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It had all begun with the time travel apparatus making a few odd whirring and clicking sounds for a past few times as the sword warriors had left to do their duty.
But nothing had happened to make it too worrying of a sign, simply whacking the machine a few times had easily quieted it.
So when the blinding light that always accompanied leaving and returning to the citadel died down around the first unit of sword warriors, they certainly had to blink twice at the sight that awaited them. A small cove surrounded by carefully manicured trees, and an unusually opulent shrine at the opposite end of the circle to a paved path up a small hill.
They’d… estimated the time wrong, surely. But no, their handheld pieces of time traveling equipment firmly pointed to the right time and place, as it had hundreds of times before.
The first to speak was Heshikiri Hasebe, always the attendant at heart, “I see. We’ll just have to find out what year it is, and we can re-calibrate correctly. I’m sure it’s simply a bug in the system, nothing to panic about…”
The rest of the tsukumogami agreed, if a bit uncomfortably, to the trek up the hilly path, clearly well traveled at least, hoping to find a village to ask for help from.
But what they found instead was… a palace? A palace complex in the middle nowhere, with fields set behind it seemingly to not to ruin the view. But no village. Not even a small military encampment in the front or to the sides. The silence felt ominous and imposing as they shared a collective glance, before slowly approaching the enormous front gates.
The gates seemingly opened on their own as they neared, pulled open without a single question from the servants manning them silently.
Had they been expected by whoever the palace belonged to? Their own sage back home sometimes received visitors through something similar to the time travel the swords used. Maybe they had accidentally intercepted a signal of summoning…? Though that would make the palace the residence of… another sage perhaps? Were there other sages?
The servants proved to be no help, their faces obscured by a cloth hanging from a headband, simply bowing deep and hurrying away from the guests and back to their posts, not a word said in response to their desperate attempts on asking for advice.
So the tsukumogami simply kept at it, crossing the courtyard that felt like it went on for impossibly long, before arriving at huge stone steps leading up to the first proper building, it too surrounded by walls extending off of it. They all hoped against hope that it wouldn’t be yet another courtyard to cross.
Pushing open the doors of what did disappointingly turn out to be another gatehouse, the men came to an unexpected stop.
The courtyard had people in it. Not people, per say. But swords.
Their fellow swords warriors they’d fought many battles with, were here.
They could tell apart at least Jiroutachi by his height and obnoxiously catchy laughter, as he pitched a ball much too fast to who had to be Sengo Muramasa.
Had to be, if not for their dress. The clothes were almost just as unexpected as their presence. Flowy sleeves and hair put up with elaborate pins, much more reminiscent of a ukiyo-e scene than what their own homely citadel could ever have been.
But there was no time to take in the scene further, the two swords already greeting them with loud voices and waving arms. Though it didn’t escape Hasebe, how the two men had first glanced towards the palace main before greeting them. Like two children making sure there was no one watching before doing something naughty. But it was so quickly gone that it might simply have been Hasebe thinking too much. He had a bad habit of it.
“You’re not supposed to be back for… uhh, a week more, right? If you’re slacking off, the Prince’s gonna have your hides for it!”, Jiroutachi laughed out loud, the threat holding no real edge, as he gracelessly tossed the ball in his hands to Hasebe, who caught it barely at the last minute, baffled out of his mind.
The prince? He could have imagined that there could be another sage, in the theory that multiple sages existed, but… could multiple copies of a sword spirit exist too? At the same time?
It made no sense to him. Their sage would have absolutely mentioned it before, endlessly fascinated by the topic.
Could… it really just be a different time? A citadel from before theirs? But the travel apparatus still stood firm on the time and place being exactly right.
“...Wait, wait, you’re not supposed to be in the expedition team, right? I think I know you… you’re the lower court’s medic!”, Sengo suddenly spoke up, golden eyes studying Yagen Toushirou with unabashed interest, seeming almost jealous as he stared at the bare legs of the tantou standing behind Hasebe.
But before Yagen could defend himself from the baffling statement, another man emerged from the gate at the end of the courtyard, clad in flowing purple silks and seemingly startled by the group present at the other end, hurrying over as fast as the long skirts allowed him.
“It’s not the 18th yet, is it–? You’re not—”, he began, catching his breath quickly, before it froze in his throat. The expedition team certainly looked… different than he’d last seen them.
Hasebe was far from an unusual sight, always the captain of every expedition team if the Prince permitted, but… Nagasone certainly was a rare sight. Last time he’d seen his brothers, they’d been… in less than stellar shape.
