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Season 1 桃始笑- First Peach Blossoms
Genichiro loved the night.
The mortals of the outer world and his own clan often shuddered away from the cool, tender darkness for fear of the things that lingered amidst the shadows. Perhaps because he had always been strong, his dedication to his clan so devout that he had never balked at the pitch-indigo of night. And now…
His Wolf came in the endless nights of the realm where Genichiro waited for his retribution.
How fitting, that his Wolf prowled in the silence and the night. Wolf loved the night just the same. He was a shinobi so perhaps he felt comfort and safety under the protection of the moon. Rangy, oft-times his clothes were in tatters, soaked in blood, and his legs stumbled from the arduous journey. The quiet lone wolf…Genichiro anticipated him with patience and undue excitement.
“So, you have come to defend your Divine Heir?”
Even his words, low in cadence as they already were, softened across the evening expanse. They were almost drowned out by the rustle of the peach blossom petals in the lone, gnarled tree behind him. The petals fell as snow around them; did his Wolf have under his claws and fangs—cobbled together through his trials—any skin as pale and unmarred as the blossoms? Such errant thoughts could pass the ages.
His Wolf angled away from him. A less perceptive man might think he was preparing to bolt but Genichiro knew by now that Wolf would not flee from any fight. He was simply preparing for their inevitable battle, his metal fingers touching the worn cord wrap of his tsuka . If Genichiro was the smiling type, he might have allowed his lips to turn up at the corners. His Wolf always took his time in responding to a direct challenge but…Genichiro was patient after many years.
“I am. Though you are Lord of the Ashina, I will stop you here.”
Genichiro slid one of his geta closer to Wolf, shifting several of the fallen peach petals. Their rustle was imperceptible but Wolf tensed at the movement, the sound, the threat. If Genichiro took so much as a step forward, his Wolf would bare his fangs and rush forward. All in good time…
“Once more then?” They had fought countless times and yet his Wolf returned time after time. “Shall I take your other hand?” Autumn-red blood, Wolf had howled and crept off into the darkness to lick his wounds. Even now his dark eyes narrowed at the memory but he was too well-trained to draw his blade.
He would not be baited.
Two spirits locked in endless combat, they had the time. Genichiro could take his time. His Wolf…dark of hair, scarred and pale, haggard from innumerable battles but eyes blazing with determination. The perfect shinobi , night incarnate, soft and sharp and terrifying. No matter who emerged the victor they would both return to this designated field, under the blooming tree to water it with blood. As surely as the moon would rise again.
It sat fat and full in the dark sky directly above his opponent and scented of peach.
Genichiro unsheathed his blade and the rasp of it cut through the soft quiet of the night. Wolf’s fushigiri was out in response, a curve of red and silver that shimmered with divine energy.
“Come at me with all your strength, my Wolf. I shall not hold back.”
The Wolf’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw clenching over Genichiro’s familiarity but he did not attempt to refute the possessiveness of the statement. “This ends here.”
Season 2 櫻始開- First Cherry Blossoms
The cherry blossoms had begun to fall the moment his Wolf fell.
In one of their innumerable fights, Genichiro had caught him in a lucky cut under the arm, diagonally across the chest. An arc of scarlet hit the blackened bark of the tree and Wolf’s legs gave out. Genichiro waited for the fushigiri to give up their energies in a last dying light of kanji before he felt safe enough to step forward.
His Wolf would likely consider it dishonorable to play dead in an attempt to get the upper hand but…Genichiro could never be too careful. He kept his smaller wakizashi out in case of an ambush.
His Wolf breathed in a dying rattle as Genichiro shifted that limp, lean form into his arms. The warmth of life blood dripped down his arms, his hands, staining the exposed bits of his fine clothes but he could not be bothered. They were precious: the last warm remnants of his Wolf, ephemeral and fleeting as the cherry blossoms themselves.
A true warrior, Genichiro cleared the dark hair from Wolf’s scarred face. In another life, perhaps, they might have been comrades, Wolf of the Ashina, his man body and soul as they worked towards a common goal. Curse the fates for pitting such a man against him when they could have been…more…
A twitch of Wolf’s fingers and Genichiro bowed his head low until it was pressed against Wolf’s. His skin was still warm from exertion and Genichiro basked in the feeling. How rare the feeling: that he could share so intimate a touch with someone as guarded and lonely as his Wolf. Only the throes of death would allow it.
