The first snow of the year
Title: The first snow of the year
Writer: saengie
Original: The Musician and the Samurai by gothicauthor
Rating: PG-13
Group/Pairing: Kat-tun; Akame
Warnings/Genre: AU
Wordcount: 2.709
A/N: Thanks to bumfucked for the suggestions and the beta. My first remix ever, so I hope I didn't take too many liberties with this or mess it up too bad. *nervous*
The first snow of the year
"Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare.”
- Japanese proverb
Jin is six years old when he is first given music lessons. He doesn't remember much of that first week, apart from the sensation of the rough wooden floor underneath his bare feet, the way his fingers ache and eventually bleed, and the boy running around in the garden outside, attempting to hit snowflakes with his bokken. The boy's movements are clumsy at best, but he leans his head back and laughs up at the snow, before turning towards Jin and waving at him.
Even now, Jin still remembers that laugh better than he remembers the first few songs he learned to play. He thinks about it, every time during the first snow of the year.
It's his way of remembering, of honouring his childhood, even if it doesn't feel like something to honour.
--
Jin is ten years old when his parents are killed. He has blocked the memory from his mind, but it comes back in his nightmares. Late night, autumn leaves, heavy rain. The intruders wear dark clothes, masks over their faces. Jin remembers the contrasts; the black of the night, the white of the masks, the harsh red of his parents' blood over the walls. He thinks he cries, but he's not sure.
Afterwards, he's sent to a house in the city to live. "A place for good young boys like you," he's told, and he believes it. He goes, because he has no reason to stay. When he arrives, a stern woman looks him over and nods. She tells him that he has a pretty face, and that from now on, his name is Jin, and that he'll be good for business. He doesn't understand what she means, but he nods nonetheless and finds his place inside.
He whispers the name to himself under the blankets at night, until it becomes familiar. Until it becomes his own.
In the weeks that follow, he's being given lessons - some that he understands and some that he doesn't. The house is filled with youths, lost children like himself, and he talks to them all but befriends none. It's safer this way, he thinks. He doesn't plan on being here very long.
Except that weeks turn into months into years, and Jin grows up. He spends every free moment sitting at the window sill, looking outside and thinking. Spring blossoms into summer, summer fades into autumn, and the winter comes with the snow, falling silently and covering the grime of the streets, the filth of these houses. Jin watches children play in the small garden, but it's not the same.
They call him a dreamer, a dreamer, and they make him work harder than everybody else because of it.
--
Jin is fifteen years old when he leaves to find his own way. He wanders the roads, spends some time in a dojo, but he never picks up a sword. Swords remind him of pale white and harsh red, and he would rather not think of it. Instead he follows the exercises, finds ways to defend himself without needing a sword. He moves into a temple for a winter, and the monks trades him words of wisdom for a peace of mind and some songs on cold winter nights.
He sits in the garden and watches the snow fall, and he thinks about the young boy. There's a whisper of a laughter running through the wind, and Jin shudders.
He never did like the idea of ghosts.
It's difficult to find a place to settle down, and Jin keeps walking, wandering. He speaks with strangers from other lands, and picks up words from languages foreign to him. He spends a summer far north learning how to protect himself further, and they say he's good at this, he could become someone. They say he could be a soldier, a samurai, but Jin has no intention of spilling blood unless he can't possibly avoid it. "I don't like swords," he tells them, and leaves when the winter becomes too harsh.
He plays music with his eyes closed underneath a cherry tree with the blossoms falling around him, and he decides to go to Aichi. His mother mentioned the place, said she would take him there when he was older.
He smiles and imagines that she's with him still, sitting right to his left and watching him play.
--
Jin is twenty years old - or at least he thinks he is, he has almost lost count by now - when he meets Kame for the first time. It's a memorable one, as far as meeting goes. Jin plays at a tea house; sits in a corner with his shamisen and plays for his food and his cups of tea. From beneath his cloak, he watches the crowd and he knows from the beginning that the young samurai ordering cup upon cup of sake will be a problem. Jin isn't looking for problems - he's perfectly content spending his days dreaming of a world better than this, a life better than this.