“Mouu~, the babysitter’s here… Might as well get back to the hall”, Jirou lamented with a shake of his head, the multitude of trinkets in his hair clinking like a windchime. Sengo seemed just as enthusiastic about moving from the spot, his eyes still glued to the team and their unabashedly strange get-up.
“Look at that chest… Wish I was allowed just a haori sometimes too”, the pink haired man whispered much too loudly to be a coincidence, which flushed Hachisuka red on the spot. He’d been doing so well keeping his eyes far away from Nagasone’s wide open haori and sculpted chest.
“A-ah, right. The Prince is busy at the moment, you were not expected so soon. But I’m sure he’ll be… receiving you in a few hours at most.” As he spoke, Hachisuka made sure to keep his eyes squarely on Hasebe, the man he’d dealt with the most after all. Hasebe would undoubtedly know exactly what he’d meant by ‘busy’.
Turning his back to the group in a wordless order to follow, the lilac man started on a beeline to the gate he’d entered through, following the two other men dressed in court attire already some distance ahead of them.
Though Hachisuka didn’t get far, before a sturdy hand landed on his arm, wrapping around it in an overly friendly fashion. Of all possible people it had to be Nagasone to have jogged up to him to try and talk. And talk he did, the absolute fool.
“It’s really you, huh? God, you look gorgeous. I’d never thought I’d see you in something like that, but it really suits you…”, the man smiled wide, looking down at the shorter man with unabashed curiosity, though it didn’t escape him how the other’s eyes too had immediately snapped to scan the big palace building ahead of them, before even reacting to the flirty compliments. What was he so scared of?
“Please…”, Hachisuka’s voice came barely above a whisper, a delicate hand coming to shield his face from the other’s eyes with a sleeve like an old fashioned maiden.
Though the surroundings themselves were old fashioned too, it still felt wildly out of place on his proud and headstrong brother.
What had they done to the Kotetsu?
—----
As the lost expedition team entered the main hall of the sprawling palace, they could easily feel the almost oppressive atmosphere coming over them like a curtain, the smell of incense and amber hanging in the air, but without any visible source.
Behind a stately pair of red doors directly after the hall, they soon found themselves in what was clearly a reception room of sorts.
In the middle of the room, On two dais overlaid like wide stairs sat a low rosewood bench, wide enough for a man to comfortably lounge on, cushioned by pillows. Behind it spread a beautiful woodcut panel, intricate patterns of dragons in flight fanning out from the middle like a peacock's tail, framing the sitter as the centerpiece. Above the throne was a canopy of draped velvet, drawn at the sides as a substitute for walls, though still clearly marking an area forbidden from others.
“My lord, the expedition team has returned”, Hachisuka addressed the man on the throne with practiced ease as he bowed deep. The man had sat up in his seat almost leisurely like a cat to see them better.
“I met them at the second front gate this morning, but there seems to be something wrong”
“Front gate, hm…?”The prince’s voice was velvety, his words almost too slow to be natural in comparison to the sharp, nearly incandescently golden eyes, staring through the soul of anyone that dared to look into them.
“Tell me Hachisuka. What were you doing going to the front gates in the first place?”, Ouji addressed him with an unnerving calm, though only after the sword retreated to his usual place, standing on the lower dais, just to the left of the comfortably cushioned throne. As he spoke, Ouji had not bothered to even look his way in favor of watching the odd guests, their confusion a great source of entertainment.
Hachisuka opened his mouth a few times like a fish out of water, looking increasingly alarmed at his own lack of response. If he said he’d been there to look for the other two men, all three would be in trouble. But coming up with a convincing excuse on the spot had never been his strong suit.
His silence spoke for him though, earning a tired growl from the sage.
“You’re about to lie to me, aren’t you?”
Staring at the man in alarm, the sword quickly attempted to apologize, but was met only with a sharp snap of the fingers, shutting up instantly in shame, pursing his lips to keep from displaying it for all the court to see. He was valued for his high pedigree, after all. Being a lying little sneak was way below his status.
But there was an order to such things, and obeying now would mean getting it over with quickly, rather than forcing the other people present to see something even more shameful.
Like a good servant, Hachisuka made his way to stand in front of the wide dais, settling into his neatest seiza before bowing until his forehead laid on top of his hands.
“I apologize for my mistakes, my lord. This servant begs for your forgiveness.”
Above him, unseen by the lilac man keeping his head down to the ground, Ouji couldn’t help smiling widely at the horrified expressions on the faces of his guests. It had taken time and effort to turn the prideful Kotetsu sword so obedient, but the result more than paid off.