“My Wolf.” His tone was reverential. “Why must you fight me? Must fate be so cruel that we be at the end of each other’s blades? How many times will I be forced to cut you down?” After so many times…it was beginning to affect him. Only his innate sense of duty for his clan kept him from staying his hand.
There was a raspy breath from the general direction of his Wolf’s mouth and Genichiro took a good long look at his adversary.
In the doldrums of oncoming death, Wolf’s face was relaxed of its usual worry lines and the semi-permanent furrow between his brows. Genichiro could appreciate the small details: the masculine cut of his Wolf’s jaw, the faint dark stubble on his chin, the latticework of pale red scars on his forehead. He almost missed Wolf’s final words, the precious things nearly drowned out over the soft rustle of the cherry blossoms.
“As…many as…it takes.” He must have been using the very last of his strength and Genichiro felt a twinge of elation in his breast that he was so deserving of this herculean effort. “I won’t…let it…end…”
But Genichiro was simply too powerful. His Wolf’s sloe-dark eyes rolled back in his head and his entire form went limp. Such regret…It was tragic to see someone so determined and strong suddenly devoid of life.
Genichiro took one last lingering look before hooking his free hand under Wolf’s legs and hoisting his body up against his chest. He only had a few more moments.
With Wolf’s head resting lightly on his shoulder, Genichiro leaned his back against the black bark of the tree and watched the cherry blossoms float around them. In another life they might have shared the moment together, his Wolf breathing in time with the slow rhythm of the falling petals. Instead he waited with his lifeless Wolf…waited for the blooms to turn again.
Season 3 牡丹華- Peonies Bloom
It was so rare that his Wolf arrived at their battlefield—that peaceful glade—before Genichiro did. He was not a late man by nature but clearly fate was at work and his was a treacherous journey. Genichiro approached slowly so as not to startle his Wolf and took in the rare scene of respite.
His Wolf’s armor was dented and bloodied, his step more of a limp as he stepped gently in between the blossoms. The peonies were in full bloom amidst the other tall grasses in the field, bobbing softly in splotches of red and pink. Wolf’s bandaged hands hovered just above the blooms as if he longed to reach down and stroke them. He did not breach the distance and Genichiro could understand his Wolf’s thoughts. The man did not want to mar the blooms with the blood and the dirt caked on his palms.
Genichiro did not even allow himself to breathe for fear of making a sound.
Soon they would fight and the flowers would be trampled underfoot but…for just a moment his Wolf deserved a moment to enjoy the sight and smell of the blossoms. He was truly regretful when he felt it was time to speak.
“You like them?”
Wolf did not even flinch which made Genichiro wonder if his presence had been noted since the beginning. Wolf dropped his hand back down to his side but did not take his eyes off of one of the pink peonies. “It…changes every time we come.”
Some small blessing of the gods, it was true that the flowers changed with each of their encounters though the single gnarled tree that had been frothing with cherry blossoms last they met was now entirely devoid of leaves and flowers. It would be a tragedy…this time it would be the peonies watered by his Wolf’s life blood.
Genichiro slid one sandaled foot closer but kept his hands carefully away from his weaponry. “I wonder…all of the flowers are ones that grow in the Ashina home. We have the trees planted around the gates and walls; peonies in the inner gardens. A thing of beauty.” How badly he wished his Wolf could see the grounds in the soft light of day when there was naught but the sound of rustling leaves, birdsong, and the gentle chime of the fuurin bells that hung from the rafters.
Wolf’s expression was wry, as if he wanted to smile but could not bring himself to find the humor in the situation. “If I should defeat you this day then I will be sure to admire the Ashina grounds when I bring them your body.” One finger flicked out, the nail brushing one of the peonies and Genichiro’s breath caught in his throat. The sudden, quick touch was far too intimate. “I swear to you, on my honor as a shinobi , I will not dishonor you by lingering.”
Shinobi , from what little Genichiro knew of them, were ever-transient. They had no single spot to call home for fear of fleeing in the dead of night. His Wolf likely had no place where he could truly be at ease. His home was as fleeting as the flowers in their secluded glade.
His self-control lapsed for only a moment but it was enough.
Genichiro raised up a moment on the balls of his feet and crossed the length of the field in five quick strides. Wolf’s exhausted reflexes failed him momentarily and he could only take a half step back before Genichiro had one hand on Wolf’s katana , keeping it sheathed, the other resting just under Wolf’s stubbled chin. “To the man who would best me in honorable combat? Linger with honor, Wolf.”
He was so close he felt the air of Wolf’s soft gasp brush his jaw. What a handsome face . Emboldened, cheeky Genichiro took another half step forward, so close that their chests were nearly brushing.
