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This is where the flow has brought us
WHO? Yoshitsugu Ōtani (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hakanai) & Takatora Tōdō (handtowels)
WHAT? A heavy conversation needs to be had at some point or other, so Yoshitsugu encourages Takatora to talk about the Battle of Sekigahara before his dear friend gets too distracted (and too protective).
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris
ANYTHING ELSE? Talk of violence, death and some heavy emotional stuff.
hakanai) & Takatora Tōdō (handtowels)WHAT? A heavy conversation needs to be had at some point or other, so Yoshitsugu encourages Takatora to talk about the Battle of Sekigahara before his dear friend gets too distracted (and too protective).
WHEN? Late 1792, Paris
ANYTHING ELSE? Talk of violence, death and some heavy emotional stuff.
It hadn't taken too long to work out what was going on with Takatora. Learning about the true nature of the flow of time, combined with how his friend had been acting since they had discovered one another working for COST, had led Yoshitsugu to a conclusion fairly quickly; he just hadn't brought it up yet. It hadn't been necessary and besides, there had been plenty of strangeness and odd battles to adjust to.
Now, though?
Sat at the desk in the small room he was currently renting, Yoshitsugu leaned back in his chair and tapped the table while he waited. The temper in this grand city was at boiling point, promising violence, and the execution he'd witnessed probably just the first he'd get to 'enjoy.' It was hard to remain completely unaffected, witnessing a man lose his head and the majority of the crowd react in such an delighted manner... Yoshitsugu was a calm and practical man, he knew what war and sacrifice were, but even he felt unnerved at such a display. Oh, he didn't show it, but it happened nonetheless.
Takatora had clearly been affected too but in his case, it really did show. Strongly. He'd been protective of Yoshitsugu before but not to this degree; the message he'd sent suggesting Takatora would be locking him up soon was only half a joke. There was a link, there, and it was driving his companion to distraction. Distraction was dangerous. They couldn't afford to be distracted in a 'war' like this.
"Over there."
He waved towards the food he'd collected earlier when Takatora returned, not even bothering with a greeting beyond a slight smile. Time to draw back the veil.
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"Ow."
The tug, the words; both warranted that response. But Yoshitsugu, was, as always, right.
"No," Takatora said after a moment, honest. Final.
Just that admission helped to ease some of the weight.
"A new dream..."
It was... nice, to think of it that way. More than nice, really: it would be the first dream that they shared since the Azai perished. The corners of his mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile.
Then he spluttered as he went over that speech again in his mind.
"What? What did you say? C-cute?"
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...not that their time in COST would be a 'fun' adventure. This was war, and the two locations they had known alone were brutal and full of hardship. There would be suffering. Hard times. Takatora would have reasons to worry, even Yoshitsugu himself would. Forgetting that was foolish. But it was equally foolish to avoid seizing the moments of happiness they found in the chaos.
"You heard what I said." Dropping Takatora's lock of hair, Yoshitsugu instead poked him (gently) on the chin. "Stop acting like it's an unusual thing for me to call you."
For now, they could pursue a shared dream again.
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"I thought you did that just to tease Mitsunari. He was always afraid that I'd steal you away. Not that any of my attempts ever worked."
In fairness, Takatora had made no secret of offering Yoshitsugu a place in the Tokugawa faction every time Hideyoshi called upon Lord Ieyasu to serve the Toyotomi in their heyday. Both on and off the battlefield.
Funny how Mitsunari never had anything to actually be jealous of.
While he did not like Mitsunari personally, thought little of him as a leader and he certainly hated the choice that Yoshitsugu made at Sekigahara, even Takatora knew that Mitsunari was nothing like the ilk of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi.
Takatora sighed.
"...Can you at least spend less time around guillotines? How many executions have we seen this week?"
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What would Mitsunari make of COST? Yoshitsugu pondered the thought for a moment. He'd be good for keeping numbers but the idea of him trying to blend into all these different time periods and act as anything other than himself? He'd be worse at it than their comrades with the unusually coloured hair.
At least Mitsunari's passion for the cause would be real. That fire burned many, but also drew others in and inspired them to work against insurmountable odds.
Even if they could not be overcome.
"Enough to solidify my claims as a man of 'China' impressed and enamoured by this brave revolution."