“Servant, hm? You can do better. That’s not your title, is it?”
Squeezing his eyes shut to keep the stinging tears of shame away, or risk even more humiliation in front of his brother, no matter how strange he’d become, Hachisuka swallowed tightly before speaking, keeping his voice as steady as he could.
“This… your wife begs for your forgiveness. I will be better, I swear.”
His answer came in another sharp snap of the fingers, wordlessly permitting him to stand up and return to his place on the left side of the prince’s seat, seaglass eyes glued to the floor, mortified.
“Now that my wife has thoroughly embarrassed us all, let us hear whatever excuse the expedition team has for their early return. If it’s anything but an early victory, I’ll have you all flogged for wasting my time.”
That snapped the uncomfortable and lost team back to their senses from trying to peer around in awe.
They had to explain their situation somehow, but it’d be difficult when even they themselves did not know how they’d ended up there.
“Your… your highness”, Hasebe began, hoping it was the right title, considering Hachisuka had called him a prince a moment ago, “We are the first expedition team, returning from 1582. It seems there was a mistake somewhere along the way, and we have gone off course from our own home. We belong to a different… place.”
Listening with great interest, the prince considered the words carefully. He felt annoyed at the lack of his own, reliable old Hasebe to convene with, in face of a stranger inhabiting his loyal servant’s skin.
He had sent some swords to Honnoji, it was true, including Hasebe leading the team, but… this was certainly not the team as he’d assigned it. And much too early, too. It made sense, what the strangers were saying, but also absolutely none of it made sense.
“You are telling me that there is another sage? When I am the sage? I am owed the seat of the imperial sage, there are no others. Unless you are the swords of my grandfather, there will be no others.”
Glancing at his teammates in worry, Hasebe cleared his throat. “...We did not think so either, but it seems there has to be at least some other one, or we would not exist. Our sage is a young woman, and our citadel is small and homely. Hardly a threat to a man like you, I’m sure.”
Hasebe knew nothing if not how to please a master, slipping right back into that role in front of a man clearly obsessed with his own self-image. He could only hope the rest of the team was as smart and followed his example.
“A woman? A woman is undermining my position?” Ouji suddenly stood up in anger, the low table in front of him crashing over, spilling tea across the dais and down to the second step.
Everyone around them clearly flinched at the outburst, but nobody dared to try to step in to diffuse the situation. But that meant that all of the man’s anger was squarely fixated on the poor, confused team stood before him.
“They’re coming after my rightful place? With some stupid girl? Haven’t I been in this cursed little jail for long enough?”, the man raged, picking up the teapot he’d just upended and tossing it with all his strength at the imposter wearing his Hasebe’s face. The shattering sound was satisfying, doing at least something to calm his nerves. But it clearly wasn’t enough.
Snapping his fingers again, it was Hachisuka who had the misfortune of being summoned, biting his teeth. It was his duty now that Hasebe was gone, to be the first at hand when his master was in one of his moods.
He was backhanded handsomely for his role, throwing him off balance unlike it usually might have, stumbling back a bit to not to fall over, before retreating those few steps back to his spot by the throne, trying not to show how much it hurt. But that was what Ouji wanted. He wanted everyone to hurt as much as he was hurting.
This was the only thing he was here in this god forsaken realm for. And some lowly, despicable woman was encroaching on his rightful title as the sage.
As he seethed, the rest of the court was finally moving, everyone following the walls without ever turning their backs on him, as they rotated to be out of his line of sight. It was clearly well-practiced. Which made the lost team feel even more in danger. Because they definitely did not know how to proceed, and that was making them all restless.
“You! To my study, right now. The rest of you, scram. I’ll deal with you later, stupid mutts”, Ouji pointed an accusatory finger at Hasebe, before storming off through the back of the hall, leaving everyone to pick up his mess. Which they did calmly, like it was a daily occurrence.
Dressed just as opulently as the other men, Souza was there to bring a cool cloth for Hachisuka to press against his cheek, two other swords dressed the same beginning to pick up shards of the teapot from the floor, while others righted the table, searching it for signs of damage.
Hasebe, stood dumbly and still dripping tea leaves from his chest, cast around for some help. He had no idea how to find the threatened study.
And the rest were bewildered on where on earth they were to ‘scram’ to.
“Let me take you, since you clearly don’t know…”, Souza offered kindly, having left Hachisuka in favor of being useful. He had dealt with Hasebe in the past, so this one couldn’t be much different from the one he knew.