Wolf’s dark pupils dilated and he leapt back as if bitten.
His hand was at his waist in preparation to fight but his expression was tinged with…uncertainty. “I don’t— why ?”
Genichiro allowed himself to smile as he dropped his hand. The fingers that had been resting just under his Wolf’s chin seemed to tingle and burn with the lingering heat of warm skin. His hands brushed a peony and he rubbed a petal errantly between his fingers; the petals were smooth and soft…like lips, like breath.
“Why, indeed.”
Season 4 菖蒲華- Irises Bloom
His Wolf took such a long time to arrive…
Genichiro had waited for what seemed like eons that he finally slid his blade into the ground by his waist and lounged amongst the blooming irises so that he could watch the stars. Though the moon was a sickle of its former glory, there was a crimson aurora that spread across the sky in a message from the gods. This time it was Wolf who came upon him in repose and Genichiro smiled.
He heard the telltale sound of the straw-woven sandals coming to a halt and Wolf’s confusion and distrust was almost palpable. He likely suspected some trick or ambush.
“Lord Genichiro—” Oh, that was a new and dangerous turn of events.
Genichiro interrupted swiftly before his Wolf could complete the thought, “The gods are sending us a message.” One finger traced the pheasant-tail curves of the red aurora. “ Kataoka . I thought I might try to decipher their meaning while I waited. Or do shinobi not have the luxury of time to gaze at the heavens?”
There was a moment of silence before Wolf scoffed slightly. “ Shinobi are born at night, raised under the moon. I’m well-acquainted with the sight of stars.”
“Perhaps then you could discern this omen better than I.” Another half step. So cautious. “We have all the time in the world to fight. I swear on the honor of my clan: I’ll not attack you lying down. Sit beside me without fear, Wolf.”
He hoped his exposed katana would be enough assurance for his Wolf and waited patiently. It felt like eons but he finally heard the reluctant traipsing of Wolf through the dry grass and iris stems. Genichiro held himself so still he swore his heart ceased to beat as his Wolf positioned himself at a decorous distance and settled down to look at the heavens. Somehow he had convinced this predator to lay peacefully beside him and then—
“A pheasant’s tail.” Wolf’s fingers traced the plumes in the sky as well, the light reflecting in ruby glints off of the metal in his prosthetic arm. “He’s a messenger of the sun goddess, Amaterasu. Harbinger of power and prosperity.” His tone was dreamy, almost hopeful, and Genichiro wondered if Wolf was thinking of his Divine Lord, the hope of his clan.
“Power and prosperity for whom?”
He was half-teasing but Wolf closed his fist over the thought of power and prosperity coming to the Ashina clan. “It’s not so specific as to whom. It could be the island as a whole. It could be a single child blessed by the gods.” There was a slight rustle and, when Genichiro looked over, Wolf was staring at him. “We can only hope…it is us they smile on.” Only one of them could be granted such a thing .
His Wolf was close.
If Genichiro was to stretch out his left arm, his palm would rest on Wolf’s chest. Was he selfish to wish the good fortune would be his own? Was he selfish to wish good fortune on his Wolf?
Genichiro closed his eyes briefly and, when he opened them again, he saw Wolf had ceased to gaze at the sky and was now staring directly at Genichiro. There was no malice or bloodlust in the night darkness of his eyes. “Are we to fight then?”
There could be no question then.
His Wolf’s tone was soft and unwilling. Unspoken, but Genichiro could read the air: his Wolf did not want to battle this evening, he wanted to lie amongst the soft, purple irises and stare at the stars indefinitely. It was breathtaking, exhilarating; Genichiro simultaneously felt as though time had ceased to move forward while his heart raced at a horse’s pace.
He let his instincts take hold in a rare lapse of his excellent control and rolled so he was lying on his flank. One of his hands shot out, viper-quick, and snatched one of Wolf’s hands before he could pull them away. The ‘flesh’ under his palm was hard and metallic but it was no less— indecent, intimate —than if he had taken Wolf’s non-prosthetic hand.
Wolf’s eyes were near as wide as the moon itself and he seemed to be frozen in place rather than attempting to bolt, as he normally would.
“Are we? Are we, my Wolf?” He squeezed the elegant, metallic fingers lightly wondering if Wolf could sense the pressure. “You want to take up arms now?”
A cornered animal, Wolf’s eyes darted from Genichiro’s eyes, to his hands, his lips, his sword…
Wolf’s voice was nearly lost over the other sounds and sensations but Genichiro had become somewhat of an expert in catching every non-violent little thing Wolf offered him in their secluded glade.
