[PoT] On The Edge (Sanada, Yukimura & Kirihara, PG)
Title: On The Edge
Rating: PG
Characters: Sanada, Kirihara, Yukimura
Notes: Military AU. I've been reading A Song Of Ice and Fire again lately, if that helps explain anything (though the connection is extremely loose). Written for challenge #2 on tenipuri_time, so obviously, pretty rough.
Akaya had never been an easy one to deal with. He was not, Sanada thought, suited for military life. Being a skilled fighter was one thing, but his undisciplined fierceness would have made him more at home in a street brawl.
He'd expected some form of trouble from the boy the moment Yukimura to gave the order to decamp and retreat across the river and, true to form, he found them in the officer's tent, finalising plans while the encampment was folded up and packed away around them. He'd stormed in, brushed aside guards, all fire and determination.
"Hey, General," he growled in Yukimura's direction, "what the hell's going on?"
Around the enclosed space, men's hands twitched, wishing for swords.
"Exactly what appears to be going on," Yukimura told him, cool and unruffled. "I hope you have some explanation for your presence here. You should be overseeing the loading of the wagons."
"You're gonna throw away our advantage."
"That's what you think, is it," Yukimura murmured, a hand reaching out to stop Jackal starting forward without even turning to look at him. "When you are me, of course, welcome to make any decision that pleases you. Until then -- and that includes right now, as I do not believe you have turned into me during the night -- you will follow the decisions I make."
"There's no need to go back. Ain't far, we can fight them, we can win easy. We go back, they've got time to get ready, they can pick where to fight us, we--"
"Akaya," Sanada growled. "Careful."
"Shut up," Akaya snapped back, looking and sounding like the petulant sixteen year old he was. "You're just a bunch of cautious old men. So winter's coming, so what."
Yukimura's eyes slid across to Sanada, who nodded sharply, stepped forward; Akaya didn't flinch away from the flat of his hand, and Sanada could feel the sting of the impact. Akaya stumbled, glared up at him, eyes furious.
"Tell me that again after you've seen what winter is really like here," Yukimura told him. "Akaya. I am looking after you and training you as a kindness to your father, but my patience is not without limits."
Almost no-one in the tent missed the edge to Yukimura's words, a freshly-sharpened blade ready to be unsheathed at any moment. Sanada wondered if Akaya did, or if he understood, somewhere under the brattishness and the attitude. He subsided a little, anyway, his face still sulky and dark but more quietly so, a little further from exploding into violence.
"One day," he muttered. "One day. You'll see. I can be a better commander than you, better than him," a nod at Sanada, "better than Lord Tezuka and whoever. I'll be the best."
"Mebbe true," Niou put in from a corner. Sanada hadn't even noticed him, but there he was, slouched as ever; waiting to speak to Yanagi, perhaps, or just minding other people's business for them. "But you better make sure you survive that long in the first place if you wanna be so great, kid."
"My brother made a mistake in sending Akaya here," Sanada told Yukimura later, once they were alone. "I will speak to him."
"No. I think he won't be a bad soldier in the end, but he needs shaping. I will take great pleasure in making something of him."
"He's spoiled, and he's liable to ignore orders."
Yukimura smiled, poison-sweet. "These things can and will be fixed."
"I don't trust him not to stab you in your sleep."
"Ah, yes. That is a rather uncharitable way to speak of your nephew, but he does rather want my cloak and sword, I think. Honestly though, Genichirou... if I were to be killed by him as he is now then I wouldn't be fit to lead anyway. Worry a little less."
Sanada shook his head slightly, still frowning. There was Akaya, who was a little spoiled, a little inexperienced, prone to speak his mind when he shouldn't; and Sanada had a reluctant fondness for that side of him, although admitting it out loud would be another thing entirely. He'd watched him grow up, after all, until he left to serve Yukimura. But then there was something deeper and darker that he didn't recognise; it was hard not to remember the look in Akaya's eyes, the quirk of his lips as he looked at them, hinting at something unknown and terrible. The feeling of standing near the edge of a precipice in pitch blackness, not being able to tell if you were one step away from the edge or ten, or how far down it would be if you fell.
"I have to worry," he told Yukimura flatly.
"I suppose it is your job. Well, you do yours and I'll do mine. I'm not you, so I'm not worried." Yukimura's smile this time was more affectionate. "I'll deal with him."