Bowing his head as a goodbye to his teammates, Hasebe accepted the help, following the ethereal wisp to the back of the hall where the master had exited before.
That left the rest of the team simply stood there, lost even more now than they were before.
“Is… is he always like this?”, Nagasone tried to ask an idle Himetsuru as he passed, carrying the pieces of the teapot. Blinking in surprise, the sword stopped in his tracks, considering his answer.
“Yes, this is an almost daily occurrence. He gets mad over something, breaks things, and then later one of us dies.”
At the sight of the wide eyes and terrified face, Himetsuru suddenly realized something.
“Oh, you really aren’t from here, huh. You’ve seen this before–, I mean, our… our you has seen it”, he attempted to parse his words together in a way that didn't hurt his head.
“Dies?!”, Nagasone said a little too loudly, earning alarmed looks from his friends that weren’t privy to the context of it.
“Yes, or close to it. He knows he can always resummon us, so he doesn’t really care if we die or not. It’s just his way of venting his anger. You get used to it soon. Today might be a long death sort of day, if he’s that angry…”
Reeling from the news, it now made a lot more sense why everyone seemed so quiet when they came. And why Hachisuka had–...
But now that the master was gone, the court was getting livelier again. Everyone was more or less curious about the group, rarely if ever having seen even their own realm’s swords from the lower court. Yagen especially was completely unknown to them, since he never left for missions, or the lower court wouldn’t have a medic at hand.
“So… everyone dresses like that, over where you're from?” Himetsuru asked, a slight tinge of envy to his gaze as he scanned the group. It wasn't that he hated the getup, but sometimes it did get tiring to dress up like a little doll to appease one man's childish ego.
“I could ask the same of you. I can't understand why he'd have sword warriors dressed like court ladies…”, Nagasone huffed, though adding a very quick “no offense” at the look on the beautiful man's face.
“We're not exactly doing this for fun. The prince wants to pretend he's not surrounded by men at all times, considering how he has… hmm, you don't need to know that much. But we're something less than men. Not women, mind you, he hates them just as much, but a secret third thing. Just décor, never to be used in battle.”
Glancing over to where Hachisuka was standing, Nagasone felt a pang of pain in his heart. His prideful brother, humiliated like that, reduced to a wife for a horrible tyrant.
It made him feel twice as much like he'd need to truly appreciate his own version at home if they ever got to return. He'd take the attitude and nagging over the defeated and miserable one he could now see.
Though it seemed Hachisuka had collected himself now, ordering the others around as they restored the throne to as it had been. He was natural at it, at least.
“May I have your attention? Or would you rather I leave you to stare at him in peace…?”, Himetsuru asked with a small tinge of frustration in his voice. He was still holding the shards of the teapot, and very much had something to do.
“He's a taken man, I wouldn't drool too visibly."
Blinking at the words, Nagasone felt his cheeks heat up from embarrassment.
“I got that impression, yeah…”
"Then I'll be on my way. You can bother the guards if you must. They've got nothing better to do, anyway.”
With that, Himetsuru left him standing there, just as confused as he had been before their exchange.
Regrouping with his team, he felt a bit unsure what to bring up first. Everything about this experience was mind boggling in its absurdity. Another sage? A palace? Copies of the same sword existing at the same time? And what was worse, was that there was no clear way for them to return home, when their apparatus refused to budge. He couldn’t imagine having to stay here forever, and not see his brothers again, or the rest of the Shinsengumi.
Well, Hachisuka did exist here, but this one was… difficult to accept. Dressed like that, behaving demure and being humiliated for fun, it just wasn’t right. This wasn’t how Hachisuka was meant to be. The prideful Kotetsu masterpiece he knew would never have become anyone’s ‘wife’ even if it killed him.
“You should go talk to him, if you’re that curious,” Yagen mentioned from next to Nagasone, startling the man out of his thoughts. He’d been staring again… But it was just so hard to stop, when the Hachisuka he saw was so… wrong.
“I don’t think he wants that. Let’s just focus on getting back,” Nagasone sighed, turning his attention back to the group, as they discussed possible methods of return.
