! I seem to always escape the battlefield without an honorable mark to tell my tale.” He began to pick the peaches from the tree one by one, tall enough to reach higher ones easily. “It’s true. I’m a disgrace of a warrior!”
“What is he saying?” she asked herself. It was the last thing she expected to hear from someone who just stood above all contenders in a martial arts tournament. “No, I don’t think that way at all,” she blurted out, “I was here during the tournament and I saw the way you fought. I think you don’t have critical battle scars on your body because no one has bested you, not because you are incompetent as a samurai.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to her with a handful of peaches, eyes wide and full of an emotion she could not name.
“You’re a weirdo.”
Tadakatsu smiled. “A-Ah… Yes, of course I am! Thank you!”
“What?” She meant to say that he was a weirdo for thinking he was a disgrace and all that. She didn’t know if her message got across her recipient, but he seemed to be pleased. Very much so.
“Since I am a weirdo, it wouldn’t be farfetched for me to ask you for your name again, wouldn’t it?” He thrust his hand out towards her direction, a beautiful, ripe peach in his palm.
With how strange this man was, she couldn’t help but give him a sharp glare. To the least of all her expectations, her response only spurred the blush on his cheeks to grow redder and the light in his eyes to grow brighter. In that moment, the sun spread throughout the place its mighty light and brought a haze as the rays that flitted through the leaves illuminated his form. For all his strange antics, he looked like a divine creature. Yes, definitely far from a disgrace.
Her hand laid on top of his as she accepted his offering. She couldn’t help but laugh.
Their paths only crossed again a few days after their serendipitous meeting by the peach tree. It occurred one morning while she walked along the pathway in the castle grounds, basket in hand, and Tadakatsu happened to pass by the area.
“Good morning,” Tadakatsu greeted, followed by her name. He was pleased to see her so early in the morning and it showed. “What are you doing around today?”
There was a small hint of awkwardness in the air, but there was also a sense of comfort and friendship that grew from their previous encounter. She held up an empty woven basket. “I’m going to pick some mandarin oranges.”
“What for?”
“For a dessert Lord Nobunaga requested.”
“I see…”
“Do you want to join me?”
“You don’t mind?”
“If you don’t mind, too. I can pick some oranges for you. You know, as thanks for the peaches the other day.”
“Then, sure!” Tadakatsu smiled with his eyes. She wondered how he was always bursting with energy, even at that early time of the day. Immediately, he offered her a hand, “Here, let me hold the basket for you.”
The intoxicating perfume of the mandarin trees permeated their senses once they arrived at the area of their plantation. She took the basket from Tadakatsu and set in on the ground, shifting into a crouching positing and dusting her palms to begin the harvest. To her surprise, Tadakatsu bent down beside her and picked some of the small, sweet fruits himself, speeding up the process. Soon, the basket was full and she gave him his share.
“Thank you! I’ll share them with the guys later,” he said, his expression still bright as ever. The tiny oranges filled his large palms. “Thanks again for today!”
She watched his retreating figure, dazed. Her walk to the kitchens was slow and consisted of a recount of the events that happened a few minutes ago; his smile etched in her mind for some reason.
After their early morning encounter, she felt as if she was seeing Tadakatsu more often. The next week was filled with his presence at the most random of moments, carrying her purchases from the greengrocer the moment she passed from the gates, chatting with her as she hung the day’s laundry, watching the koi fish swirl around the pond as she gave them their food. Not that she minded his company, she found that she didn’t, peculiar as he may be. All the same, the whole situation was a bit odd considering that prior to the martial arts tournament, their only interaction had been a meeting of their gazes.
One afternoon, she walked along the veranda and happened to overheard a snippet of a conversation nearby.
The first voice was that of a young man she has never heard of before, “You don’t want to come on too strong…”
“I know, but…” The person who replied was someone she recognized, someone she had grown familiar with in the short time they spent together. She turned to the corner and sure enough, Tadakatsu was there with his friend, Toramatsu. They stood on the grass, seemingly on a break from swordsmanship practice. Their heads turned her way as she appeared and she felt a bit guilty for her accidental eavesdropping, although their conversation didn’t make much sense to her.
Tadakatsu was quick to greet her as he always did, “Hello! What are you doing around today?”
“Good afternoon to you both. I am going to town, that’s all,” she told them.
“Mind if I come with you?”
“You don’t have anything to do?”
“No. Nothing. Right, Toramatsu?”
“...Right.”
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Oh, okay then.”
“Later, Toramatsu!” Tadakatsu patted him on the back.
Toramatsu gave a slight wave of his hand as Tadakatsu walked to her side. “Have fun.”
“Thank you,” she replied and the two of them bid him goodbye.
The route on the way to town consisted mostly of small talk and occasional silence, the most comfortable kind. The sun beamed down from the sky, which she felt on the crown of her head and through the layers of her clothing. Even more, she was aware of how their warmed sleeves brushed together as they walked side by side in the crowd. Women stared and whispered to each other their thoughts and compliments directed towards her companion. She thought about it and realized that she couldn’t blame them.
Just then, she was pulled by the hand, and her fall was broken by Tadakatsu’s hard chest. “Hey, careful now,” he murmured, his tone full of worry.
At the sound of a neigh, she tilted her head to witness a stray horse gallop away followed by an angry young man who presumably was its owner. Her heartbeat accelerated at the close encounter of being rammed by a horse due to her wayward thoughts. The warmth that enveloped her hand and body made her conscious of the fact that their hands were still intertwined and the space between them was close to none. She squeezed his hand and let go.
“Sorry!” she said and walked a few steps to distance herself. She wanted to say something – anything – and ended up blurting out, “Want to stop by that restaurant?”
The weather was the perfect excuse to simply grab refreshments and relax in a place with a shade. She told herself it was a good call. The two of them sat on a table for two. They already had their fair share of time alone together, but in a way, she couldn’t help but feel nervous being with him in such an intimate setting. She sipped her drink and watched him from the corners of her eyes. Tadakatsu looked as comfortable as ever as he took the sights in. She reminded herself that this was the man who shared the fruits of his victory with her, the man who had no qualms in admitting his weird quirks, the man whose smile beamed down on her like the sun in the recent of her days.
This was Tadakatsu, and all at once, it was okay.
“I’m not from Owari, so I can’t really give you a proper tour of the area. I’m sorry,” she told him sincerely.
“No need to apologize,” he responded without hesitation, “Just spending time like this is enough.”
“Have you been to Owari before?” There were so many things she was curious of, so many things she wanted to discover about him.
