Sengoku BASARA uber-crack: There Be Monsters [co-written w/ dune_master ]
Title: “There Be Monsters”
Author: Shaitanah & Dune_Master
Rating: G (or NC-17, depending on how much you love gardens)
Summary: Date Masamune has never lost a battle… until now.
Disclaimer: Sengoku BASARA belongs to Capcom, Production I.G. and whatnot.
Special Thanks: to Shaitanah’s Mom for giving ideas.
A/N: This is complete rubbish written by two insane people who have never done any gardening or whatever in their entire lives about a person who has not done any gardening either. You’ve been warned.
Dedication: artsatalex! You asked for it!
THERE BE MONSTERS
Date Masamune is just self-righteous enough to believe he can do anything. The only reason he has not conquered the entire Land of the Rising Sun yet is because much too rapid a conquest presents no game. (Or so he likes to tell himself.)
Date Masamune is militaristic enough to try a strategic approach to just about anything. He does not divide the world into black and white, rather than allies and rivals. He is gracious towards the former and merciless to the latter.
(Kojuurou’s vegetable garden has definitely won its way among the latter.)
Were Masamune to believe such things, he would surely proclaim that the damn patch of land hated him.
He comes up on the hill overseeing the castle one autumn day, having made up his mind to engage the only thing in the whole of Oshuu that has not yet accepted his dominance in the final decisive battle. His weapons of choice are a shovel, a watering pot, and his own brilliant mind of a warlord that has never come within a firing distance of an orchard. (At least not alone.)
Nevertheless, Masamune has a number of reasons to venture there now. Of those, the key ones are: he intends to help out the recently wounded Kojuurou; he wants to understand what Kojuurou finds so appealing about field work; he is bored. Very. (Somebody has to pay.)
Masamune half-expects to find numerous babies in the cabbage patches, seeing as Kojuurou enjoys frequenting this place a little too much.
It should be duly noted that Date Masamune has (naturally) never done any field work in his life, and his objectives tonight are a bit unclear, to himself above all. He vaguely recalls hearing Kojuurou plan to replant something, but he cannot remember for the life of him what that ‘something’ is, where it should be moved and why it can’t keep to its original patch.
He could take the easy way out of course. He could ask the villagers for assistance. But he would not be the One-Eyed Dragon if he did. He goes about things quickly and committedly. He keeps his eyes on the prize and only challenges the best and-
What the hell are these plants anyway? Okay, so cabbage is easy to recognize (no babies there, Masamune checked) and Kojuurou’s famous leek is likely not up here anyway. But what’s everything else? And how does he know it is not already growing the way it is supposed to grow?
The answer to that is simple: he does not. But he will find out.
Date starts by digging up half of the plantation, waiting patiently for inspiration to hit him. When the work is done and his yukata is accessorised with multiple dirt stains of various shapes and sizes while he still has zero idea where those green bastards are supposed to go, the One-Eyed Dragon finds himself struck by another revelation. Why would he dig a separate hole for every plant when there is a perfectly concise and fast way to plough the new scrap of land all at once? (So what if the designated territory is a bit tougher and a bit less black soil?)
Date withdraws momentarily and returns fifteen minutes later with a few handmade bombs, which he scatters about and ducks. A layer of dirt flies up gracefully, as though a muddy-brown wing of some glorious bird taking flight. The traumatized earth responds by launching bombshells of weeds and something that smells suspiciously like compost in the brave general’s direction.
“Shit,” mutters Masamune, not quite clear on whether he is cursing or simply stating the obvious fact.
Be that as it may, the ploughland is ready, and he goes staunchly about sticking every damned sapling in. With some of them, it is hard to say where the roots and where the tops are, so Masamune just goes with what looks greener.
He has to admit the new patches look a bit less than perfect, particularly compared to the ones Kojuurou has worked on alongside the village folk. But it’s okay; he’ll straighten them out later.
What he does know about plants for a fact is that they are always thirsty. It takes Date about a dozen refills of his water pot to thoroughly flood the newest patches. Unfortunately, the soil ends up severely washed away and turns into weird-smelling slush in places, and the One-Eyed Dragon spends the next hour meticulously sticking the unruly sprouts back into their dirt holes. By now he has already understood that there is absolutely nothing relaxing about digging patches, but he is not about to surrender just yet.
