#this waiting game is prolonging my agony over not knowing their fate

[voidstilesplease]

"We are going to see a couple of two boys who love each other very much and who are in love, but overwhelmed by the fact that they face situations and are surprised by life. And every beautiful story they built, and all the serenity they had, get shaken a little."

I will go back to this answer when I finish the season and see how "little" things get shaken indeed

[shuichi-sama]

take me home, soldier. part 1

masterlist

warnings: war, blood, torture, kidnapping, guns, violence, bombs, curse words, etc.

Summary: When Yeonjun steps over the borderline into enemy territory he is captured by the mayor of the town and taken hostage into his house. Instigated and tortured for information, he wishes his last days would come quickly but when the major’s daughter finds the hidden room along with Yeonjun she wants nothing but to save him from the shackles of his cruel fate and Yeonjun comes to want to take her away from what is her cruel reality.

It was nighttime, or so he believed. The prior noises from the outside of his confined space ceased leaving nothing but Yeonjun's thoughts to eat him alive through the deathly silence instead.

His restraints weighed on him tons, cutting through his red and purple wrist from his attempt to pry them off. Sore and bruised limbs because of the brutal physical abuse he received the first day of being caught, the day after, the day before today, today, and the many more days to come. His knees soaked in crimson red, sharp-edged pebbles prickling deeper over every motion taken. He was tired, eyes adrift and covered, surely he was dead, considered a dead man, he wanted to be dead, wishing the agonizing aches would disappear even if the pain was the only thing making him fully aware that he was still there, that he was still alive, letting him know the end was yet to come.

Through the pain, Yeonjun was still completely aware of his surroundings. His senses drifting to make note of all the noises around him giving him something else to think about aside from his captivation and agony. The sounds of the cicadas singing reminded him of the soft humming of his mother's lullabies, along with rain that began to pour complemented by loud thundering resonated through the room brought him images of his hometown where the weather was unpredictable, but all the same, he missed it.

But other sounds didn't bring Yeonjun comfort, on the contrary, he wishes he could zone them out, the voices that would lurk outside the room in the morning and evening time before they made their way inside the room to continue their game of bloody torture.

And the one he hated the most, the one he dreads all day to come just like tonight, the antagonizing sound of a key clicking and turning the lock, the prolonged creaking sound of the wooden door opening as if taunting his freedom that stood a couple of feet away from him. The only thing standing between each other? The restraints and whoever was standing before him now.

They stood in silence as if simply just admiring the young boy kneeling down on his own lifeline. Even if Yeonjun couldn't see them, he could feel their presence. Waiting impatiently for their next move perhaps kick, a jab, anything, his body shaking with anxiety and fear, the thought of receiving yet another wound that would bring him closer to death's door crosses his mind, but nothing ever came.

Licking his chapped lips, Yeonjun's betrayed by his own horsed and barely audible voice due to lack of dehydration. "Are you just going to just stand there?"

Yeonjun's sentences came less composed than he wanted them to be. His words shook as he spoke, he was afraid and anyone who would think they wouldn't be in this situation hasn't experienced it, because when face to face with death anyone would be afraid even the devil himself.

"I already told you, I don't know anything, s-so, either just let me go or put me out of my fucking misery already."

The grating sound of shoes skipping rocks unintentionally, alerted Yeonjun of their advances towards his feeble body, kneeling before him. This had been the closest he could have possibly been to death and yet a faint sob could be heard from Yeonjun's cracked lips, who's torn between two choices, mercy or surrender.

Breath hitching at the proximity, Yeonjun's heart that had been running miles beyond humanly possible, stopped abruptly, dropping to the pit of his stomach as the blinds of his eyes were untied, freeing him to see the person in front of him. The brush of the girl's delicate hand rested on his cheek, cupping streams of tears he never knew he let out down his pale complexion.

"It's okay, you're okay." She said reassuring him her own set of tears streaming down her face at the beaten man in front of her. "You're not alone anymore. I'm going to get you out of here, you have my word."

And just like that the coldness he had felt all along vanished at the simple act of another, allowing him to be vulnerable and break down completely in the hands of this girl that gave him hope for another tomorrow, where death wasn't an option for him anymore.

[shimayufanfiction]

Branches - Two Fates. One Tale

A/N: In dire need of feedback! Please leave a comment! XD

Universe: Alternate Universe / Sousei no Onmyouji (manga)

Pairing: Shimon x Mayura

Rated T

Author: lovingtimetravelexpert

Branches – Two Fates. One Tale

Chapter 1: Legend of the past and the future

Blood spluttered out of the wound. A fountain of scarlet liquid, sipping through two holes having been plunged deeply into the flesh, poured down the white bloodless skin. A death rattle, the rasping breath of a living thing dying, accompanied the sight, disturbing the silence.