Rating: PG
Characters: Sanada, Kirihara, Yukimura
Notes: Military AU. I've been reading A Song Of Ice and Fire again lately, if that helps explain anything (though the connection is extremely loose). Written for challenge #2 on tenipuri_time, so obviously, pretty rough.
Akaya had never been an easy one to deal with. He was not, Sanada thought, suited for military life. Being a skilled fighter was one thing, but his undisciplined fierceness would have made him more at home in a street brawl.
He'd expected some form of trouble from the boy the moment Yukimura to gave the order to decamp and retreat across the river and, true to form, he found them in the officer's tent, finalising plans while the encampment was folded up and packed away around them. He'd stormed in, brushed aside guards, all fire and determination.
"Hey, General," he growled in Yukimura's direction, "what the hell's going on?"
Around the enclosed space, men's hands twitched, wishing for swords.
"Exactly what appears to be going on," Yukimura told him, cool and unruffled. "I hope you have some explanation for your presence here. You should be overseeing the loading of the wagons."
"You're gonna throw away our advantage."
"That's what you think, is it," Yukimura murmured, a hand reaching out to stop Jackal starting forward without even turning to look at him. "When you are me, of course, welcome to make any decision that pleases you. Until then -- and that includes right now, as I do not believe you have turned into me during the night -- you will follow the decisions I make."
"There's no need to go back. Ain't far, we can fight them, we can win easy. We go back, they've got time to get ready, they can pick where to fight us, we--"
"Akaya," Sanada growled. "Careful."
"Shut up," Akaya snapped back, looking and sounding like the petulant sixteen year old he was. "You're just a bunch of cautious old men. So winter's coming, so what."
Yukimura's eyes slid across to Sanada, who nodded sharply, stepped forward; Akaya didn't flinch away from the flat of his hand, and Sanada could feel the sting of the impact. Akaya stumbled, glared up at him, eyes furious.
"Tell me that again after you've seen what winter is really like here," Yukimura told him. "Akaya. I am looking after you and training you as a kindness to your father, but my patience is not without limits."
Almost no-one in the tent missed the edge to Yukimura's words, a freshly-sharpened blade ready to be unsheathed at any moment. Sanada wondered if Akaya did, or if he understood, somewhere under the brattishness and the attitude. He subsided a little, anyway, his face still sulky and dark but more quietly so, a little further from exploding into violence.
"One day," he muttered. "One day. You'll see. I can be a better commander than you, better than him," a nod at Sanada, "better than Lord Tezuka and whoever. I'll be the best."
"Mebbe true," Niou put in from a corner. Sanada hadn't even noticed him, but there he was, slouched as ever; waiting to speak to Yanagi, perhaps, or just minding other people's business for them. "But you better make sure you survive that long in the first place if you wanna be so great, kid."
"My brother made a mistake in sending Akaya here," Sanada told Yukimura later, once they were alone. "I will speak to him."
"No. I think he won't be a bad soldier in the end, but he needs shaping. I will take great pleasure in making something of him."
"He's spoiled, and he's liable to ignore orders."
Yukimura smiled, poison-sweet. "These things can and will be fixed."
"I don't trust him not to stab you in your sleep."
"Ah, yes. That is a rather uncharitable way to speak of your nephew, but he does rather want my cloak and sword, I think. Honestly though, Genichirou... if I were to be killed by him as he is now then I wouldn't be fit to lead anyway. Worry a little less."
Sanada shook his head slightly, still frowning. There was Akaya, who was a little spoiled, a little inexperienced, prone to speak his mind when he shouldn't; and Sanada had a reluctant fondness for that side of him, although admitting it out loud would be another thing entirely. He'd watched him grow up, after all, until he left to serve Yukimura. But then there was something deeper and darker that he didn't recognise; it was hard not to remember the look in Akaya's eyes, the quirk of his lips as he looked at them, hinting at something unknown and terrible. The feeling of standing near the edge of a precipice in pitch blackness, not being able to tell if you were one step away from the edge or ten, or how far down it would be if you fell.
"I have to worry," he told Yukimura flatly.
"I suppose it is your job. Well, you do yours and I'll do mine. I'm not you, so I'm not worried." Yukimura's smile this time was more affectionate. "I'll deal with him."