The samurai seems to mind his own business, and Jin watches him, idly wondering what his story is. For someone so young, he looks harrowed and jaded. Wise beyond his years. His face tells Jin that he's a young one, but his eyes... Even when he's drunk, they're haunting. They remind him of something, but the memory is fleeting like fog on a summer morning, and Jin shakes his head, returning his focus to the shamisen.
Better mind your own business, he thinks, but he doesn't get a chance to follow his own advice for more than a few minutes before the fight breaks out.
He reacts instinctively the moment the samurai goes down. Puts down the shamisen and takes care of the rowdy group of men. It feels like he's dancing, despite not knowing how to; he spins and swerves, ducks and jumps. It's been a long time since he was in an actual fight, and he has forgotten how it feels. When it's over, he's surprised to find that he has missed this, the adrenaline, the danger, the way his heart races and the ache and pain in his body, reminding him that yes, he is still alive.
Carefully, he walks over to the young man and glances down at him. Smiles, because he looks ungraceful, shabby, drunk. Miserable. "You've fallen a long way, young samurai," Jin remarks, but never gets an answer.
Just what insanity persuades him to take the young man with him, Jin does not know. More likely than not, he does it because the owner of the tea house offers him a fair bit of money to get rid of the problem. Jin heads outside of town, to a clearing in the woods, and starts a fire while he waits for the samurai to wake up.
Which he does not long after with a groan and a disoriented look around. "How are you feeling?" Jin asks and moves forwards, offering the man a drink of water. He knows it'll make him feel better, and then he'll most likely be on his way. So Jin doesn't pay him much attention and merely tends to the fire before focusing on his shamisen, making sure it wasn't damaged in the brawl. It's his way to survive, after all - not the only one, but the one causing him the least amount of grief.
"Who are you?" The samurai's voice is coarse and thick, but he still sounds young. It makes Jin smile faintly.
"Just a musician," he replies softly. "I play some songs for a bit of food."
The samurai looks suspicious, as if he's expecting Jin to attack him. All things considered, Jin doesn't blame him. Above them, the stars are being lit one by one, and Jin watches as the samurai gets up on unsteady feet, pacing on the other side of the fire. "You don't have a name?"
Jin's mind flashes back to the when he was ten, just a child, still innocent and scared and full of dreams, but he shakes off the recollection quickly. "People call me Jin."
When the samurai asks him where they're going, Jin is surprised. He has encountered samurais before, and while most are courteous and value their honour, nobody has stayed more than necessary. He's come to think of them as solitary creatures, best left alone like deer in the wild. This one is different, but Jin still tells him that he can go where he pleases.
"My sword is in your service," the samurai says to him with challenge in his eyes and determination in his stance, and Jin laughs.
It feels nice, and that, more than the knowledge of having some protection, is what makes him decide to let the samurai come with him. "Let us be companions," he says, and spends the rest of the evening playing quiet songs with no words until they both fall asleep.
The first day on the road they hardly talk at all. Jin walks down nearly empty roads and Kame follows, half a step behind and to the right. The shuffle of his sandals end up being a nuisance, and Jin sighs and slows his pace slightly. "What do they call you?"
"Kamenashi."
Jin nods, doesn't push it further. If the samurai wishes to be called Kamenashi, then that is what he will be called. However, Jin smiles a little to himself as he glances over. Kame, he thinks to himself. You are certainly stubborn like one. Here's hoping that you're not as slow.
The next day, Jin learns that Kame is eighteen, around two years younger than himself. It's a surprise and expected at the same time, and when Kame guesses that Jin's nearing twenty-five, Jin laughs.
He has been laughing far more than usual the past few days.
Maybe it's a good thing to have a companion around after all. Jin certainly hopes so.
--
Jin is turning twenty-one years old on the day they walk into Aichi. Or rather, Jin walks while Kame limps, and he curses with almost every step. Jin makes no attempt to help him, because he was the one to come to Kame's aid the night before. As always, Kame drinks a bit too much at the tea houses where they stop, and he seems to attract trouble and brawls like blossoms attract bees.
It doesn't bother Jin too much - he always pretends he doesn't know Kame anyway - but he's starting to become fearful of the look Kame gives him.