Watching the display in front of him, he frowned.

He had seen it before. Had seen it often. There had been a time he lived for it. Loved to see the life slowly fade, fear and pain clouding their widened eyes, contorting their faces into masks of terror. They had no idea how good they had it.

He'd spent years amusing himself, feeling the rush of the hunt and the pleasure of soaking the life out of his victim. He'd slain and slaughtered before he'd spent decades on envying their short-lived lives. Envied their ability to sense – everything! – while he could not taste anything but blood, could not smell anything but fear and could not feel anything but lust and agony.

And then there had been one thing and one thing only on his mind: To free his soul from the slings attached.

He had searched for one person, the one man to end this endless repetition of sating his thirst and growing new hunger, and before he knew it, centuries had gone bye. He'd crossed realms searching for him, had seen creatures like himself and monstrosities that made even his hair stand on his neck. He'd traveled through dry deserts, over cold snow dunes and shipped over the big sea; only to find himself back where he had started. Where it all began and where he was born not once but twice. Where he was killed and revived by the hands of something more powerful than himself. It wasn't luck. He knew better. It was yet another carve in the coffin that was his twisted fate. He would not be surprised to find out that his one task was impossible.

The thud on the floor startled him out of his line of thought. The wide eyed corpse rested against the wooden wall of the house he had been lured out off moments ago.

He looked at his brother, who had walked the surface of earth for centuries at his side and now wiped off the blood from the corners of his mouth, tainting a snow white handkerchief with a deep red. The color of the liquid of life, which he and his brother needed to prolong their death.

Raising an eyebrow, he waited for a reaction of his brother, who had the same red flaming hair and similar sky blue eyes as he had. Though, Keiji was said to look more friendly; eyes less icy and quick to smile, in contrast to his own constant scowl.

Probing for information, he asked his brother, "Did he know something?"

"Seems like our henchmen were correct. There is someone living in this village who is believed to be the one we need," Keiji turned. The end of his dark coat swiped the air, swirling up the dark alley's dust. He sighed and complained, "I do prefer the sweetness of a young girl over the sour and dry taste of men."

"So it all ends where it began, huh?" He commented, rather sour. He was tired of this game, a game he had not known he agreed to play, back when his heart had ached in pain and love enough to blind his reason.

"Narukami," his brother murmured lowly. They both had unfaded memories of this place, where they had lived until they died.

"Did you miss it?" Keiji inquired.

"After what happened here? Hardly," he answered. The short span of his life hadn't been the one with the fondest memories, when every day, starving had been more likely than surviving.

Nevertheless, even after centuries, he remembered how he felt, when he heard her kind laughter or saw her sweet smile. He remembered how his heart had clenched, jumped in joy and twisted in awe. He could almost feel it while he remembered, almost felt the silent organ start pumping in his chest again. Yet, it was an illusion.

It was the price he had to pay his executioner all this time ago.

"What's your plan, Shimon?" His brother's voice came to him, disturbing the weird form of melancholia and indifference he had never grown used to.

If the one he needed to free his soul was here, in this tiny village far from the blooming civilization of the new cities, he was closer than he'd ever been. It had been over a century, since he began to hunt down the lineage of Amawaka.

Soon he would meet the last of them and he wanted to make sure that it happened.

"Let us celebrate our arrival," he said. "Take as many villagers as you can as prisoners. If he is not part of them, he will come out either way."

"As you command," Keiji bowed before he turned on the heels of his leather boots and walked away, becoming one with the shadows of the alley.

Shimon set his eyes, once again, onto the motionless body resting against the hut. Many had died for his course. Many had he killed for pleasure or nutrition, most times both. He wondered if it had been, what They had wanted.

As he turned away to go back to the carriage they'd left in front of the town, he ran his tongue over his pointed teeth.

There was one wish. One desire and one desire only: To free his soul. To accomplish that, he needed to fulfill his part of the legend. The legend that had bound him to an unlived life and undone death.

He was destined to pour the blood of the one who would bring him to fall.

The sword slashed straight down towards her. In the last moment she lifted her own weapon to stop the blow from cutting her in half. Supporting her one-edged blade with a hand pressed against the blunt side of her sword, she did her best not to stumble. Her feet slid back on the dry earth, crunching below her boots, as she tried to hold her balance by bending her knees.