“Only a few times. Lord Ieyasu is allied with Lord Nobunaga, so we have to drop by from time to time.” He looked around the area before he continued, “But between the two of us, Lord Ieyasu doesn’t like it. He’d rather stay in his room to read books and eat strawberry daifuku, to be honest. I take the brunt of his biting words during trips like this.” He ended his words with a look of dazed pleasure on his face.
“And you love it,” she pointed out casually, “Still as strange as ever, I see.”
“Yes… I – Thank you…!” At his words, Tadakatsu’s facial morphed into something more serious. “Oh no,” he whispered to himself and grabbed his drink only to down it in one go. He set the cup back down the table with a small thud, “There.”
“What was that all about?”
“Toramatsu said I shouldn’t come on too strong.”
“Okay…?”
“Well then, where were we? Oh, yeah! You said you weren’t from Owari?”
“Yes, I was born and raised in Kyoto,” she humored his question, a little amused, a little more curious about the way everything went with him.
“Do you miss home?” he asked.
“I do,” she admitted in a bittersweet moment. “I make sure to write to my family frequently. What about you? Do you… miss home?”
“Well, most of the samurai in the clan are with us when we visit here, so not much.” He laughed. “Although sometimes, I miss the food in Mikawa.”
Ah, that she could completely understand. There was something about food that made home truly home. It was the aroma one would recognize even after such a long time of being parted with, the taste that would bring back dear memories of one’s childhood. There was no better person to understand him in that sentiment but her, who has witnessed and experienced the happiness that only the food in a place called home could bring. She smiled.
The rest of their day was filled with light conversation, uninhibited laughter, and sightseeing. It was something new for the both of them. Tadakatsu explored the roads their clan passed fleetingly. Meanwhile, she saw the streets she often passed through when out on errands in a new, memorable way. It was a day well-spent for the both of them; enjoyable in the best and most unexpected ways.
Somehow, his words reverberated in her mind as she laid on her bedding that night. The following morning, she set out to find someone who could help her in the task she set out for herself. She had no clue where to find him and settled on wandering around the castle’s corridors in hopes of seeing him. Luckily, she did.
“Lord Tadatsugu…?” The retainer came out of one of the rooms and she approached him hesitantly, unsure of how he would react to her presence.
Tadatsugu smiled. The two of them had been introduced in passing by a certain someone who had shared a few anecdotes of her. “If it isn’t Miss! How may I help you?”
“Good morning,” she greeted, relieved that he remembered her at least. “Lord Tadatsugu, if it’s not too much, may I ask you about something?”
It took her a couple of days to gather everything necessary for her task. There was sneaking around involved, knowing that anytime Tadakatsu might appear and discover what she has been up to. She couldn’t have that. When all was set and done, she felt nervous excitement and set out to find him.
There he was, Tadakatsu, in the garden, sparring with a dummy.
“Oh, great! You’re here. I’ve been looking for you,” she said in greeting.
He set his practice sword aside upon her arrival. “You’re looking for me? I didn’t expect that.”
“Well, I am. Let’s go.” She grabbed a confused Tadakatsu by the sleeve and pulled him to the direction of the kitchen. She gestured to one of the seats, “Sit down.”
Tadakatsu was pliant to her wishes, immediately doing as she said so. She went to the corner of the room, grabbed a plate, and set it down in front of him.
“No way! Ooanmaki?” he exclaimed, surprised to see a dish from Mikawa on the table. “When and where did you learn how to make this?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Mind if I dig in?”
“Be my guest.”
Nerve-wracking, that was how it felt the moment Tadakatsu bit into the rolled piece of pancake. “I didn’t know which filling you’d prefer, so I thought I’d stick with the basic one, anko.” She wanted to see his reaction as he ate the ooanmaki, but what if he didn’t like it? Or if she didn’t get the recipe right? Even with Lord Tadatsugu’s assistance, she suddenly felt uncertain at that moment. “Well, how does it taste?”
“Delicious, of course. I’m convinced anything from you is delicious. And this? It’s like a woman of Mikawa made it.”
There was an odd feeling in her chest at the sound of his voice when he said those words.
“Hm? Your cheeks are flushed. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. The weather’s just very warm.”
Her heart, too, felt warm.
Somehow, the two of them two fell into a routine. After regular war councils, Tadakatsu would disappear to find her, which did not go unnoticed by certain people.
“Where is that pervert going off to?” Ieyasu asked out loud, referring to Tadakatsu slipping out of the grand sliding doors of the Main Hall. On a regular day, Tadakatsu would stick around longer for a chance to hear a few choice hostile words and would even seek them out from him actively. This was strange behavior for someone like him.
Yasumasa, who sat beside Ieyasu, frowned. “Lately, he has been disappearing like that.”
“I believe he is courting someone, Lord Ieyasu,” Toramatsu stated.
“It’s true, Milord.” Tadatsugu smiled in agreement. “I have seen it with my own eyes!”
Ieyasu smiled that poison smile of his. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Meanwhile, most of her spare time would be spent by the peach tree. If Tadakatsu wasn’t there yet, she would read a book. A few times, she opted for embroidery, if not naps. Even if she was preoccupied, one thing was for sure, if he wasn’t there yet, then he would be soon enough after she arrived. Always.
Yet, dark clouds loomed over the sky and replaced the warm rays of the sunshine.
It rained during the summer.
The summer season was strange; the rainfall came late that year. The sky had been grey when she and Tadakatsu left the castle. It was something spontaneous. Tadakatsu insisted that they should go to town on that day and the next thing they knew, they were under the awning of the town’s temple, taking shelter from the downpour. Around them, colored strips of paper hung from the bamboo trees. As they swayed with the wind, the inked wishes began to fade and streak down with the raindrops to the ground.
That reminded her of the upcoming festival. “It’s Tanabata tomorrow. Will you go?” She looked over the profile of his face and tried to find it in herself to dare add the two words, ‘with me’. She didn’t have the chance to.
“We’re going back to Mikawa tomorrow,” Tadakatsu replied, apologetic.
Everything was too good to be true. She knew it. Last night, she saw that some retainers’ luggage were already being packed, but she never would have guessed that they were for the men of Mikawa, one of them Tadakatsu’s. Despite all the time they spent together, it was all temporary, something two strangers could never keep up for a long time. She should have kept her distance from the beginning instead of falling into a false sense of security with whatever was going on between them – instead of falling for him.
The sound of raindrops hitting the eaves coupled with the wind chimes hanging from the temple flowed through her ears. She had no response for him. Partings could be the best or worst moment between people. She couldn’t tell which it would be in their case. She didn’t even know if he felt the same way. She wondered if everything she had with him had been a mistake, but how was it that a mistake made her feel so happy?