Kame never stops to think, never looks for a way out of the fights. He lunges into them with determination, draws his sword far too quickly. He fights without knowing why; a samurai without a reason, a path, an honour. A samurai without nobody to fight for, so he fights with everybody instead - looking for something he can't seem to find.
Sometimes, Jin wonders if Kame chooses to stay in order to find some meaning in his life.
Aichi is a disappointment. It's a beautiful town, no doubt, but it's too quiet for Kame's liking and too frantic for Jin. It seems like a town for the wealthy and bored; rich men laughing with young geisha, and Jin watches them with disdain on his face, until Kame closes his hand around Jin's arm and pulls him on.
"We shouldn't stay here," he says. "This place isn't for us."
"Why not?" Jin asks, curious. He already knows he won't stay, but he's intrigued by the way Kame refers to them as a unit.
Kame hesitates, then curls an arm awkwardly around Jin's waist. "We don't belong here."
It's as simple as that, and then they leave.
--
Jin is twenty-two years old and Kame turns twenty on the first night they sleep together. It's early spring, but still chilly, and Kame moves over to Jin's side of the camp fire because he's too cold. "Move over," he whispers, and Jin shifts, lets Kame come close. It's a strange feeling. He hasn't let anyone get close for a long, long time, but Kame won't stop and won't go away. "You're warm," Kame mutters against Jin's neck, and it makes Jin laugh.
"You're just too thin to get warm," he replies and shifts to let Kame get more comfortable.
In the morning, Jin wakes up with Kame pressed tightly against him, and something about the look on Kame's face makes his heart flutter.
They're at the coast, looking out over the wide expanse of the ocean, and Jin takes Kame's hand. "I wish I could escape," he says, and is surprised to discover that he means it.
"Maybe one day," Kame replies. His voice is soft, understanding.
Jin hopes Kame will stay, if only for another day. He has come to rely on the samurai, more so than he would like to admit. Kame feels familiar too him, like a fleeting memory from his childhood. It's a strange feeling, but Jin relishes it. He likes how Kame makes him feel alive, how he feels like he has a reason and a direction with his life now.
He can only hope that Kame feels the same way.
--
Jin is twenty-five years old when they reach Kyoto, and it's nearing winter. He carries the shamisen on his back and Kame walks beside him with his katana safely tucked away. They're both cold; they've walked a long way in the past few days. There's no reason for them to rush, but they hurried nonetheless. Winter is coming, and it's better to find somewhere to stay before it gets too cold.
Kame gets them a room after a few tries, and slips out of his kimono in order to warm up once they're inside. "We should stay here for a while," he says, and curses over how cold his feet are.
For a while, Jin simply watches him. Kame is still the same; still so young, still ungraceful, still with a search for something indefinable in his eyes. In some ways, he's still a stranger. But Jin knows that he knows Kame better than anyone. He knows about the little things, the things that matter. The way Kame always strikes right first in a fight, the way he doesn't know how to start a fire, the way he's better at reading than Jin is, the way he won't quit until he's satisfied.
The way he'll lean his head on Jin's shoulder when he's tired, and the way his fingers will move over Jin's skin when they're alone.
The musician and his samurai, Jin muses, and lets Kame have the bigger half of their meal for the night.
They stand outside the tea house watching the snow two days later. The first snow of the year, and the thought makes Jin feel hopeful. Another winter coming on, then another year. Kame holds his hand, his grip too tight one second and nervously light the next. He's still young, he doesn't know how to do this naturally. It's fine. Jin can wait for him, until he's ready. Especially because it seems that Kame is not going anywhere. He's been trying to explain why the job he was hoping to get isn't working out after all, but Jin hasn't really been listening.
"So what do you think? Can you bear to be with me for a while longer?" Kame asks at length. For once he sounds hesitant, even if he tries to hide it by smiling. "My sword is still in your service."
The way Kame shuffles and shifts his weight from one foot to the other makes Jin laugh quietly. He takes a step closer and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Kame's lips, feels Kame tense up even if it's just for a split second. "I don't know what I would do with a sword," Jin says, mutters against Kame's ear. "But very well, young samurai. Let us stay companions."
The words make Kame lean his head back and laugh, and he stretches his arm out as if he wants to embrace the snow.
When he turns his head and smiles, the look in his eyes makes Jin's heart soar.