"Argh," she groaned. Pushing back with all her might she rose into an upright position again. Then she kicked her attacker's shin. The dark haired man jumped back with a whimper.

She sucked in harsh breaths, feeling tired from the exertion. Her strength wasn't physical power. Compared to her opponent, she was physically weaker, but she'd trained hard and relentlessly to polish her skills in speed and flexibility.

With a roar she jumped towards him and feinted a straight blow. As he rose his sword to block the impact, she shifted to her left. Strands of blonde hair fell into her face. In the blink of an eye she hit his hand with the end of her handle and knocked the sword out of his hand.

"Ouch! You're not supposed to break my bones during sparring, Mayura," her teacher complained, supporting the hand she'd hit with his other. Jinya was older than her. Almost a decade older. Although they weren't related, she thought of him as an uncle. Since her father's death, he had taken care of her, for which she was utterly grateful.

"And what was that earlier? You could have sliced me in two," she countered.

"I knew you would block the hit," he replied cheekily, smirking at her. His pointed face with the narrow eyes did not look kind, yet when he smirked like that, she could not help but smile.

Turning around, she walked to the small, shabby shed they used to store their weapons in. It might have been for storage of wheat or rice once; now, it was rotting away. They used it to keep weapons and tools for field work as dry as possible without them lying around in the house. It must have been built long before the larger house next to it, which did not look quite as shabby, and which she called her home.

Mayura sighed, tired and weary. It felt she was doing nothing but training these days. Not only was it eating on her physically, but she'd rather spend her time with the others who worked on the field, cooked, washed and looked out for the smaller children. Also she really missed hanging out with her best friend. Yet, she was forced to spend her time improving her skills in swordsmanship, training her reaction speed, her balance and accuracy. And everything just because of some legend that nobody knew if it would come true.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Frustrated she turned around and wailed, "Can we call it a day now, please? I am very tired."

"You know that the monster will never rest either," Jinya said, frowning at her. The scar beneath his right eye budged and bowed, curved like a smile. It was one of his favorite arguments, whenever she complained about her training.

"But we don't know if the legend will ever come true." Aggravated, Mayura raised her hands and gesticulated wildly. "What if it is not about me? What if it is about my children?"

"Your father said similar things, but in a different tone," her uncle rebuked her. "He did everything to protect you. He gave his own life to do so."

It felt like a stab to her heart. She should have foreseen him mentioning her father. The proud and strong man who gave his life for her when the henchmen of the monster had searched for them.

They had never found his body.

Huffing, Mayura's arms fell to her sides and her gaze to the ground. "I know, but I- I have never seen one of them." She shrugged, feeling helplessly. It wasn't that she was afraid to fight. She was afraid to fail. Swallowing down her biggest doubt, she formulated one of the few ones that had been on her mind for a while, "How do they look? Will I recognize the monster, if it stood in front of me?"

"You ought to do what was promised." Again, one of the sentences she'd heard thousand times before. The burden pressed down on her shoulders, making her feel small.

Jinya stood in front of her on the trampled path between the shabby shed and the orphanage, arms crossed and chin raised. The only thing moving was his pony tail whipping in the wind. His face was hard – as if it was carved in stone. There was no compassion or empathy in his gaze, now.

Nevertheless she tried to get him to fathom the reasons of her doubts, shaking her head in defeat. "I've never killed anyone. How am I supposed to do this?"

He put a hand onto her shoulder and squeezed it slightly. "You have the blood of the Amawaka lineage running through your veins."

Blood. That was all it was about. A legend of blood. Yet, she could not see how the last of the Amawaka bloodline, who was said to stop the monster, was supposed to be her, especially when she thought blood to be as thick as water for all of her brothers and sisters that weren't related to her. What was the importance of blood when she had a family bound by fate and luck?

Suddenly she heard the sound of thumping and turned around and saw a blonde girl her age running with stomping large steps towards them. It was Yuki who started yelling, "Jinya! Jinya!" She came to a stop in front of said man and breathed harshly, bending her upper body down with hands stemmed against her knees.

Evil foreboding rained down on Mayura. Her muscles tensed and quivered. Her fears were confirmed, when Yuki straightened her posture and uttered, "They are here. He is here. They besieged the village and took prisoners."

Gasping, Mayura rose a shaking hand to her heart.

Jinya grabbed Yuki's shoulders and shook her, "Who was with you in the village? Where are they?"

"Rokuro," Yuki squeaked. She started sobbing and groaned out, "They took Rokuro."

A/N: What do you think? Is it good enough for a contest? Are you excited to learn what happens next or is it too generic? Please, talk to this author. :P