The moon shines brightly over Oshuu. Late night spills over into the ungodly hours, and Date Masamune’s stint is nearly done. To protect his newly invaded land from unwanted contenders, he (no, he doesn’t stick his flag there, although he very much wants to) stretches a hank of trip-wire around the perimetre and then he sits down, rubbing his bruises, and lets weariness overtake him right on the battlefield.
* * *
Kojuurou’s eye is twitching. That’s odd; Date never noticed any inclination towards tics in his faithful retainer. That is his first clue that something is wrong. (Then again, it may be simply because Kojuurou has accidentally activated the trip-wire mine when going up the hill.)
His second clue is that Kojuurou is not quick enough to congratulate him on his latest victory. In fact, Kojuurou is not quick to speak at all. He just stands there, scrutinizing the vegetable patches, which admittedly look a bit less pretty in daylight than they did last night.
Date snorts thoughtfully and runs his fingers through his hair, pulling out several damp weeds as he does so.
Kojuurou is still silent as the grave. Hardly a good sign. (Date wonders if he should have taken his swords with him. Just in case.)
Kojuurou swallows; now it’s not just his eye that is twitching, but also his Adam’s apple and - Date is certain he caught sight of it - his hand.
Masamune tenses.
Kojuurou turns to face him, the very embodiment of decisive solemnity - and suddenly sinks down on his knees.
“Masamune-sama.” His voice sounds strained and rich with shades of intonation Date cannot quite place. He casts his eyes downward and goes on: “I, Kojuurou, appreciate your hard work and your care for the well-being of our harvest. Yet I should confess that if you try to help me again, I would be compelled to perform harakiri, for I strongly believe that neither I, nor the plantations are deserving of your great displays of concern.”
(Now why does that tirade feel so forced?)
Date smirks. “Didn’t I already tell you? You’re not allowed to die.”
Kojuurou looks up. His face is unreadable and his voice is a tad bit too dark.
“Who said anything about me?”
July 14, 2010
Author: Shaitanah & Dune_Master
Rating: G (or NC-17, depending on how much you love gardens)
Summary: Date Masamune has never lost a battle… until now.
Disclaimer: Sengoku BASARA belongs to Capcom, Production I.G. and whatnot.
Special Thanks: to Shaitanah’s Mom for giving ideas.
A/N: This is complete rubbish written by two insane people who have never done any gardening or whatever in their entire lives about a person who has not done any gardening either. You’ve been warned.
Dedication: artsatalex! You asked for it!
THERE BE MONSTERS
Date Masamune is just self-righteous enough to believe he can do anything. The only reason he has not conquered the entire Land of the Rising Sun yet is because much too rapid a conquest presents no game. (Or so he likes to tell himself.)
Date Masamune is militaristic enough to try a strategic approach to just about anything. He does not divide the world into black and white, rather than allies and rivals. He is gracious towards the former and merciless to the latter.
(Kojuurou’s vegetable garden has definitely won its way among the latter.)
Were Masamune to believe such things, he would surely proclaim that the damn patch of land hated him.
He comes up on the hill overseeing the castle one autumn day, having made up his mind to engage the only thing in the whole of Oshuu that has not yet accepted his dominance in the final decisive battle. His weapons of choice are a shovel, a watering pot, and his own brilliant mind of a warlord that has never come within a firing distance of an orchard. (At least not alone.)
Nevertheless, Masamune has a number of reasons to venture there now. Of those, the key ones are: he intends to help out the recently wounded Kojuurou; he wants to understand what Kojuurou finds so appealing about field work; he is bored. Very. (Somebody has to pay.)
Masamune half-expects to find numerous babies in the cabbage patches, seeing as Kojuurou enjoys frequenting this place a little too much.
It should be duly noted that Date Masamune has (naturally) never done any field work in his life, and his objectives tonight are a bit unclear, to himself above all. He vaguely recalls hearing Kojuurou plan to replant something, but he cannot remember for the life of him what that ‘something’ is, where it should be moved and why it can’t keep to its original patch.
