[FIC] promise of that distant day. (5th remix)
Whoo another one. Still have no idea what I am doing, but there we go. Reincarnated!Date and immortal!Koujurou, finally reuniting properly in this bit. The previous part is located here, and I really think I should make a chapter index for this when... I feel like it. >_>;
vii. arrival of the day of that distant promise.
People once said that blood was the gold of the soul, the silver of the will. It is known as an earthly memory, the things stored in there passed down from one life to the next, from the older to the younger generation. Nobody can truly forget where they come from and where their roots lay, even if they go from one life to the next and the cycle continues without pause.
Koujurou believed that-he really believed that, because that was the only reason as to why this was even happening. Even if that belief had waned over the years to be replaced by weariness and exhaustion and the never ending question of how much longer. How much longer did he have to wait before he could finally fulfil the promise he made? So many years had passed, and so many times was he on the verge of simply wanting to give up and let himself die as he rightfully should have after the death of his lord and master so long ago.
But now here he was, the answer right before his eyes and even though Koujurou has pictured the scene of this moment for so many times, nothing manages to come out from him. All he can do is to stare, eyes wide in disbelief as he looks at that face, the eyepatch (it looked so wrong, so wrong because that eyepatch was so wrong and he wasn’t sick at all-) and that lone blue eye that stares back at him. He can see the differences between this boy and the man he should be, but at the same time he can also see the similarities and the soul that shone through that eye. It’s that same soul, that same spirit-the very thing he has been searching for all these years.
He wants to speak, to try and say something, but before he can even open his mouth the boy starts first-and the word he says instantly sends the world crashing on his shoulders.
“…Koujurou.”
The boy knows. He knows.
It takes almost everything inside him to stop himself from stumbling onto the ground as his knees threaten buckle into themselves, and Koujurou can feel the weight of five centuries finally lifting away from him. He takes a step forward, stepping closer to the boy, so many emotions running through him that he’s caught up in all of it and it renders him unable to say anything at all. Even if he’s spent countless years over this, even if he’s pictured the moment of this instant over and over in his head-he’s still speechless, still at a loss on what to do or to say. Was this real? Is this a dream? After all these years, the whole instant just suddenly feels so surreal.
The boy stares at him, uncertainty crossing his features now-wondering if he’s imagining this too, if this is a trick or his mind or it’s just something he shouldn’t have done. He stands his ground still, but Koujurou can all too easily spot the hesitation that flickers on his face. So many years, and some things never change and still remain the same in his eyes.
Still the same.
This was still the same lord he had served.
His knees finally give out, and Koujurou goes onto his knees (much to the wide-eyed shock from the boy who backed away by a few steps). He barely registers the hesitant start that comes from the teenager as he lowers his head and swallows his tongue and finally manages to say out the one thing that he can say. The only thing he can say.
“Masamune-sama.”
viii. fulfilment of the promise of that distant day.
The name (Koujurou, a name that feels so natural to speak of even though he hasn’t said it at all) falls out from his lips before he can stop himself, and for a moment Kisei wonders if he had said something wrong-the abrupt silence that follows after him is nothing short of dreadful, full of unspoken questions and answers. Is this what he had been searching for-is this the person who has been calling him all this time? He doesn’t know, and Kisei doesn’t dare to ask; breaking the silence here and now seems to be a bad idea now, especially considering how the man was seemingly acting. Perhaps… maybe…
Then he falls onto his knees and hands and Kisei finds himself taken aback by that move, not quite sure what to do or what to say. He attempts to say something (what exactly that something was supposed to be, he has no idea) but then the man says that one name and everything stops in his head.
Masamune-sama.
A name, but that’s all it takes for everything else to start crashing into his mind. His heart stops, and he feels his blood freezing-not in fear, but at the sudden surge of everything that comes into him. Things that he should have had, things that he had lost over and over again through the many years and lives he’s lived in. Now it all returns to him, everything settling right where it should be as the confusion clears and for the first time in his life Kisei can feel the clarity in his mind.
It’s him. That’s him-he’s Masamune, and this man before him has been waiting all these years, never letting death to grasp at him even once as he waits for this moment, this very instant. In order to fulfil the promise made between them as he lay dying in the arms of the man he trusted and relied on the most. He remembers it now, remembers it as clear as day; the last memory of his life, a memory he should have kept but had instead lay forgotten until now.
Five hundred years, and now they’re finally together again.
Five hundred years.
The weight of that realization weighs down onto him, crashing against his back before he even notices it and Kisei stumbles forward as well, almost to his knees if it wasn’t for the fact that Koujurou is before him. Koujurou, his loyal Right Eye, his trusted retainer. Koujurou, who was still living and alive and waiting for him even after all this time.
Koujurou, who he finally sees once more with his left eye.
Koujurou, who will finally let him see the world again as his right eye.
“Koujurou,” he manages out, voice rasping and croaking and on the verge of breaking because it’s been so long, so very long and five hundred years too late and he’s been here all this time waiting for him-
-he practically falls onto the elder man now, a whole ball of emotions jumbling in his mind as he puts his arms around him and buries his head into the crook of that shoulder, the name lurching out from him once more in a voice that held so many feelings at the same time.
“Koujurou.”
Koujurou, Koujurou was finally here again. With him. His right eye, back to his side after these five hundred years. It’s so surreal and he still wonders if this is all a dream, but the weight and solidity of Koujurou against him makes this feel so much more real. He’s here. He’s back. Koujurou’s back.