~fin~
Writer: saengie
Original: The Musician and the Samurai by gothicauthor
Rating: PG-13
Group/Pairing: Kat-tun; Akame
Warnings/Genre: AU
Wordcount: 2.709
A/N: Thanks to bumfucked for the suggestions and the beta. My first remix ever, so I hope I didn't take too many liberties with this or mess it up too bad. *nervous*
The first snow of the year
"Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare.”
- Japanese proverb
Jin is six years old when he is first given music lessons. He doesn't remember much of that first week, apart from the sensation of the rough wooden floor underneath his bare feet, the way his fingers ache and eventually bleed, and the boy running around in the garden outside, attempting to hit snowflakes with his bokken. The boy's movements are clumsy at best, but he leans his head back and laughs up at the snow, before turning towards Jin and waving at him.
Even now, Jin still remembers that laugh better than he remembers the first few songs he learned to play. He thinks about it, every time during the first snow of the year.
It's his way of remembering, of honouring his childhood, even if it doesn't feel like something to honour.
--
Jin is ten years old when his parents are killed. He has blocked the memory from his mind, but it comes back in his nightmares. Late night, autumn leaves, heavy rain. The intruders wear dark clothes, masks over their faces. Jin remembers the contrasts; the black of the night, the white of the masks, the harsh red of his parents' blood over the walls. He thinks he cries, but he's not sure.
Afterwards, he's sent to a house in the city to live. "A place for good young boys like you," he's told, and he believes it. He goes, because he has no reason to stay. When he arrives, a stern woman looks him over and nods. She tells him that he has a pretty face, and that from now on, his name is Jin, and that he'll be good for business. He doesn't understand what she means, but he nods nonetheless and finds his place inside.
He whispers the name to himself under the blankets at night, until it becomes familiar. Until it becomes his own.
In the weeks that follow, he's being given lessons - some that he understands and some that he doesn't. The house is filled with youths, lost children like himself, and he talks to them all but befriends none. It's safer this way, he thinks. He doesn't plan on being here very long.
Except that weeks turn into months into years, and Jin grows up. He spends every free moment sitting at the window sill, looking outside and thinking. Spring blossoms into summer, summer fades into autumn, and the winter comes with the snow, falling silently and covering the grime of the streets, the filth of these houses. Jin watches children play in the small garden, but it's not the same.
They call him a dreamer, a dreamer, and they make him work harder than everybody else because of it.
--
Jin is fifteen years old when he leaves to find his own way. He wanders the roads, spends some time in a dojo, but he never picks up a sword. Swords remind him of pale white and harsh red, and he would rather not think of it. Instead he follows the exercises, finds ways to defend himself without needing a sword. He moves into a temple for a winter, and the monks trades him words of wisdom for a peace of mind and some songs on cold winter nights.
He sits in the garden and watches the snow fall, and he thinks about the young boy. There's a whisper of a laughter running through the wind, and Jin shudders.
He never did like the idea of ghosts.
It's difficult to find a place to settle down, and Jin keeps walking, wandering. He speaks with strangers from other lands, and picks up words from languages foreign to him. He spends a summer far north learning how to protect himself further, and they say he's good at this, he could become someone. They say he could be a soldier, a samurai, but Jin has no intention of spilling blood unless he can't possibly avoid it. "I don't like swords," he tells them, and leaves when the winter becomes too harsh.
He plays music with his eyes closed underneath a cherry tree with the blossoms falling around him, and he decides to go to Aichi. His mother mentioned the place, said she would take him there when he was older.
He smiles and imagines that she's with him still, sitting right to his left and watching him play.
--
Jin is twenty years old - or at least he thinks he is, he has almost lost count by now - when he meets Kame for the first time. It's a memorable one, as far as meeting goes. Jin plays at a tea house; sits in a corner with his shamisen and plays for his food and his cups of tea. From beneath his cloak, he watches the crowd and he knows from the beginning that the young samurai ordering cup upon cup of sake will be a problem. Jin isn't looking for problems - he's perfectly content spending his days dreaming of a world better than this, a life better than this.