They could go to another time, and try return again, and see if that worked, but… they weren’t entirely sure how to jump back in time without a direct command from their sage. She was the one that made the apparatus work, and they couldn’t even fathom how to put in a command of their own, especially without the main piece. These pieces they had were made exclusively for returning…
“We could… and this is a big maybe, but we could ask this sage to command it for us,” Yagen thought out loud, unsure even himself how that’d go, considering what the man seemed to be like at the slightest slight against him. They had Hasebe of course, who was a master at pleasing egotistical tyrants with his natural charm, but they couldn’t all count on him to do it alone. And who knows, maybe having the prince send them back in time might tie them forever to this place!
So that was the last option, just for that little possibility. They’d have to trust in Hasebe now, wherever he was, to talk to the prince for them.
—--------
The hallway was just as obnoxiously extravagant as the hall had been. Murals and wall-hangings everywhere, marble and gold. Even Souza walking before him was opulently dressed, matching the surroundings perfectly.
“Any words of advice?” Hasebe spoke up with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose nervously. He did not like that he had been summoned by himself, and the rest of his team left in the hall. He’d much have preferred having all of them present. But he knew men like this, he could survive pleasing another.
“...Don’t make him mad? Easier said than done, I guess,” Souza shrugged a silk-clad shoulder, the trinkets in his hair giving a small chime at the movement, “you’re not our Hasebe, that’s obvious, but I’m sure you’re just as obnoxiously yourself as you’ve always been, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to play into the role. Once a dog, always a dog.”
Hasebe couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at the passive aggressive tone in Souza’s voice. Yes, they had never been the best of friends, and ending up as the trophy of yet another violent ruler clearly couldn’t have done him good, but Hasebe still expected at least a small sense of comradery in such a pressing situation.
“Would it hurt you to be a bit more courteous?” the brunet huffed, very much disliking the feeling of sinking back into those times, and those roles he’d already thought left behind.
“With you? This is it,” Souza looked at him with a completely neutral expression, before ascending a set of stairs and coming to a stop.
He knocked on the big pair of doors to the right, and once there was an acknowledging sound from inside, he pushed them open for Hasebe to step through, before closing them behind him as if to lock him inside with the dragon.
“Your highness,” Hasebe immediately bowed deep, which seemed to please the prince, as he sat on a red velvet chaise, hanging his head in his hands like a child, squeezing his hair in frustration, to the point it almost upset the crown pinned to the root of his ponytail.
“A woman, you said? ‘Small and homely’ my ass, a woman is coming after my throne and she’s sent you to spy on me, hasn’t she? Haven’t I suffered enough?!” Ouji exploded with rage, throwing a book at Hasebe, which the sword took without a flinch, even as the edge of it hit him painfully in the shoulder.
“I swear to you, your highness, that we’re not here for any such thing. We simply want to go home, where we belong. I’m sure your own team, and your… own Hasebe will be returning soon too. Unless…”, the man quieted at the sudden thought of the possibility that the two teams had been mixed up by some cosmic mistake and the prince’s own team had ended up at their citadel instead. Just imagining how swords used to this sort of a palace setting, might react to seeing the homely little place they called home.
“You truly are Heshikiri Hasebe, huh… I can see why he liked you,” came a small sigh after quite a long silence, as the young man sitting there examined the sword with his golden eyes.
Hasebe felt uncomfortable under the stare, almost as if he was being burnt by those eyes. And he could somehow tell just who the prince had meant, by ‘he’ .
“Would it be possible to try… contacting our citadel? I’ve seen our sage call people on a… how do I describe it, it’s a glowing screen you can touch?” Hasebe tried to explain what he meant in the clearest way possible, unsure if all sages had similar means of communication.
“...The interface is useless here. I can barely contact my family, let alone anyone else in this cursed space. It’s a glorified security camera,” Ouji waved his hand towards the writing desk at the other end of the room. On the desk stood a familiar screen Hasebe had seen used multiple times, though this one was framed with a thick, antique wooden frame, which made the modern electronics of the thing look absurdly out of place.
“But we can try… I’d love to see this bitch that’s encroaching on my position”, he finally decided, standing up from his seat and shuffling over to the desk, motioning over the screen with his hand to activate it. The electronic blue glow of it illuminated the golden embroidery and beadwork on the prince’s coat, making it sparkle. The man seemed like he might have enjoyed getting his hands on glitter, if he knew of it, Hasebe couldn’t help thinking.
To be honest, Ouji hadn’t really ever needed the more social functions of the screen before. He avoided speaking to his family, the cursed reason he even was locked in this prison realm, and he certainly did not make many friends with his personality. So who on earth would he ever have called?
But there, underneath the functions he usually used, the two found themselves a small icon of a phone.