He turned his head to meet her gaze, “I promise you, I will – ”
“No. Don’t.” She looked away, unable to take it any longer. “Don’t promise me anything. We’re different, Lord Tadakatsu.”
The both of them fell quiet.
With the sky’s blessing, the hydrangeas finished dyeing its petals into beautiful blues with hints of pink and purple all around, a beauty immortalized in her mind. It was time to say goodbye. Her eyes stung with the realization that their time was over, that it was time to wake up from her summertime dream. It had been a good one.
On the outside, she fixed a self-deprecating smile but her insides overflowed with the need to get away. “I’ll get us both umbrellas, so please stay here.”
Without waiting for an answer, she ran in the rain.
The hurt on her face pained Tadakatsu in a way that he never thought pain could possibly feel; displeasurable. He hated that he was the cause of her loneliness, he only wanted to see her happy always. In a decisive moment, his hurried footsteps followed her like lightning. Warm and welcoming arms circled her slightly shaking body. Thunder clapped but there was only his voice. “No. That won’t work on me. Don’t do this, please,” he begged, tightening his embrace. Strange as he may be, Tadakatsu was not a clueless one in terms of the matters of the heart. “If you really don’t want me to promise anything, then I won’t. I’ll just do it.”
She turned to face him. Her palms rested on his chest and she wondered if he realized she was crying, or if he would mistake it for something else. The look in his earnest eyes told her that he knew, and that he meant everything he just said. His steadfast heart beating under her fingers told her that he felt the same way. She gazed at him so closely that afternoon, when it were not the rays of the sun that came down on his face but rather the haze of the fog and the raindrops from the skies that wept for their parting.
“May I kiss you…?” he asked, eyes filled with longing.
The fabric of their clothes clung to their skin with each passing second, but the two of them couldn’t care less. Her arms went around his neck as she returned his warm embrace. She stood on her tiptoes and met his awaiting lips in response to his question. He hugged her by the waist closer until she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet, their faces on the same level as their lips reveled in their first meeting.
In that very moment, it was as if she was one of the wishes hanging from the bamboo trees all around them. But there was one tiny difference that separated her from them all.
She had already come true.
The tinkle of their laughter, so much like the wind chimes on a certain summer day, marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.
Hamamatsu was in high spirits. The food served on their tables was nothing short of exquisite and lavish, each cup filled with sake to the brim. Ieyasu, the Lord of Mikawa, watched his retainer from his seat during the celebratory feast. “Who would have thought that the pervert would be the first to get married?”
Yasumasa took a sip of his sake before he commented, “I have to agree with you there, Milord.” He set his cup down on the table and looked at the couple as well, not quite putting two and two together.
Tadatsugu, who was one of the happiest people that day, crinkled his eyes and laughed. “Even the matchmakers said that their match was made in heaven. Congratulations once again to the both of you!”
It was true. Their wedding was set on a day declared auspicious by the matchmakers, who fussed about their names, birthdays, and whatnot, and concluded that the two of them were, indeed, perfect for each other.
Not that they needed the matchmakers’ reassurance to know so.
“Lord Tadatsugu… Thank you so much.” She looked at the elder retainer with unshed tears in her eyes and remembered that day she asked for his assistance. It was one of the best decisions she has ever made, one of the things that led them to the happiest days of their lives.
“More like, in hell.” Ieyasu replied and took a bite of the strawberry daifuku served especially for him.
Tadakatsu chimed in, “As long as we are a match, then either is fine.” Although he looked handsome in his ceremonial robes, to her, he was even more handsome because of that sunny smile of his that was so dear to her.
“His tendencies have toned down as of late,” Toramatsu observed, the contents of his cup yet to be touched, opting for other dishes instead.
Ieyasu only responded with a slight, “Hmph,” already busy with his favorite dessert.
The former’s response did nothing to dampen Tadatsugu’s mood, looking like a proud grandfather who had just married off one of his grandsons. “Well, it’s all thanks to the Miss, isn’t it?”
Tadakatsu laughed. “That’s right. No one knows me better than my wife.”
“I have to agree with that,” she said, her loving gaze meeting her husband’s.
Yasumasa frowned slightly, still confused as ever. “How did he even manage to ask her to marry him?”
“We’ll keep that our little secret, won’t we, my husband?” she answered in jest. Yasumasa’s question brought back pleasant memories of the recent past, of the times that led her to this moment.
After their passionate confession and parting, it took three months before the Tokugawa came back to Owari. She sat under a peach tree, the very same one where they met each other officially, to read a book. She flipped it open to one of her most favorite tales, Tanabata. Before she even had the chance to begin, large palms obstructed her field of vision. “I knew I’d find you here. Guess who.”
A smile lit up her face. She would never forget that voice, nor that scent, nor the feel of those hands on her skin. “Hey! What are you doing? Pervert!”
He leaned closer. “Only for you, Milady,” his breath tickled her ear as he spoke. He uncovered her eyes and within seconds, she turned around and flung her arms around him.
“I didn’t know you were coming today,” she murmured, her words muffled by his chest.
“It’s not a surprise if I tell you, you know?” He ran his hand up and down the back of her hair. “You didn’t respond to my letters. Every second of the trip from Mikawa to Owari was pure torture to me, did you know? You’re so cruel, making me worry like that.”
She hummed, a hidden smile gracing her lips. “You love that, though.”
“I love everything about you,” he stated easily. “But have you read them?”
“Yes.”
“You know how I feel?”
“Yes.”
“You still feel the same way?”
“Yes.”
“May I kiss you now?”
There was only one response to that question.
It turned out that Tadakatsu was in Owari in preparation for war. The both of them became busy with their respective duties, but they still made time to see each other, their days incomplete if they were not given the chance to be in each other’s presence, even just for a short while. The night before the samurai departed, she asked Tadakatsu to meet her in the garden for the reason that she had something important to say.
She had been pacing back and forth by the time he arrived. He gave her a comforting hug immediately, already knowing that the upcoming war was the reason for her distraught. The moment she calmed down, he let go of her and asked what she wanted to say.
“Hold on,” she asked him. Then, she bent down and picked up a small box which had gone unnoticed by him from the moment of his arrival. She set it on his hands and gestured for him to open it.
“These are…”
“My letters to you, Tadakatsu. I responded every single one you wrote to me.”