The samurai seems to mind his own business, and Jin watches him, idly wondering what his story is. For someone so young, he looks harrowed and jaded. Wise beyond his years. His face tells Jin that he's a young one, but his eyes... Even when he's drunk, they're haunting. They remind him of something, but the memory is fleeting like fog on a summer morning, and Jin shakes his head, returning his focus to the shamisen.
Better mind your own business, he thinks, but he doesn't get a chance to follow his own advice for more than a few minutes before the fight breaks out.
He reacts instinctively the moment the samurai goes down. Puts down the shamisen and takes care of the rowdy group of men. It feels like he's dancing, despite not knowing how to; he spins and swerves, ducks and jumps. It's been a long time since he was in an actual fight, and he has forgotten how it feels. When it's over, he's surprised to find that he has missed this, the adrenaline, the danger, the way his heart races and the ache and pain in his body, reminding him that yes, he is still alive.
Carefully, he walks over to the young man and glances down at him. Smiles, because he looks ungraceful, shabby, drunk. Miserable. "You've fallen a long way, young samurai," Jin remarks, but never gets an answer.
Just what insanity persuades him to take the young man with him, Jin does not know. More likely than not, he does it because the owner of the tea house offers him a fair bit of money to get rid of the problem. Jin heads outside of town, to a clearing in the woods, and starts a fire while he waits for the samurai to wake up.
Which he does not long after with a groan and a disoriented look around. "How are you feeling?" Jin asks and moves forwards, offering the man a drink of water. He knows it'll make him feel better, and then he'll most likely be on his way. So Jin doesn't pay him much attention and merely tends to the fire before focusing on his shamisen, making sure it wasn't damaged in the brawl. It's his way to survive, after all - not the only one, but the one causing him the least amount of grief.
"Who are you?" The samurai's voice is coarse and thick, but he still sounds young. It makes Jin smile faintly.
"Just a musician," he replies softly. "I play some songs for a bit of food."
The samurai looks suspicious, as if he's expecting Jin to attack him. All things considered, Jin doesn't blame him. Above them, the stars are being lit one by one, and Jin watches as the samurai gets up on unsteady feet, pacing on the other side of the fire. "You don't have a name?"
Jin's mind flashes back to the when he was ten, just a child, still innocent and scared and full of dreams, but he shakes off the recollection quickly. "People call me Jin."
When the samurai asks him where they're going, Jin is surprised. He has encountered samurais before, and while most are courteous and value their honour, nobody has stayed more than necessary. He's come to think of them as solitary creatures, best left alone like deer in the wild. This one is different, but Jin still tells him that he can go where he pleases.
"My sword is in your service," the samurai says to him with challenge in his eyes and determination in his stance, and Jin laughs.
It feels nice, and that, more than the knowledge of having some protection, is what makes him decide to let the samurai come with him. "Let us be companions," he says, and spends the rest of the evening playing quiet songs with no words until they both fall asleep.
The first day on the road they hardly talk at all. Jin walks down nearly empty roads and Kame follows, half a step behind and to the right. The shuffle of his sandals end up being a nuisance, and Jin sighs and slows his pace slightly. "What do they call you?"
"Kamenashi."
Jin nods, doesn't push it further. If the samurai wishes to be called Kamenashi, then that is what he will be called. However, Jin smiles a little to himself as he glances over. Kame, he thinks to himself. You are certainly stubborn like one. Here's hoping that you're not as slow.
The next day, Jin learns that Kame is eighteen, around two years younger than himself. It's a surprise and expected at the same time, and when Kame guesses that Jin's nearing twenty-five, Jin laughs.
He has been laughing far more than usual the past few days.
Maybe it's a good thing to have a companion around after all. Jin certainly hopes so.
--
Jin is turning twenty-one years old on the day they walk into Aichi. Or rather, Jin walks while Kame limps, and he curses with almost every step. Jin makes no attempt to help him, because he was the one to come to Kame's aid the night before. As always, Kame drinks a bit too much at the tea houses where they stop, and he seems to attract trouble and brawls like blossoms attract bees.
It doesn't bother Jin too much - he always pretends he doesn't know Kame anyway - but he's starting to become fearful of the look Kame gives him.