Absurd. And endlessly terrifying to the young prince. Because this opened up possibilities he had never wanted to consider. Like the existence of agencies that might have needed his attention, or even worse, the possibility of other sages indeed existing.
Hovering his hand just over the icon, Ouji thought long and hard about this. He was scared. Genuinely scared. And that made him angry. He didn’t want to be scared of something so small, and anger was the only emotion he had ever allowed himself to feel. So now he felt that, and twice as much!
Roaring with frustration, the prince slammed his hand over the icon, opening up a small list of empty slots. Clearly meant for holding names and details.
“Your highness—”, Hasebe held his hands up placatingly, clearly seeing just how dangerous it might be to be in the same room as the livid prince, if Hachisuka simply making a mistake had caused such a scene, “may I attempt it? I’ve seen it done before.”
And to his surprise, Ouji allowed him to, simply storming off to pour himself some wine. That’d calm his nerves. Drinking always helped…
As he downed his chalice of wine, Hasebe worked on trying to figure out how to reach his home and his own sage, without taking too long and risking drawing the ire of the prince any further.
He simply searched by her name, but nothing came up. Then he searched by the citadel’s name. Nothing, again.
The last chance he had was to input the coordinates from the time travel apparatus… And it finally worked! In front of him were all the public records of his home, the location, name and number of it all, next to a portrait of the sage and her name.
“I’ve found it! Would it be alright to call her and let her know the situation?”, Hasebe turned around to look at the prince as he stood there pouring himself another drink.
Ouji thought about it, before huffing something and making his way back to the desk.
“Call her. I want to see the conniving bitch myself.”
Not wanting to upset the man by defending his master’s honor, Hasebe simply entered the call, stepping away from the screen as it blinked a few times, and then opened to a view of the office the sword knew well. Just seeing it now made his heart feel lighter. And in the office, sat their own sage, confused and looking a bit frazzled. Most likely she had been too busy with the busy job of running a citadel, and forgotten to eat again… It made Hasebe want to chastise her, but that’d have been unbecoming of him in front of another person. That could wait until they were all safely home, and away from this strange realm.
“Hello? Ah– Heshikiri!”, she seemed completely stunned by the view, though smiling slightly at the familiar figure. But what was not familiar was the absolutely pissed off short man next to him. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but he was wearing the robes of a king? Was Hasebe calling her from the past? It was such a strange thought that she couldn’t help laughing.
Which was a mistake. Hasebe immediately motioned for her to stop, as discreetly as he could, but the damage was already done. Ouji had been laughed at. And he would not stand for that.
“Silence! If you’re the fucking bitch trying to take my throne from me, I will come through this goddamn screen and smite you with my own hands. This title is mine, and mine alone!” Ouji roared, slamming his fists down on the table in anger.
That shut her up very fast, staring at her screen in alarm.
“O-of course, what his highness wants to know, is how on earth there could be two sword sages…when we were under the impression there could only be one”, Hasebe tried to mediate, attempting to be as calming and subservient as an attendant could.
It seemed to work, as Ouji had stopped gritting his teeth in anger, and simply focused on scowling at the woman on the screen. He seemed much more like a petulant kid now than he had in the hall. It made Hasebe wonder just how old the little prince really was.
“Oh! There’s a few, actually. We’re all in this together, from various places around the world, everyone working with their own tsukumogami to protect their own local history. It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” she beamed, immediately turning away to pull out a book or two from the shelf next to the desk, trying to speedily leaf them through for the bits she needed to reference.
“There’s one in most countries that have the concept of tsukumogami in their culture, by whatever name that might be. I’ve spoken to a lot of them like this.”
Next to Hasebe, Ouji had brought his hand up to his chin, deep in thought. And then suddenly, without waiting for her to finish speaking, he spoke over her, his anger having clearly subsided a bit.
“...My grandfather is the imperial head sage, and I am the next to take his role. Once I am freed from this prison, I will ensure no one else shall play the role but me. There will be only one sage, and it’ll be me,” he spoke with authority, his delicate brow furrowed.
“If I were you, I’d give up on any ambitions you have about this job, and retreat into being a good wife. Women shouldn’t work.”
On the other end of the line, the woman was stunned into silence. She’d faced mean people before, but this man was proving to be a very different sort of mean.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or what your issue is, but—”, she began with an annoyed edge to her words, but Hasebe was quick to intervene, knowing full well there would be trouble if Ouji lost his head now.
“Please—! Whatever issue there is, I’d like to…”, the brunet began, before remembering his manners, and seeking to appease the man’s ego first and foremost, as he bowed to the prince. “May I speak, your highness?”