Yoshitsugu settled both of his hands either side of Takatora's head, brushing against it with his thumb occasionally. He'd suspected seppuku was involved when Takatora had become ill at the sight of a guillotine and was not so unkind as to force more upon his companion now he knew for sure.
"It's okay. My devoted follower can go off to do other important tasks, if he likes."
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As much as he never wished to face another beheading in his life, if he avoided all executions someone might notice. There was too much suspicion in their air and too many accusations flying around this impressive and imposing city. Their mission had to come first.
"My master can't spare me every time."
Really, he should have stopped at 'me', but right now he felt weak and the offer was an irresistible kindness. Yoshitsugu would be fine without him. Even if the thought of separation still made his heart clench.
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"I can spare you whenever I wish." His eyes went half-lidded, catlike. "You should trust your kind and benevolent leader."
This was just lighthearted teasing, of course; Takatora knew well just how much complete nonsense Yoshitsugu talked. It was just... normal. This was normal.
For them, anyway. And that was the point.
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Kind and benevolent indeed.
Yoshitsugu's hair tickled his face; Takatora endured it for a number of seconds before he lifted a hand to attempt to tuck those stray locks behind Yoshitsugu's ears. Without thinking, his hand, rather than falling, came to rest on the back of Yoshitsugu's neck.
If there was intent there, it faded after a moment, and a touch of colour graced Takatora's cheeks at he dropped his hand back to his side.
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"You ascribe me the power to read minds and then act like that?"
But if it helped him cope, that was good enough, for now.
Yoshitsugu shook his head so his hair fell down yet again and smiled more widely, offering something rare from himself; an open look of fondness, bare and uncomplicated.
"Takatora may not think much of the flow, but he rejects it at the most ridiculous times."
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"I'm not rejecting anything."
He thrust his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a handtowel, then raised both hands to gather up Yoshitsugu's hair, which he proceeded to tie back with said handtowel.
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"...perhaps I should go and kiss the Lady of this house."
Raising a hand, he picked at the handtowel now securing his hair back and asked, in a serious tone:
"She's made it clear she would quite like to lay in my lap herself. What do you think?"
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But then Yoshitsugu spoke, and Takatora froze.
He huffed as he let go and dropped back down, turning away as a stab of humiliation pierced him.
"...Idiot," he muttered, flustered, though it was unclear which of them it was directed at.
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"You can be."
Eyes bright with humour and fondness both, Yoshitsugu leaned forward and shifted enough so he could kiss his sulking Takatora's cheek instead. He absolutely couldn't help himself with his teasing, he really couldn't, but look at that flustering, that reaction! Wasn't it cute?
"I'll make it up to you by sharing the secret handtowel dance of the cats, now you've put one on my head."
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"Y-you... Yoshitsugu," he said thickly, as his initial confusion gave way as he understood the reference.
It was suitably ghostly for his friend.
He smiled hopelessly, and spoke almost tentatively. Maybe because he feared to have it, but overwhelmingly, he wanted it.
Secret handtowel dances very much included.
"I'm idiotic enough to love a bakaneko."
This time Takatora took no chances and tilted his head up to capture Yoshitsugu's mouth with his own before Yoshitsugu could sit back.
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Which made the experience no less good.
"You do have terrible taste," Yoshitsugu agreed after, quiet and obviously satisfied as he pulled back just a fraction. "But it's too late to hide it."
He pressed a finger against his own lips, looking at Takatora thoughtfully. It was absolutely true that he didn't deserve either of his two dear friends; they were both better people than he was. Mitsunari's dream was the one Yoshitsugu had been able to throw himself at, inspired by his more irritable friend's passion for it despite where it would lead, and he'd hoped to repay at least some of the kindness he'd been shown by doing this.
Takatora, though... well. It was probably impossible to ever repay him for what he had done, would do, for Yoshitsugu. A good death and a love that had never faded despite their separate paths? That was far, far more than Yoshitsugu had earned.
So he'd better make good use of this bonus time together, hadn't he? A little extra payment to go with his soul.
"You're well enough now to eat." Yoshitsugu dropped his hand and buried it right back in Takatora's hair. "Then sleep. You're exhausted and look terrible for it."
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"All right," he said, eventually.
This whole conversation had definitely left him feeling exhausted; his soul cleansed, his heart hopeful, but nonetheless wrung out.
So he would eat, then sleep, and face the coming days revitalised.
Beside Yoshitsugu.