He took her hand and led her to the pond, where the koi fish swam without a care in the world. They sat on a nearby bench where a lantern was lit. Tadakatsu unfolded the sheets of parchment one by one, his handsome face calm, and an occasional chuckle at a remark she wrote in passing. When he was finished, he carefully folded them, tucked them back to the box, and turned to her. He took her in his arms for the second time that night and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
War broke out soon afterwards. She sent him off by the gates with a smile, aware of how much of a force he was to be reckoned with, in war and in everything. He wrote to her, still, and this time she wrote to him back with courage, sending her affection through the paper and ink. She knew of their victory, and of the moment their forces would come back to Kiyosu. She awaited him by the gates with the same smile, calm and pleased of his return after a long, long time.
Tadakatsu survived another war with no critical injuries, not a single drop of his blood shed on the battlefield once more. “I told you I’d be back soon.”
“I never doubted it.”
Months and months of back and forth heartfelt letters. Spontaneous rendezvous. Distance that made hearts grow fonder. It was never easy. But to them, it was worth it. It was worth everything.
And then, it was summer again.
In a season when days were long and nights were short, they made the most out of the time and the sweltering heat of their passion. In the privacy of their respective rooms, the two of them had no reason to hide themselves and bundle up their feelings. Their affections were out in the open, laid bare, basking in the glow of the bond and intimacy they shared.
She sat on a desk in the middle of her room, his bright green robes, colors reminiscent of leaves in the garden, draped over her bare skin. Her short stature towered over his kneeled form. Tadakatsu, his lovely sunkissed skin revealed to her in its entirety, beads of sweat dripping down his muscular body. In that moment, she felt as if she were Orihime looking upon her lover, Hikoboshi, from the skies and wanting nothing more than to be with him. Except she was no princess and her lover was no cowherd.
“Look at you, Tadakatsu. Are you not the Lord of the Honda Clan? Why are you on your knees for a mere kitchen wench like me?”
Her words ignited a fire in his blood. Oh, how she knew it. But that night, it was not the trance state of pleasure her ruthlessly blunt words evoked in him that she saw in his eyes. Instead, it was a fierce determination that was nothing like she had ever seen before. He uttered the words she least expected to hear in the least likeliest of the situations.
“I, Honda Heihachiro Tadakatsu, ask for your hand in marriage. Be my Lady Honda, please.”
Tadakatsu bent down in a formal bow and sat straight as he did on that day their eyes first met. “I love you,” he said. He had been the first to express his feelings, never been one to hold back from saying them out loud. It suited him, being outspoken. She loved that about him, among many other qualities of his persona.
“I love you, too,” she replied without any misgivings, already past the stage of bashfulness in terms of her affections. “I… Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”
She should have known from the moment their eyes met during that fateful day when she served him tea how much of a trouble he would be in her life. Her trouble, who she so loved and loved her in return, who she would spend the rest of her life with.
“Yes, it would be my honor.” She stood and walked closer to him, kneeling down and bowing to him in return.
“Come here.” The moment she straightened up, he took her in his arms, strong as sturdiest tree in the land. There was no place she would rather be.
They made nothing but love that night. It was always passionate with the two of them. Since her appearance in his life, no one else came close to stirring the desire that burned within him as it did to her. With him, she discovered not only her preferences, but also the extent of her ardor that she would never would have even thought was even possible. Still, that night was even more special than the previous, maybe even more than the first. Two hearts beat as one in every sense of the word and sunrise loomed over the horizon.
News of their betrothal traveled fast. Some of the retainers from Mikawa had already been introduced to her. It seemed she had nothing to worry about as Tadakatsu had already asked for Ieyasu’s permission for their marriage, who in turn had to discuss it with her liege lord, Nobunaga. She wondered how that went as she prepared the ingredients for dinner, one of the final meals she would cook for the Oda Clan.
Umeko, who had volunteered to help her that night, unexpectedly asked her, “Are you sure of your choice?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” She smiled at her friend, truly happy. “I love him.”
“Oh, I am so happy for you! I knew it! I knew it from the day I saw you undressing him with your eyes!”
The next thing she knew, she was in a palanquin on the way to Kyoto, where Tadakatsu asked her mother and Yahiko formally for her hand in marriage. Afterwards, they were off to Mikawa, including her family. She and Tadakatsu declared their love in front of the most special people in their lives, their destinies intertwined from that day onwards.
As they bid the last of their guests goodbye, Tadakatsu shifted his gaze to her, his fervent wish, his dream personified, his wife. In his lifetime, Tadakatsu longed to meet an opponent who would crush him thoroughly. He met his match in the form of the goddess who stood beside him, whose existence never failed to be the fresh air in the turbulent world they lived in. He reached out and held her hand. She held tighter, over the clouds at the reality that they are finally wed; the Lord and Lady of the Honda Clan.
It was nothing but pure bliss the morning after their big day. They woke up in each others arms as husband and wife for the very first time. Beyond the sliding doors of their chambers was a garden where hydrangeas bloomed and with them, the melody of the cuckoo’s song marked the solstice of forever of what once was thought as a fleeting memory of a summer love.
As usual, this work was beta read by @photoproses! I like to think that there is more to Tadakatsu than the comical masochism often depicted in the game. 🐻
🎐☀️ This has been the summer chapter of my Four Seasons series. Thanks for reading! 🎋🌦️
春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō [AO3]
lit. spring, summer, autumn, winter
春 || Heartstrings (Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC)
夏 || Sunkissed (Honda Tadakatsu/MC)
秋 || Crossroads (Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC)
| 秋 | Destiny [Crossroads Alternate Ending]
冬 || ???
Ichigo Daifuku's Masterlist
Heartstrings
SLBP Fanfiction [Read on AO3]
Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC
A retelling of a classic East Asian legend starring the Archer of Tokai.
Mature | Referenced Abuse and Implied Sexual Content
Part of this story was set in the Another Story Event Series (When Fate Brought Me To You & Blossoms of Love, Blooms of Strife)
Word Count: ~5.4k
Part 1 of 春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō
運命の赤い糸 | Red String of Fate
An invisible red thread that connects two people who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance.
Days in Sunpu were mundane for Matsudaira Motoyasu.
In an annex connected by a corridor to the main house, he spent his days in silence. A scroll inked in neat, calculated brushstrokes sealed his routine life in place; every move he made prompted by the Muromachi Shogun and sworn protector of Suruga, Imagawa Yoshimoto.