Sighing, Ouji simply shrugged his shoulders dismissively. It was permission enough for Hasebe.
“It seems there has been a mistake. Our return from battle ended up placing us here instead of home, and we cannot get the apparatus to recalibrate. It keeps simply pointing that we are in the right place. Would you please summon us out to another time, so we may try and see if that’ll help? We don’t have very many options here, and we’re not sure what might happen when the real occupants re—”, his words were cut off by the lady sage raising her hand to stop him.
“They won’t return anytime soon. Because I have them here right now.”
Both Hasebe and Ouji could only stare dumbly at her now.
“I want to see him. My Heshikiri Hasebe. Right now,” Ouji demanded, narrowing his eyes at the woman. It was an order, and she was not reacting to it in the appropriate manner, or with the necessary urgency.
“Alright alright—,” she huffed, standing up from her desk and moving to the door of her office, before talking to someone outside the door for a moment. After that, they all simply stood in silence, until there was the muffled sound of running, and a very differently dressed Heshikiri Hasebe entered the office, hurrying over to the screen.
“My lord! Oh… my lord, I was so worried,” the second Heshikiri spoke up with a tremor in his voice. It seemed to soothe Ouji too, who finally released the breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. His loyal dog was finally here. Preferably he’d have been right by his master’s side, instead of this imposter, but it seemed every Heshikiri Hasebe was the same to an extent. Good, he liked that. He knew he’d chosen his attendant for a reason.
“Good. Now send him back to me. I will release this team to you, and you will quit your job for good as a thank you,” the prince said, clapping his hands together once to seal the deal.
On the other end, she simply rolled her eyes as discreetly as she could, before glancing over to the Hasebe on her side.
“How do we get you guys back home, huh?”
“I suggest we are both sent back to 1582 and re-invited back home. If everything goes right, that should right that wrong by my logic”, the sword standing next to Ouji explained his plan, to which both of the sages seemed to agree.
It’d be the best option they had, and at this point in time, they were all getting antsy about returning to their respective citadels.
“Alright… but if it does not work, please call me again as soon as possible. I want my doctor back,” she half-joked. Next to her, Ouji’s loyal attendant bowed deeply as a goodbye to his lord, before the feed was cut.
“... Let’s get you home,” the young man spoke surprisingly quietly, undoubtedly frazzled from seeing his own attendant at the mercy of others. And said attendant seemed to be truly devoted to him, with how earnest his joy of seeing Ouji on the call had been. It was almost terrifying to see, for Hasebe as he was now. To think that in another universe, he would have ended up like that. He’d sworn to never be anyone’s dog again.
Pushing open the doors to the hallway again, Ouji marched down it with purpose in his steps, Hasebe following suit.
On their way, they ran into Souza again, who had been standing there waiting for Hasebe to return. He was surprised to see the prince coming too, immediately bowing to him as was necessary.
“You. Bring the rest of them to the war room,” Ouji ordered as he passed the dainty man, who took the order with another bow before hurrying off towards the hall on his mission.
The ‘war room’ truly did fit its name, the center of the room taken up by an old fashioned massive table with a map unfurled on top of it, and small figurines scattered across it. It felt like it was meant for commanding armies, not small six-member units…
On the other wall, opposite a row of windows, were rolls and rolls of old maps, stored by the area, and then by year. It was obvious every big battle was here, just in order to prepare for everything. Hasebe felt impressed by the dedication to the craft. It just further solidified that this truly was the imperial head sage in training. Only the royal family would need someone so well-prepared.
Soon enough, the rest of the lost team were escorted to the room, all of them taking their turns to be impressed by the surroundings.
“His highness and our lady have come to a plan,” Hasebe began as was his habit, before remembering his place and looking to Ouji to take the stand for himself. But it seemed Ouji did not want it, simply nodding for him to go on.
“We… we are going to go back to 1582, and attempt to navigate back home. It’ll probably work best if we go exactly where we arrived before, hopefully whatever gateways connect these places will work better that way. Everyone still remember where we came though?”
Hasebe’s words were met with nods and agreements, which made the unit leader glad to be in charge of them. If it had been almost any other swords, this might have taken a terrible turn just with one misplaced word out of their mouths.
“Thank you. Your highness, we are ready for your word,” the brunet turned to face the sage, nodding at him, who then took the reins and gathered the swords around the strategy table, using a pointer to push a figurine to a determined place on the map.