“Lord Genichiro… please …”
Season 5 菊花開- First Chrysanthemums
His Wolf held still in the month of the chrysanthemums. He was ankle-deep in a sea of them, full and fat and colored deep as the sunset skies. It was vibrant enough to make Genichiro’s eyes swim but he scarcely spared the flowers a glance as his fingertips grazed the thin skin of Wolf’s jaw.
Touch .
It was such a simple thing that he had always taken for granted but…touching Wolf felt as though it was a once-in-a-lifetime moment.
Every second had to be savored and memorized so that every detail would haunt his dreams. Every rasp of facial hair his thumb encountered, every hitch in Wolf’s breath as he encountered a soft patch of warm skin, the thick, coarse tangle of his long hair, the delightful, shocked little noise that Wolf made when Genichiro slid his hands down the side of Wolf’s silky throat, tracing his heartbeat down to where his collarbones met his clothes…
“ Stop ! I—” They both jolted as Wolf grasped Genichiro’s wrists, warm flesh and cold metal like yin and yang. The stars were in Wolf’s dark eyes as he looked up at Genichiro. No bloodlust or malice…just… “Lord Genichiro. We are…sworn to fight until…” Genichiro could scarcely focus over his name, his title whispered in Wolf’s soft voice, “one of us should fall. We cannot —I cannot—”
Wolf gasped again as Genichiro put one hand back on his jaw, thumb on his bottom lip. “We have a moment. Just one. In all of this endless toil of fate, surely fate can’t begrudge us just a moment.” He took one half-step closer so that Wolf had to look up just a little more. “Or two…”
“Our duty…”
Their weapons were sheathed at their sides, just within reach and Genichiro smiled. “Try to kill me if you wish.” His sweet Wolf was so honor-bound, he had to be coerced to allow himself this one moment of intimacy. His free hand went up to hold Wolf’s sword hand in place. “I don’t mind dying a few moments later than planned.”
If Wolf’s eyes got any wider then the moon itself would have enough room in their black depths. All the honor and duty of the Ashina weighed against the charm of one man.
He was already the greatest villain in his Wolf’s mind, he might as well take further liberties. Wolf would never bridge the distance between them so Genichiro would do it for him. His grip on Wolf’s jaw tightened infinitesimally, holding Wolf’s head in place so that he could lower his head and—
Wolf’s lips were slightly chapped from the perils of his journey but…overall…
Soft as the chrysanthemum petals.
His gasp was a warm breath against Genichiro’s lips and Genichiro briefly entertained the thought of turning his head, deepening his kiss, feeling his Wolf’s legs give in supplication. He kept his kiss as chaste as he could manage. He nursed softly at Wolf’s lower lip, moved his hand so that it tenderly cupped the base of his Wolf’s skull.
Tenderness . So precious in the vicious world they lived in.
“L-Lord Genichiro!” Wolf’s voice came out choked when Genichiro allowed him pause…if only to see his Wolf’s expression. He was crimson, wet-lipped, wide-eyed. “Why—?”
“How cruel.” Genichiro tugged Wolf into his chest, lest he lose control of himself again. “That fate would paint me such a coward. I should have done this an age ago. Wolf. My Wolf.” He pushed his fingers deep into Wolf’s black hair, severing the thong that tied his hair back. Truly seeing Wolf with his hair down was as titillating as imagining him unclothed. There was something unguarded and intimate about the look on him. Genichiro knew he shouldn’t say it but, if he was rallying against fate this evening then he might as well cross every boundary they’d wordlessly put into place. “I care for you, my Wolf.”
Wolf did not step away or reach for his weapon, even as Genichiro lightly relaxed his hold. “We—I cannot—we…”
There was no outright denial. Genichiro took full advantage.
“We shouldn’t.” He agreed before kissing Wolf’s lips again, this time something soft and quick.
“Lord G-Genichiro—I— please …”
Such a tender plea. Whatever fate was at hand surely would not begrudge them a few more moments amongst the chrysanthemums. There were no blooms, no leaves on the single gnarled tree in the center of their battlefield but the spindly branches would have to provide enough cover. Genichiro pressed Wolf’s back against the black bark and kissed him again.
Season 6 山茶始開- Camellias Bloom
In a land where winter should have gripped the entirety of the land, their secluded glade was largely untouched by frost, save in the grasses at the very edge. The center closest to the tree—now bursting with red-gold camellias—was devoid of wind or cold. Even if there had been a chill, Wolf would have been entirely protected from it.