Motoyasu’s body had gotten used to waking up between six-thirty and eight-thirty in the morning. He would change out of his bedclothes into proper attire, fold his bedding, and wait for breakfast. Although long gone cold upon arrival, he ate his meals quietly. With each dish chosen by Lord Yoshimoto, Motoyasu made sure to finish them all within the allotted schedule. He was allowed to visit the toilet during certain times of the day. He would do so, and in the span of proper minutes, finish his business and return to his room. Most of his hours were spent on comprehending the text he was instructed to read, his posture always perfect—back straight and heels tucked underneath. At times, Lord Yoshimoto would drop by his room in the middle of the day to check on his progress. Motoyasu was used to it. Regardless of the amount of his readings, he finished them all before sunset, just in time for dinner.
Lord Yoshimoto would, on a regular basis, instruct Motoyasu to practice archery in the area close to the annex. Armed with his bow, he shot countless arrows to hone his skills to perfection; one bull's-eye after another. The discovery of Motoyasu’s innate talent for archery seemed to have pleased Lord Yoshimoto. It led to his encouragement of Motoyasu to take up the bow from time and again. After each session, Motoyasu returned to his room and accomplished whatever was next in his daily list.
Although it was rare, Motoyasu was occasionally allowed to go on walks around the city. He would be given a list of errands to run, and then he would return to the residence and report to Lord Yoshimoto.
It was a circumstance similar to that when it happened. That certain afternoon, an even rarer task was given to Motoyasu.
Silver bells tinkled as the annex door revealed the regal purple robes of Lord Yoshimoto. The bittersweet aroma of the outside world slid through the gap as he entered Motoyasu’s space, his footsteps light against the wooden floor. Motoyasu was quick to set the book he had been reading aside to bow and offer his most polite greetings. Lord Yoshimoto smiled and sat down in front of him.
“I have a very special assignment for you, my dear Motoyasu.” Lord Yoshimoto’s expression, as always, was nothing but benevolent as he spoke. “The Imagawa will be welcoming an esteemed guest tonight, a samurai whose alliance would prove to be beneficial for us.”
Motoyasu knew when he was permitted to speak and when he was not. He kept quiet, a smile on his face as he waited for Lord Yoshimoto’s next words.
“I would like to give him a bottle of the finest sake in Sunpu. See to it that you obtain it from any of the places written here.” Lord Yoshimoto pulled a piece of folded parchment from his sleeve and handed it to Motoyasu.
He received the parchment with both of his hands and bowed, “As you wish, Milord Yoshimoto.”
“I trust you will be back on time?”
“Of course, Milord Yoshimoto.”
It was the day of the spring festival. The streets of Sunpu were more crowded than usual, the jovial sound of merrymakers’ laughter all over the place. The vibrant attire of men and women stood out in contrast to the light pink colors that tinted the trees. Children swarmed the stalls to play games in hopes to win a prize while merchants littered the sidelines with a variety of goods such as masks and other trinkets. A wide selection of food was available in the stalls, from seasonal harvests like strawberries to traditional desserts like daifuku. The sweet scent of confectioneries tickled Motoyasu’s nose as as he strolled along the path in his everyday robes, eyes straight ahead and a piece of parchment in his hand. In an unexpected moment, a little boy ran straight towards him. He sidestepped easily, and a cloud of dust seeped through his robes as the child sped past him. He didn’t mind it. No, he didn’t mind it at all.
“Would you like to make a wish to the heavens?” The moment he paused, an old woman approached him, a strip of white paper in her hand outstretched his way. Beyond the streets, torches were lit around the temple where the wishes were to be offered. The blow of horns and ring of bells seemed distant but audible; indications that the performance of sacred rituals were currently underway.
Motoyasu only shook his head in response to the old woman’s question. As the old woman nodded in understanding, he went on his way.
A falconer's bird was never free; it would take flight, only to spin around and return to its master. Motoyasu was at the festival to fulfill the task Lord Yoshimoto gave him, only allowed to be wherever the list told him to go. Even if he was away from the residence, out of Lord Yoshimoto’s sight, Motoyasu’s every move was commanded by the strings suspended above his shoulders, tied firmly around his hands and feet.
He found the festival stall which sold the specific sake Lord Yoshimoto wanted as a present for his guest. The line was long. Motoyasu took his place at the very back. In a matter of seconds, a father and son pair was quick to fall in line after him, and more people arrived to queue. In front of him was a man who reeked the stench of hard liquor. He didn’t mind it. No, he didn’t mind it at all.
Motoyasu waited for his turn. Soon, there was only one more person before he would be able to make his purchase and go back to the residence.
“You’re lucky. This is the last one,” the store owner said as he checked the payment handed to him.
Droplets of saliva fell from the drunken man’s mouth as he guffawed. “It seems the gods have blessed me today, then.”
“Oh, no,” the young boy behind Motoyasu said to his father, “Now we won’t have any souvenir for Old Man Shige.”
“That’s alright, son. We’ll get some at the restaurant before we leave tomorrow.” The father patted the little boy’s back, and the two of them went to a nearby food stall instead.
Their voices faded into the distance as Motoyasu left. There was no use in sticking around when he had a more important task to fulfill. Unlike the father and son, he needed to make his purchase right now. Although his first attempt to acquire a bottle the finest sake in Sunpu was unsuccessful, it was fine. There were still two more places where he could get them. He turned to a corner and unfurled the parchment. Although he knew every word, character, and stroke in it, Motoyasu looked over the list again. He simply cannot afford to make a mistake.
However, his second attempt proved to be as fruitless as the previous. Motoyasu was quick to notice the lack of bottled goods upon his arrival to the next designated place. The line was shorter compared to the first stall. Still, Motoyasu decided to make sure and proceeded to ask the seller about the sake.
“My apologies, young man. You see, since today is the festival, a lot of people wanted to enjoy hanami and yozakura with sake. We sold them out hours ago.” The store owner frowned as if she felt bad for Motoyasu. “How about some dango?” she suggested with a smile and proceeded to hand him a stick. “No need to pay for it, just enjoy the festival.”
Motoyasu glanced at the pink, white, and green dumplings skewered together in the stick, the expression on his face a neutral mask as he shook his head. He was quick to leave after the expression of his refusal. He unfolded the parchment once more in search of the final location he was instructed to visit.
It turned out to be a restaurant on the outskirts of the celebration. Motoyasu was met by a dim establishment; the door seemed to be locked, and although lanterns were lit by the entrance, no one seemed to be inside nor was anyone around the area.
That’s it, Motoyasu thought with a smile. His swollen lower lip that had been split open a few days ago stung at the motion. The fading bruise on his cheek ached at the same time, but there was a strange numbness in his body. The end result will still be the same, Motoyasu echoed in his thoughts. His everyday life was enough proof of the absolute power Lord Yoshimoto's held over him. Even his name, ‘Motoyasu’, had come from Lord Yoshimoto’s own. Although he learned things the hard way, Motoyasu was now a master of it: in every task given to him, the tip of every arrow he would shoot should only hit the target, no more and no less.
