tosa: (pic#10826971)
Mutsunokami Yoshiyuki (陸奥守吉行) | Ryusei Sakamoto ([personal profile] tosa) wrote in [community profile] elibe2017-09-13 01:12 am


10 December, 1967.

Mutsu remembers this time. He remembers how Ryouma had gone from a rebel ronin to a hero seemingly overnight, albeit, a controversial one given how emotional both sides still were. He remembers how Ryouma was constantly up until the late hours of the night, responding to letters from official sources that had suddenly increased. There would be letters offering him positions in the new government and he knew this offended people-- even his own men. Ryouma was a hero but he was still very much in danger.

Tonight, more than ever.

He'd tried to keep himself distanced. He'd tried to stay away because he knew in his memory what would happen and in his heart, both what he wanted to do and what needed to be done. If he could see Ryouma again, he'd surely throw his arms around him this time and not let him go. He'd give Ryouma a cloth and blow his nose and tell him to be careful and to watch his health. Are you still sick? Gee, you work too hard but I guess new ages don't come for slackers.

And none of that would have been good for their mission.

But things aren't going according to plan tonight, are they? He's cut down the last of the Retrograding Army in his way he glances back at the shop behind him. Omiya. These guys were always chasing him back to the past like he couldn't escape it.

Would Ryouma keep that sword with him until the last moment? Would Ryouma let him see? They'd made a promise only a few years ago.

Sword still unsheathed, he grips it tighter and calls out into the night, "What are you thinking about, Horikawa Kunihiro?"
yamiuchi: (15)

ultra late BUT I AM HERE

[personal profile] yamiuchi 2017-09-16 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
Horikawa also remembers, though for him, he pictures a different place and a different person. The Shinsengumi had their place set in history and in fame--or infamy, depending on who you asked. They were ordered to not touch Sakamato Ryouma. Hijikata had followed that. Horikawa still believes they all did.

But that's history. Today, what's happening before his eyes should be history. Yet his mind wanders...if the power wasn't restored, if the Shinsengumi lived on--if more than just two or three members lived, if Hijikata had lived...

This wasn't about him. It wasn't about being cast into the ocean and his existence shattering away like. It's about Kanesan. It's about Hijikata. The things he could do, the time that he shouldn't be doubting him, it was now.

He's following orders for now--taking down the Retrograding Army and keeping his movements crisp and clear. It convenient that the blood disappears when they're struck down, less to clean and less grime. How unlike his memories, when swords were drenched in so much blood it made everything heavier as it pooled and dripped onto skin and fabric. But the hand that held him never slipped.

Until that day.

The night air is cold and bites at his lungs. Horikawa guts another enemy with a satisfying crunch of muscle and bone, straightening his shoulders as he glances down from the rooftop.

I could make this right.

He swallows, and tastes nothing but the feelings that have been sitting in his throat. Going the Bakumatsu era always brought up nostalgia, and nostalgia is not a friend. This is an opportune moment, and if he wanted to, he could take it, so easily.

Mutsunokami's words reverberate loudly, seemingly louder than the guttural screaming of the Retrograding Army. The feeling drops down to his stomach.

"Well," he raises his voice only slightly. "A lot of things."

That's an evasive answer and he knows it. With a light hop, he leaps down from the rooftop, landing in a crouch. "I was thinking about fate."