He was nestled between Genichiro’s legs, his back pressed against Genichiro’s chest, most of their bodies covered by Genichiro’s fine cloak. Genichiro’s heart swooped in time with the little melody Wolf was whistling, a shinobi song that would be lost over the rattle of ice and wind.
Genichiro kissed the top of Wolf’s head before resting his chin on the spot. He’d lost track of how many times he’d kissed his Wolf— his Wolf—since the chrysanthemums had bloomed in their secluded field but it was nowhere near enough. He continued to pepper them lightly behind Wolf’s ear, down the curve of his neck, pulling the neck of Wolf’s kimono out so that he could peer down into—
A set of metal knuckles rapped lightly against his forehead. “You push your limits, my lord.”
Lord Genichiro never tired of hearing Wolf call him ‘my lord’. They both knew that Genichiro would never become Wolf’s lord in the true sense but Wolf would grant him this one selfishness when they were alone. He kissed one of the exposed scars that sliced white across Wolf’s back. “We are unbound by limitations here, my Wolf. Time will rest still until we draw blades against each other again.”
Wolf tensed up against him, perhaps thinking of the duties they both neglected in these stolen moments of peace. Genichiro kissed him again in response.
“As long as you continue to defeat me, the cycle will persist.” Wolf spoke meditatively as he looked up at their red-petaled canopy. “I wonder…if I should defeat you if things would change. If all of this will change.”
His Wolf had never once defeated him in combat in their field. And it brought up a fine point.
When he defeated his Wolf, they both inevitably returned but only the gods knew what would come to pass if Genichiro fell. Maybe they would never return. His heart clenched at the thought and he wrapped one arm across Wolf’s chest. After all this time he’d taken in careful steps to woo his Wolf? Would they be left with nothing? Would it fall away as the flower petals in each season?
“You would need to defeat me first to ever consider what might happen after.” Genichiro joked, putting his mouth as close to Wolf’s ear as possible. He earned himself a sharp elbow jab in the gut for his cheekiness. “We could…stay like this indefinitely.”
Wolf’s head turned quickly and his expression was outright shock. “Y-you would abandon the Ashina? Abandon your plans?” The thought must have offended the very core of Wolf’s honorable and dutiful nature. And it would be a betrayal of the highest order since the Ashina had adopted him as one of their own. He would be turning his back on the only family he’d ever known.
“Do you want me to?” It was a pleasant dream: this selfishness of shirking his duty and fate to lie back and watch the seasons change with his Wolf. “Stay here until all the camellias fall?” He plucked an intact bloom from the ground and tucked it against Wolf’s ear, like young shrine maidens would.
Wolf turned slightly in Genichiro’s arms and Genichiro smiled at the slight flush on his cheeks. “Such jests should not be made so lightly, Lord Genichiro.”
“Ah, my Wolf. In another life, I pray to the gods that it not be a jest. That we may remain together at our leisure.”
Wolf flushed even darker and turned back, nestling deeper under Genichiro’s cloak. He would hide his expression until he got himself under control. Genichiro nipped lightly at one of Wolf’s earlobes and squeezed him tighter. When Wolf seemed unwilling to respond, Genichiro began to hum a tune of his own with Wolf occasionally whistling a low harmony.
“It is,” he almost missed Wolf’s reply over his song, “a pleasant dream.”
It need not be a dream .
“Perhaps,” Genichiro rested his head on Wolf’s shoulder, “if you defeat me then such a dream might come to pass.” Wolf turned to look at him and Genichiro was so close that he could lean forward and kiss his Wolf deeply. Wolf fairly gasped as Genichiro broke the kiss. “ If you defeat me, that is.”
Wolf scoffed lightly. “ When I defeat you, Lord Genichiro, and when my Divine Heir has been ensconced in glory then I will pray to the gods daily that we meet again peacefully in the next life.” Quicker than thought, shinobi quick, a red camellia was placed on Lord Genichiro’s ear in a mirror of Wolf’s. “Perhaps under a camellia tree.”
A pleasant dream indeed.
Genichiro shifted Wolf so that his charming shinobi was now facing him. “My honorable Wolf. I look forward to our serene future together. But I wish,” he slid his hands up Wolf’s cheeks, savoring the feeling of their bare skin pressed together, “a few more moments here.”
To hell with the gods.
He would lay worship at his Wolf’s sandaled feet for how sweetly he kissed. Another precious, quiet moment stolen beneath the flowers and the moon.
The End