The sun had set, and Motoyasu had failed. He clenched his fists on his side, his whitened knuckles hidden by the darkness. He was already resigned to his fate. Tonight, it was a severe beating he would receive. Lord Yoshimoto would take a fistful of his hair and yank him to his feet. “Everything I do, I do for you, Motoyasu,” he would say. Motoyasu’s knees would wobble at the force of Lord Yoshimoto’s cruel hands, but he knew what to do. He would meet Lord Yoshimoto’s gentle eyes with an equally kind smile of his own, and only then would he be released from his grasp. He could already feel the hardness of the wooden floor as he sprawled on it. Eyes would sneak glances at the affair, but it was a common occurrence no one saw. It would be another night where his shoulders would tremble under the thick fabric of his blankets in order to silence himself from an emotion he vowed the light of the world would never see.
Motoyasu turned to make his way back to the residence, empty-handed.
“Your destiny is golden,” a raspy voice said from nearby.
Motoyasu internally scolded himself as he failed to notice the arrival of another person in the area.
There, an old man sat on one of the wooden benches near the restaurant. Although far from the festival, he was dressed in bright, resplendent clothing, and beside him, a woven cloth sack filled with his belongings rested. The book in his hand had a crimson cover, the full moon the old man’s source of light as he read. The haze of smoke that came from the old man’s kiseru on his other hand mingled with the beam of moonlight. Motoyasu could smell the bitter tang of tobacco from where he stood. He didn’t mind it. No, he didn’t mind it at all.
The old man’s eyes were trained on his book as he spoke again, “Many will plant and wait for the perfect opportunity to harvest the strawberries. Even more will knead the rice cake and fill it with the right amount of red bean paste for the fruit. That includes you. You will work for it. You will suffer. But unlike the others, you will know the sweet taste of daifuku.” He took a puff from the kiseru and released the smoke to the skies.
Was the old man pertaining to him? If so, Motoyasu almost wanted to laugh. Strawberry daifuku. He could not remember what the taste of it was like, nor the last time he had one.
Despite Motoyasu’s lack of response, the old man continued, “You are sly, cunning… very intelligent. You will meet many who are similar.” He paused to flip a page in his book. “But unlike them, your destiny is golden.”
With those words, Motoyasu thought that perhaps, the old man was a fortune-teller who swindled money from those who attended the festival. It was unfortunate for him; Motoyasu was not there for such nonsense, nor was he someone easily fooled. He maintained his calm demeanor as he passed by the old man with the aim to go back to the throng of people at the festival, and then to the residence to face his fate. “Pardon me,” Motoyasu said.
“Takechiyo.”
Motoyasu stopped in his tracks.
Takechiyo. That little boy who loved to eat sweets. That unfortunate little boy. He knew him, the child he was once upon a time, Takechiyo.
Before he could stop himself, the question slipped past his lips, “Pray tell, how did you know that name?” Even at that moment, his words were polite, but the slight knit in his brows broke the image of his nonchalance.
“It is written here in my book,” the old man had the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he answered, “Matsudaira Motoyasu.”
Motoyasu spun around and faced the old man. His expression was devoid of his smile nor did he have the neutrality he had mastered—it was a look of displeasure no person has ever witnessed in a very long time. There was a moment of silence as Motoyasu kept his composure in check. “Who are you?”
“Me?” The old man took another puff from his kiseru before he continued, “I am just an old man under the moon.”
Motoyasu’s fists were once again clenched on his sides. First, the old man spouted nonsense about the future, and now, it seemed that he—a stranger—had crucial knowledge not only about Motoyasu’s past but also his present. Motoyasu was torn. He was not supposed to listen to the deranged ramblings of this person; it was not something included in his daily list. The task was to purchase the sake and leave. The end. He had already failed in that aspect, and yet, the fact that this stranger knew certain things about himself bothered him to no end.
Motoyasu’s thoughts were interrupted as the old man spoke again, “Did you know that there are strings that bind twin flames?”
Motoyasu didn’t reply. His feet remained rooted on the ground, the old man’s words foreign to his comprehension.
“Right there.” The old man used his kiseru to point at Motoyasu’s hand. “Around your little finger.” He raised the kiseru to his lips to take another puff, the smoke stronger than it was before. “I see a lot of tangles in your string. Would you like to see who is on the other end of it? After all, she is right here.” The old man looked up from his book, eyes finally trained on Motoyasu.
“A twin… flame?” Motoyasu replied, his voice a mere whisper in his incredulity. Would he even wed? As the heir of the Matsudaira clan, perhaps he would have to take a wife. If so, she would surely be a woman chosen by the Imagawa for him; a political marriage. It didn’t matter. At the back of his mind, it seemed the old man might not be a fortune-teller but rather a matchmaker. Still, that didn’t explain why he knew so much about him.
“There.” The old man used his kiseru once more to point at the distance, towards the sidelines of festival. “That girl.”
On the surface, Motoyasu’s blood began to boil. Why was it that the future that he himself was unsure he had was being dictated to him by this stranger? He was tired. The piece of parchment inside his sleeve felt heavy. The only future he had was what waited for him the moment he would step on the grounds of the residence. In a spur of frustration and anger, Motoyasu picked up a pebble and turned towards the direction the old man pointed at. The first thing his eyes zeroed in was the giant cherry tree. It flared his sudden hatred even more. Although there were a number of people from afar, he knew at once which girl the old man pertained to. It was that one—that girl who stood under the tree he despised. The large ribbon on the back of her obi was visible to him even from afar, her kimono embellished with a spring flower he knew so well, its hues the very same as the tree’s petals. The hairpin she wore on the side of her head sparkled under the moonlight. It happened in the span of a second; Motoyasu hurled the pebble towards his target—the hairpin—equipped with the perfect aim and strength of a skilled archer.
But unlike all of the other targets he practiced with, this particular one moved. The girl turned around, and the pebble grazed her forehead. There was a twinge of something inside Motoyasu as he stood there, transfixed. One of her hands was quick to cover her injury, while the other held a short wooden branch against the tree bark in an abrupt motion to steady herself from the unexpected impact. Cherry blossom petals fell around the girl. The moonlight etched every single detail of the scene in his mind in perfect clarity. Motoyasu thought of her as someone who would be as transient as the blooms, his eyes wide and unblinking so as not to miss a second of the strange encounter.