“You will arrive here, as my own team did. If you see them, make sure to have them return exactly here. Only then, you are free to go wherever it is you must. My team is the priority,” the prince demanded, giving the table a loud thwack with the pointer to emphasize his point.
Everyone around the table nodded solemnly. It was not in their best interest to say a word against the plan now.
“I have set the coordinates and time. You will now go to the cove you came from, and enter the portal. I will not have mercy on you if you return to me again, is that understood?” he demanded, earning another round of nods and silent promises.
With that, Ouji left the room with a swish of his embroidered cape, everyone following behind him in single file all the way to the hall they had been brought to in the first place. Upon seeing their prince arrive, everyone hurried to their places, bowing to him in unison.
Then Ouji took his place at the throne once more, settling down with no hurry, motioning for a sword to the side to bring him tea. How they knew what to do from just a wave, was beyond the team.
“It has been interesting to meet you, and I am sure there would be plenty of things to learn from this, but you have polluted my court long enough now. I want back what is mine, and if they know what is good for them, they will return,” the black haired youth addressed them, as they stood before the throne, before waving his hand.
“Guards. Show these men out of my court. I’d rather never see them again.”
Approaching from where they had been stood by the door, Tonbokiri and Nihongou came to the side of the team, motioning for the doors.
The team took one last bow as a sign of respect to the odd prince, before following the guards out of the doors and into the fresh spring air, as it was starting to redden at the horizon. Now that they could chance a look around, it was clear that the well-maintained gardens were gorgeous beyond imagination, every tree in bloom despite the time of year it seemed to be.
“Seeing your clothes, I kind of wanna get lost myself, now,” Nihongou huffed in amusement as they walked down the courtyard path, eyeing the getup of the visitors.
“You’re not that badly dressed… wouldn’t wanna see you in one of their dresses though, if that’s an option,” Nagasone laughed with him.
The guards were dressed in just as expensive fabrics of course, but much less delicate and floral. Their embroidery was still heavy and excessive, bordering on gaudy, but then again, everything about the place was just that.
At least they had pants to wear…
The gates opened for them like clockwork, and then they were down the hilly path again, as if nothing had happened. The two spears accompanying them took them all the way down to the small cove flanked by trees, where the shrine stood waiting.
“You know how to do this, right? We don’t need to show you?” Tonbokiri asked cautiously, nodding towards the mechanism on top of the shrine table.
“It’s not that different from home, I doubt much can go wrong,” Yagen sighed, looking at the mechanism carefully. It was familiar enough, nothing much to worry about.
“But–... please stay here for a moment, though. Just in case we do return. I’d rather not walk back to the palace hall on my own, if I can help it,” Hasebe requested, which the two spears agreed to. They’d wait an hour, and see which team returned.
Everyone could only hope it was the right one.
Calibrating their time travel gear, the six swords closed their eyes and blinked out of existence with the bright flash of light.
—--------
“Oh thank GOD you’re home—!” Kasen was the first to welcome them back, almost beyond himself. The strangely dressed strangers had made a mess of the week’s routine, and their sage had become so absorbed in her books following the departure of the intruding team that it had been impossible to get a word’s explanation from her on what had happened.
“Oh, I am fully agreeing with you, thank god indeed,” Heshikiri sighed out loud, having to sit down on the familiar veranda or he might faint from the relief. The worst case scenario of having had to go back to the prince’s court would return to haunt his nightmares for months to come.
As everyone gathered around to interrogate them, Nagasone slipped away from the group in order to put his roiling thoughts at ease. He needed to see Hachisuka. Make sure he was fine. Of course he was, but Nagasone couldn’t stop thinking about the other Hachisuka he’d met. Dressed like a doll and titled another man’s ‘wife’. Hurt and humiliated. Degraded.
And finally he found his brother, almost running into him, as the other was hurrying to come see the commotion in the yard. Catching Hachisuka into his arms with ease, Nagasone immediately buried his face into his hair and squeezed him so tight that Hachisuka had to kick him in the shin to be released.
“Please yell at me,” the older brother begged, to which Hachisuka smacked away his hand and hissed at him in embarrassment over having been hugged so publicly.
“Why would I yell at you? Obviously it’s the real you, and not the weird imposter!” Hachisuka huffed, arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m so glad to see you, you have no idea,” Nagasone laughed, capturing his brother in another hug that he surprisingly didn’t fight against, secretly just as relieved to see the right one return to him like this. Maybe later he’d tell him about just how things had been when they were gone.
Because oh boy, had they both a lot to talk about.
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