They’re finally together again.
vii. arrival of the day of that distant promise.
People once said that blood was the gold of the soul, the silver of the will. It is known as an earthly memory, the things stored in there passed down from one life to the next, from the older to the younger generation. Nobody can truly forget where they come from and where their roots lay, even if they go from one life to the next and the cycle continues without pause.
Koujurou believed that-he really believed that, because that was the only reason as to why this was even happening. Even if that belief had waned over the years to be replaced by weariness and exhaustion and the never ending question of how much longer. How much longer did he have to wait before he could finally fulfil the promise he made? So many years had passed, and so many times was he on the verge of simply wanting to give up and let himself die as he rightfully should have after the death of his lord and master so long ago.
But now here he was, the answer right before his eyes and even though Koujurou has pictured the scene of this moment for so many times, nothing manages to come out from him. All he can do is to stare, eyes wide in disbelief as he looks at that face, the eyepatch (it looked so wrong, so wrong because that eyepatch was so wrong and he wasn’t sick at all-) and that lone blue eye that stares back at him. He can see the differences between this boy and the man he should be, but at the same time he can also see the similarities and the soul that shone through that eye. It’s that same soul, that same spirit-the very thing he has been searching for all these years.
He wants to speak, to try and say something, but before he can even open his mouth the boy starts first-and the word he says instantly sends the world crashing on his shoulders.
“…Koujurou.”
The boy knows. He knows.
It takes almost everything inside him to stop himself from stumbling onto the ground as his knees threaten buckle into themselves, and Koujurou can feel the weight of five centuries finally lifting away from him. He takes a step forward, stepping closer to the boy, so many emotions running through him that he’s caught up in all of it and it renders him unable to say anything at all. Even if he’s spent countless years over this, even if he’s pictured the moment of this instant over and over in his head-he’s still speechless, still at a loss on what to do or to say. Was this real? Is this a dream? After all these years, the whole instant just suddenly feels so surreal.
The boy stares at him, uncertainty crossing his features now-wondering if he’s imagining this too, if this is a trick or his mind or it’s just something he shouldn’t have done. He stands his ground still, but Koujurou can all too easily spot the hesitation that flickers on his face. So many years, and some things never change and still remain the same in his eyes.
Still the same.
This was still the same lord he had served.
His knees finally give out, and Koujurou goes onto his knees (much to the wide-eyed shock from the boy who backed away by a few steps). He barely registers the hesitant start that comes from the teenager as he lowers his head and swallows his tongue and finally manages to say out the one thing that he can say. The only thing he can say.
“Masamune-sama.”
viii. fulfilment of the promise of that distant day.
The name (Koujurou, a name that feels so natural to speak of even though he hasn’t said it at all) falls out from his lips before he can stop himself, and for a moment Kisei wonders if he had said something wrong-the abrupt silence that follows after him is nothing short of dreadful, full of unspoken questions and answers. Is this what he had been searching for-is this the person who has been calling him all this time? He doesn’t know, and Kisei doesn’t dare to ask; breaking the silence here and now seems to be a bad idea now, especially considering how the man was seemingly acting. Perhaps… maybe…
Then he falls onto his knees and hands and Kisei finds himself taken aback by that move, not quite sure what to do or what to say. He attempts to say something (what exactly that something was supposed to be, he has no idea) but then the man says that one name and everything stops in his head.
Masamune-sama.
A name, but that’s all it takes for everything else to start crashing into his mind. His heart stops, and he feels his blood freezing-not in fear, but at the sudden surge of everything that comes into him. Things that he should have had, things that he had lost over and over again through the many years and lives he’s lived in. Now it all returns to him, everything settling right where it should be as the confusion clears and for the first time in his life Kisei can feel the clarity in his mind.
It’s him. That’s him-he’s Masamune, and this man before him has been waiting all these years, never letting death to grasp at him even once as he waits for this moment, this very instant. In order to fulfil the promise made between them as he lay dying in the arms of the man he trusted and relied on the most. He remembers it now, remembers it as clear as day; the last memory of his life, a memory he should have kept but had instead lay forgotten until now.
Five hundred years, and now they’re finally together again.
Five hundred years.
The weight of that realization weighs down onto him, crashing against his back before he even notices it and Kisei stumbles forward as well, almost to his knees if it wasn’t for the fact that Koujurou is before him. Koujurou, his loyal Right Eye, his trusted retainer. Koujurou, who was still living and alive and waiting for him even after all this time.
Koujurou, who he finally sees once more with his left eye.
Koujurou, who will finally let him see the world again as his right eye.
“Koujurou,” he manages out, voice rasping and croaking and on the verge of breaking because it’s been so long, so very long and five hundred years too late and he’s been here all this time waiting for him-
-he practically falls onto the elder man now, a whole ball of emotions jumbling in his mind as he puts his arms around him and buries his head into the crook of that shoulder, the name lurching out from him once more in a voice that held so many feelings at the same time.
“Koujurou.”
Koujurou, Koujurou was finally here again. With him. His right eye, back to his side after these five hundred years. It’s so surreal and he still wonders if this is all a dream, but the weight and solidity of Koujurou against him makes this feel so much more real. He’s here. He’s back. Koujurou’s back.
They’re finally together again.