And she was, transient. In the few seconds that he gazed at her, she had already run away and before he knew it, left more blossoms in her wake. After she had gone, it was as if Motoyasu came to his senses, suddenly aware of suddenly aware of how loud and rapid the beat of his heart had become, how his mouth fell agape, and how his breaths came out in short pants. He spun around, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. There was no book with a crimson cover, nor was there a cloth sack on the wooden bench. The scent of tobacco from the kiseru lingered, the haze still present and on its way to ascend to the heavens. In the place where the mysterious stranger once sat rested a package wrapped in golden silk cloth.
It was a bottle of sake.
Days in Hamamatsu are never mundane for Tokugawa Ieyasu.
For a time, he supposed old habits die hard. He still spent a considerable amount of time holed up in his chambers as he read a stack of various texts. Nonetheless, it is with a purpose; he aims to broaden his knowledge and apply it in the days of battle and in the governance of Mikawa. There is always something new in his quest for the restoration of the land. His retainers are something else as well. Once, he might have thought of them as mere pawns, but things have changed. For the better, he thinks.
Nights in Hamamatsu are… even more interesting, to say the least. Although Ieyasu will never admit it out loud, it is all because of her. The kitchen wench. That girl who always grins like the simpleton that she is. The one who seems to invade his thoughts every second of the day. After that battle in Nagashino, the two of them seem to have developed an inclination towards spending the nights in each other’s company. He eats his breakfast and lunch in the Main Hall, but dinner is always served in his chambers. She excitedly talks about the night’s menu as she sets the lacquered tableware down, the food still warm and fresh from the kitchens. After dinner, Ieyasu begins his choice of nightly readings. She serves him tea and does her own thing, keeping him company while she mends her clothes or writes letters and entries in her journal. Most of the time, the two of them keep to themselves but will have short conversations every now and then.
“Lord Ieyasu, these ink and brushes are great to use. The strokes come out so beautifully. See?”
“Of course, they are mine after all. You know what will happen if you ruin them, don’t you?”
“Right, right,” she replies distractedly, already back to writing whatever it was she was writing.
Some nights, Ieyasu will be engrossed in the book he reads as he buries his nose in it. Unbeknownst to her, the reality is that he steals glances at her from time to time. He finds her focused on whatever she does. Other times, she is already sprawled over the floor, breaths even as she sleeps peacefully. He carries her to his bedding and tucks her in his blanket. He clicks his tongue, a habit he has acquired over the years, only the action is not due to his usual vexation, but because of silent affection for the girl deep in her slumber.
Some nights, she remembers the time and proceeds to go back to her own room. She bids him a good night, and although she tries hard to hide it, Ieyasu notices the slump on her shoulders as she slides the shoji door shut. He hears the faintest of the sighs that escapes her lips as she walks away. As he lays on the bedding and tucks himself with the blanket that carried the slightest hint of her fragrance, he frowns and wonders why.
Some nights, they share a kiss, or two. Maybe another deep kiss that leaves them panting heavily afterwards. How many times have they kissed now? He isn't sure.
Things were simpler then, before that incident in Owari.
The strawberry daifuku, the token of apology she brought for him, is still on the table, yet to be eaten. The last thing Ieyasu expected was for her to be the one to apologize to him. Yet, he should have known. Her words and actions are always genuine. She is kind. If only he could be even just half as honest as her.
Everything happened quickly afterwards. Although the night is still young, it proved to be a night of many firsts already. It was the first time he told her, or anyone for that matter, of his deepest and sincerest feelings. Affection. Adoration. Love. The both of them saw and touched each other in ways neither of them have ever known before. He has never been so close to anyone and he finds that he… doesn't hate it. Not at all.
“You’re all sweaty.” He pats her on the side of her waist. Her eyes fluttered shut and her bare body is above his own, their legs tangled together. She rests her head over his chest, just above his heart. Her arms are draped over him, surrounding him with warmth.
“Hmm…” She makes no move to get off him nor does he do anything to push her away. “You too, Lord Ieyasu.”
“Are you falling asleep on me?”
“I wouldn't dream of it, Milord.”
They are quiet after that. He finds himself touching the strands of her hair and before long, running his fingers through its silkiness. Her forehead is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and his fingers brush the fringes stuck to her skin aside. That is when he sees it.
“Oi.”
She hums in response. “What is it?”
“Where did you get that?”
“Get what?”
“That scar.”
“Oh.” She opens her eyes as her fingers reach to trace the scar on her forehead, close to her hairline. “It’s a long story.”
Did Yasumasa do this to her? Was it that Sanada Yukimura? Or maybe that fox he kept with him? Whoever it was would pay dearly for it. “Tell me.”
To his surprise, she giggles, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “Okay,” she says and looks far off in the distance. Her body is so close to him, yet her thoughts drifted years back in the past. She begins her story with her younger days, when she had already begun to assist her parents in their restaurant in Kyoto.
“There was a time when Father, Yahiko, and I went on a trip to help around a restaurant owned by Father’s cousin. He and his wife requested for our help on the day of a festival.” Her index finger absentmindedly strokes his collarbone in languid motions. He shivers under her touch, but she does not notice as she continues her tale. “Of course, I wanted to see the festival, but we were busy with the restaurant. Luckily, it was closed early, just before sunset. Everything was sold out by that time, anyway. Uncle and Aunt were participating in the rites in the shrine, and the three of us were free to enjoy the rest of the evening in the festival. I was so excited.”
Ieyasu listens. There are many things he does not know about her. His fingers once again comb the long strands of her hair. He is busy twirling it around his finger when her next words make his motions come to an abrupt stop.
“It was in a place quite far away from the capital—Suruga. The city was not like Kyoto, but it was still full of life in its own way. The cherry blossoms were beautiful.”
Festival. Suruga. Cherry blossoms. The story is so familiar that he himself drifts years back to the memories of his past.
“I was waiting under a giant cherry tree for Father and Yahiko. They told me they would return with some dango and souvenirs. The last thing I expected was a person jumping down the tree. He appeared so suddenly that come to think of it, he might have been a shinobi.” She laughs. “Anyway, that man gave me a short branch of cherry blossoms, and then… he said something strange.” She pauses in thought, as if she is trying to figure out what the cryptic message meant even if it has been years since she heard it. "'I wish you all the best in your destiny.' That was what the man said. I didn’t understand. Still, I bowed to express my gratitude, but when I raised my head, he was just… gone. I looked around for him and that was when I was struck by something on the forehead. I ran to find Father and Yahiko at once because it stung a lot… and there was blood."