He could take the easy way out of course. He could ask the villagers for assistance. But he would not be the One-Eyed Dragon if he did. He goes about things quickly and committedly. He keeps his eyes on the prize and only challenges the best and-
What the hell are these plants anyway? Okay, so cabbage is easy to recognize (no babies there, Masamune checked) and Kojuurou’s famous leek is likely not up here anyway. But what’s everything else? And how does he know it is not already growing the way it is supposed to grow?
The answer to that is simple: he does not. But he will find out.
Date starts by digging up half of the plantation, waiting patiently for inspiration to hit him. When the work is done and his yukata is accessorised with multiple dirt stains of various shapes and sizes while he still has zero idea where those green bastards are supposed to go, the One-Eyed Dragon finds himself struck by another revelation. Why would he dig a separate hole for every plant when there is a perfectly concise and fast way to plough the new scrap of land all at once? (So what if the designated territory is a bit tougher and a bit less black soil?)
Date withdraws momentarily and returns fifteen minutes later with a few handmade bombs, which he scatters about and ducks. A layer of dirt flies up gracefully, as though a muddy-brown wing of some glorious bird taking flight. The traumatized earth responds by launching bombshells of weeds and something that smells suspiciously like compost in the brave general’s direction.
“Shit,” mutters Masamune, not quite clear on whether he is cursing or simply stating the obvious fact.
Be that as it may, the ploughland is ready, and he goes staunchly about sticking every damned sapling in. With some of them, it is hard to say where the roots and where the tops are, so Masamune just goes with what looks greener.
He has to admit the new patches look a bit less than perfect, particularly compared to the ones Kojuurou has worked on alongside the village folk. But it’s okay; he’ll straighten them out later.
What he does know about plants for a fact is that they are always thirsty. It takes Date about a dozen refills of his water pot to thoroughly flood the newest patches. Unfortunately, the soil ends up severely washed away and turns into weird-smelling slush in places, and the One-Eyed Dragon spends the next hour meticulously sticking the unruly sprouts back into their dirt holes. By now he has already understood that there is absolutely nothing relaxing about digging patches, but he is not about to surrender just yet.
The moon shines brightly over Oshuu. Late night spills over into the ungodly hours, and Date Masamune’s stint is nearly done. To protect his newly invaded land from unwanted contenders, he (no, he doesn’t stick his flag there, although he very much wants to) stretches a hank of trip-wire around the perimetre and then he sits down, rubbing his bruises, and lets weariness overtake him right on the battlefield.
* * *
Kojuurou’s eye is twitching. That’s odd; Date never noticed any inclination towards tics in his faithful retainer. That is his first clue that something is wrong. (Then again, it may be simply because Kojuurou has accidentally activated the trip-wire mine when going up the hill.)
His second clue is that Kojuurou is not quick enough to congratulate him on his latest victory. In fact, Kojuurou is not quick to speak at all. He just stands there, scrutinizing the vegetable patches, which admittedly look a bit less pretty in daylight than they did last night.
Date snorts thoughtfully and runs his fingers through his hair, pulling out several damp weeds as he does so.
Kojuurou is still silent as the grave. Hardly a good sign. (Date wonders if he should have taken his swords with him. Just in case.)
Kojuurou swallows; now it’s not just his eye that is twitching, but also his Adam’s apple and - Date is certain he caught sight of it - his hand.
Masamune tenses.
Kojuurou turns to face him, the very embodiment of decisive solemnity - and suddenly sinks down on his knees.
“Masamune-sama.” His voice sounds strained and rich with shades of intonation Date cannot quite place. He casts his eyes downward and goes on: “I, Kojuurou, appreciate your hard work and your care for the well-being of our harvest. Yet I should confess that if you try to help me again, I would be compelled to perform harakiri, for I strongly believe that neither I, nor the plantations are deserving of your great displays of concern.”
(Now why does that tirade feel so forced?)
Date smirks. “Didn’t I already tell you? You’re not allowed to die.”
Kojuurou looks up. His face is unreadable and his voice is a tad bit too dark.
“Who said anything about me?”
July 14, 2010