Kame never stops to think, never looks for a way out of the fights. He lunges into them with determination, draws his sword far too quickly. He fights without knowing why; a samurai without a reason, a path, an honour. A samurai without nobody to fight for, so he fights with everybody instead - looking for something he can't seem to find.
Sometimes, Jin wonders if Kame chooses to stay in order to find some meaning in his life.
Aichi is a disappointment. It's a beautiful town, no doubt, but it's too quiet for Kame's liking and too frantic for Jin. It seems like a town for the wealthy and bored; rich men laughing with young geisha, and Jin watches them with disdain on his face, until Kame closes his hand around Jin's arm and pulls him on.
"We shouldn't stay here," he says. "This place isn't for us."
"Why not?" Jin asks, curious. He already knows he won't stay, but he's intrigued by the way Kame refers to them as a unit.
Kame hesitates, then curls an arm awkwardly around Jin's waist. "We don't belong here."
It's as simple as that, and then they leave.
--
Jin is twenty-two years old and Kame turns twenty on the first night they sleep together. It's early spring, but still chilly, and Kame moves over to Jin's side of the camp fire because he's too cold. "Move over," he whispers, and Jin shifts, lets Kame come close. It's a strange feeling. He hasn't let anyone get close for a long, long time, but Kame won't stop and won't go away. "You're warm," Kame mutters against Jin's neck, and it makes Jin laugh.
"You're just too thin to get warm," he replies and shifts to let Kame get more comfortable.
In the morning, Jin wakes up with Kame pressed tightly against him, and something about the look on Kame's face makes his heart flutter.
They're at the coast, looking out over the wide expanse of the ocean, and Jin takes Kame's hand. "I wish I could escape," he says, and is surprised to discover that he means it.
"Maybe one day," Kame replies. His voice is soft, understanding.
Jin hopes Kame will stay, if only for another day. He has come to rely on the samurai, more so than he would like to admit. Kame feels familiar too him, like a fleeting memory from his childhood. It's a strange feeling, but Jin relishes it. He likes how Kame makes him feel alive, how he feels like he has a reason and a direction with his life now.
He can only hope that Kame feels the same way.
--
Jin is twenty-five years old when they reach Kyoto, and it's nearing winter. He carries the shamisen on his back and Kame walks beside him with his katana safely tucked away. They're both cold; they've walked a long way in the past few days. There's no reason for them to rush, but they hurried nonetheless. Winter is coming, and it's better to find somewhere to stay before it gets too cold.
Kame gets them a room after a few tries, and slips out of his kimono in order to warm up once they're inside. "We should stay here for a while," he says, and curses over how cold his feet are.
For a while, Jin simply watches him. Kame is still the same; still so young, still ungraceful, still with a search for something indefinable in his eyes. In some ways, he's still a stranger. But Jin knows that he knows Kame better than anyone. He knows about the little things, the things that matter. The way Kame always strikes right first in a fight, the way he doesn't know how to start a fire, the way he's better at reading than Jin is, the way he won't quit until he's satisfied.
The way he'll lean his head on Jin's shoulder when he's tired, and the way his fingers will move over Jin's skin when they're alone.
The musician and his samurai, Jin muses, and lets Kame have the bigger half of their meal for the night.
They stand outside the tea house watching the snow two days later. The first snow of the year, and the thought makes Jin feel hopeful. Another winter coming on, then another year. Kame holds his hand, his grip too tight one second and nervously light the next. He's still young, he doesn't know how to do this naturally. It's fine. Jin can wait for him, until he's ready. Especially because it seems that Kame is not going anywhere. He's been trying to explain why the job he was hoping to get isn't working out after all, but Jin hasn't really been listening.
"So what do you think? Can you bear to be with me for a while longer?" Kame asks at length. For once he sounds hesitant, even if he tries to hide it by smiling. "My sword is still in your service."
The way Kame shuffles and shifts his weight from one foot to the other makes Jin laugh quietly. He takes a step closer and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Kame's lips, feels Kame tense up even if it's just for a split second. "I don't know what I would do with a sword," Jin says, mutters against Kame's ear. "But very well, young samurai. Let us stay companions."
The words make Kame lean his head back and laugh, and he stretches his arm out as if he wants to embrace the snow.
When he turns his head and smiles, the look in his eyes makes Jin's heart soar.
~fin~