She glances at him, back to the reality of the present. “It was fine, though I started having my hair cut this way. Even if the scar is barely visible, I’ve grown quite fond of wearing it like this.” She gives him a smile that reaches her eyes as she touches the scar that has almost faded. “It’s been such a long time. Father got me my hairpin in one of the stalls at the festival. He told me it would go well with the outfit we rented. I don’t remember much about the kimono's appearance, but I remember that the little me felt pretty when she wore it. Like one of those kimekomi or hina dolls. It had flowers, I think.”
“Hollyhocks,” Ieyasu says, his voice a mere whisper.
“Huh?” She looks towards him in confusion. Illuminated by the glow of the lantern, her eyes are bright, and she is golden.
The intensity of her stare makes him look away. “If you’re so proud of it being pretty and all, then it must have been hollyhocks.”
Her eyes never leaves his profile as she calls out to him, “Lord Ieyasu?”
“What.”
“Does this mean that you think I would look pretty wearing a kimono… with hollyhocks?” she asks, her final word filled with uncertainty and reluctance. From his peripheral vision, he sees her gaze shift to the ceiling.
Ieyasu smiles. For most of his life, there have been many things hidden in it, but it is with her that he can smile truly, happily. “My, my. Aren’t we a little audacious tonight?”
She frowns. “After all we’ve done?” she mumbles under her breath.
“What are we blushing for?” he teases her and tilts his head to get a better view of her face. “You decide to get shy now... after all we’ve done?”
“I-I’m not blushing!” She covers her flushed cheeks with her palms.
For a moment, he thinks he sees a silken cord around her little finger, but it is gone in a blink of an eye. It didn’t matter to him. He takes her hands in his as he moves to uncover her face. She looks up to him again, eyes wide and innocent, and also full of love. He touches her to prove that she is real, that she exists. She is right there, and she loves him for all he is.
He kisses the scar on her forehead. It seems he had already hurt her before he even knew her. Since they met, he has hurt her many times with his words and actions. The quietest of apologies slips past his lips, and she trembles. She heard it. He would pay dearly for everything he has done to hurt her. Hells, he will do anything for her.
He kisses her eyelids. She had seen the best and worst in him—the real him—not just the Tokugawa Ieyasu he presented to others, and still chose to stay. His lips brush the slight saltiness of her tears. He hated himself for making her cry back in Owari. He never wanted to ever see her cry again, but if it were tears of joy or pleasure, like the ones falling down her cheeks now, then he is willing to make an exception.
He kisses her cheeks. He would pinch them at the most random moments—when she least paid attention or when he wanted to tease her. He loves to do it. After all, she has the best reactions, she gets flustered easily and turns red in a second. He vows that the expression would be for him and no other. Only him.
He kisses her lips. It is where words of kindness, honesty, and love never faltered even at the most difficult moments. He knew no better way to express his affections, no better way to convey the words he had a hard time saying other than through the kisses they share. From the first brush of her lips on his, he was a goner. She never fails to stir these emotions in him, these feelings he never thought he was capable of having. Although he would never admit it out loud, he would not have it any other way.
He was once a little boy who sat inside his room with a book and gazed at the giant cherry tree that bloomed in the back of the garden. He was once an outsider who looked in, even if his feet were planted on the same ground as others. He remembered the cherry blossoms outside the annex. How the blossoms that swayed in the moonlight, free—unlike him. How each petal looked like a mother's tears as she wept for her poor child. But somehow, in the arms of her, the woman who has filled him with love, the memory was not as bitter when he looked back at it now. Those days were remnants of the past. He was a guest no more. Not a gift. Not a prisoner. He has freedom and dignity. He is Ieyasu, Lord of Tokugawa. Still, he found he disliked being ‘Ieyasu’ for the longest time, thinking he was worth nothing, if not for it. It is different now as she calls his name in between their kisses, he is reminded that there is someone who knows him beyond the name. No tricks, no masks, no pretensions. She knows who he truly is and loves him for it. As she cradles his face with the gentlest of touches, he knows there will never be another one for him but her.
The last thing he thinks before the two of them lose themselves in the throes of passionate desire is that he wants to see her, once again, in a kimono adorned with hollyhocks—this time golden and grouped in threes.
Special thanks to my dearest friend and fellow ESL writer, ReverberatingEchoes, for beta reading this work and encouraging me to continue it! I’ve had the general idea for this story since last year but I was initially reluctant to write about SLBP Ieyasu because he’s my favorite character.
There were two East Asian legends intertwined in this work. First was, of course, the tale of the Red String of Fate (運命の赤い糸), which featured the "old man under the moon”. The second one was the tale of the Musubi no Kami (結びの神), the Japanese deity of love and marriage in Shintoism. Aside from those, you may have spotted some other Asian/Japanese culture references as well ★~(◡ω◕✿)
春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō [AO3]
lit. spring, summer, autumn, winter
春 || Heartstrings (Tokugawa Ieyasu/MC)
夏 || Sunkissed (Honda Tadakatsu/MC)
秋 || Crossroads (Sakakibara Yasumasa/MC)
| 秋 | Destiny [Crossroads Alternate Ending]
冬 || ???
Ichigo Daifuku's Masterlist
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
A retelling of a classic East Asian legend starring the Archer of Tokai.
Part of this story was set in the Another Story Event Series (When Fate Brought Me To You & Blossoms of Love, Blooms of Strife)
Rated M for Referenced Abuse and Implied Sexual Content
Word Count: ~5.3k
Part 1, Spring of 春夏秋冬 | Shunkashūtō
***
Hello! I crossposted this work here on Tumblr a few days ago. It was fine yesterday but when I checked on mobile today, the formatting was destroyed (?) so I'll just post this link here until I figure it out (・ω ・✿)
Special thanks to my dearest friend and fellow ESL writer, ReverberatingEchoes (AO3), for beta reading this work and encouraging me to continue it!
I've had the general idea for this story since last year but I was initially reluctant to write about SLBP Ieyasu because he's my favorite character.
There were two East Asian legends intertwined in this work. First was, of course, the tale of the Red String of Fate (運命の赤い糸), which featured the "old man under the moon". The second one was the tale of the Musubi no Kami (結びの神), the Japanese deity of love and marriage in Shintoism. Aside from those, you may have spotted some other Asian/Japanese culture references as well ★~(◡ω◕✿)
I plan to write a tetralogy of oneshots with the four seasons as the central theme. This is the first one, for spring.
Thank you for reading it and for any feedback you may leave me! 🌸
Steady & Co. - 春夏秋冬 (Shunkashuto)
'Shunkashuto' is Steady & Co.'s 2nd single.