#yes I stuck an okami reference in there; you can’t stop me

[blue-and-dog]

His Father’s Eyes (A Sengoku Basara One-Shot)

(Feat: Ishida Mitsunari)

(Alternative title: Mitsun & Son)

(Illustration is a commission by @nekkyousagi​)

Their small home was deep in the mountains. Hidden away from prying eyes. Or any eyes, really.

A small, humble hideaway. Away from the chaos of human society; away from pointing fingers and anguished screams for vengeance; away from pitying gazes.

Koromaru let out a soft grunt as he felt a wet nose nudge his cheek; opening his eyes, the boy found a furry white face staring back at him.


“Shiranui...” he whispered, reaching up and placing a hand on the dog’s head as he sat up, looking around the room. His mother, younger brother and younger sister were all still asleep; his father was missing. Then again, he rarely ever saw his father asleep in bed; whenever he saw him asleep, his father had usually nodded off in some odd place around the house. Carefully, Koromaru crept out of the room, Shiranui slowly padding after him; when he entered the main area of the home, he saw his father at the front door, in the process of closing it behind him; he had a small knife sheathed at his side, and a bow and quiver on his back.

He paused as he spotted his son over his shoulder.

“...did I wake you?” he asked. Koromaru shook his head. “...I’m going to check the traps. I won’t be long.”

“Can I come?” Koromaru asked gently. His father paused again.

“I suppose,” he finally replied. Koromaru smiled a bit at this, nodding to Shiranui as the pair followed his father out the door, closing it behind them.

Ishida Mitsunari. The Dark King. Long since gone into hiding with his family since the Tokugawa Shogunate had been established. If anything, he would have died on the battlefield, in his lord’s name, where he felt he belonged.

But...by that point, he already had other obligations.

Koromaru’s father rarely smiled or, quite frankly, changed expression. There was an almost defeated emptiness to him; though he was alive, and with a wife and a legacy, he seemed still very lost and aimless. Koromaru’s mother once confided in him that his father had lost a great deal.

What sorts of things did he lose, he had asked.

A lot of things that meant everything to him. When he is ready, he will tell you, she had replied.

As Koromaru trailed after his father, watching his lean frame in the morning sun peeking through the treetops, he almost seemed like a spent wick, or discarded torch—a flame that had long since been extinguished.

In that moment, Shiranui suddenly took off at a sprint, vanishing like the wind around the bend.

“Seems he found his breakfast,” Mitsunari remarked. Silence. Mitsunari glanced at Koromaru, then kept walking.

Did he just try to start a conversation...? Koromaru thought.

“....like the wolf from the story,” Koromaru spoke up; Mitsunari seemed to twitch, almost in surprise, then looked back at him again, “Shiranui in the story was so fast he could evade nearly anything.”

“...yes.”

A classic tale told many times by Koromaru’s mother, to the wide-eyed attention of her children; the tale of the mysterious white wolf who helped a hero defeat an eight-headed serpent.

“...father, do you like that story?” Koromaru asked.

“...I don’t really care for fairy tales,” Mitsunari replied as he stepped over a creek; Koromaru instead walked right through it, “Reality is enough for me.”

“Really? But you listen when mom tells the story to the rest of us....”

“There’s no harm in it. Besides, you all like it. Enough to name the dog after it, even.”

Come to think of it, Mitsunari was usually off to the side doing something else whenever his wife entertained the children. Preparing traps to place outside, looking out at the stars....or cleaning that sword.

It was something he treasured more than anything; Koromaru’s mother had warned him and his siblings many times to never touch or play with it. The one time Koromaru had grabbed it out of curiosity was the one time he saw the light of unbridled rage in his father’s eyes. He snatched the sword from his son’s hand with one violent swipe; his knuckles were white from his grip on the scabbard. But, in that moment, he grit his teeth, clenched his fist, lowered his head, and sent Koromaru out of the room with a single-worded command. When Koromaru saw him next, he was merely reminded not to touch his father’s things. His father’s eyes were dull again.

His recollection was broken by the sound of a faint snap; he looked down to see his father kneeling by a snare trap, picking up a now-dead rabbit.

“It’s a good size,” Mitsunari remarked to nobody in particular as he raised the rabbit to eye-level. He glanced to Koromaru, then looked up as he heard Shiranui’s footfalls; the dog came to a stop before him. “I take it you’re quite finished?”

The dog merely sneezed. Mitsunari snorted, then looked back to his son. “We’ll see if we can get some pheasants, too.”

“I don’t see them around here much...” Koromaru replied.

“There’s an area lower on the mountain. I usually prefer to go down there with just Shiranui, to flush them out. Typically the sun is barely up when I go down there...but we should be fine.”

There shouldn’t be anyone traveling around there, he thought. Please, please, let there be no prying eyes.

“Come on,” he continued, “I’ll show you, but you have to be quiet when we get there. They frighten easily.”

Koromaru had faintly seen a glimmer of something in his father’s eyes as he spoke more freely. Like he was letting his son in on his methods. A master passing down his wisdom. Mitsunari placed the dead rabbit in a sack, passing it to his son to carry.

Mitsunari began to lead Koromaru down a winding path, Shiranui bringing up the rear; the trip was made in (mostly) silence, until...

“Koro.” Mitsunari spoke up. Koromaru flinched, then looked at him in surprise. Mitsunari seemed briefly surprised at *his* surprise.

“Koro...?” Koromaru echoed.

“That’s what Tatsuhime calls you, isn’t it? Is there a problem?”

True, his younger sister preferred to shorten his name. But Mitsunari didn’t seem the type to use nicknames, so why...?

“N-no. It’s fine. What is it?”

“...why did you ask to come with me today? You’ve been up around the same time I was leaving many times before and you’ve never asked to come.”

The question caused Koromaru to pause for a moment. Then, he swallowed. “I....”

“...is something the matter?” Mitsunari stopped as well, turning to face his son.

“..no...it’s just...there’s so much I want to ask you...” he admitted. “I just...can never think of a good time...or something comes up...”

“You wanted to speak to me alone,” Mitsunari concluded. There was that glint of something in his eyes again. Surprise? Intrigue?

“...yeah.”

“...I see. Let’s see what we can catch, then I’ll see if I can answer your questions.”

The pair reached a clearing lower on the mountain, bathed in the morning sun; the brush was twitching with life. Mitsunari removed the bow from his back, nocking an arrow.

“Watch,” he whispered. He clicked his tongue; Shiranui was off in a flash, his white form cleaving through the brush as critters began to flee their shelter. A flash of feathers, and Mitsunari exhaled and fired; the arrow found its target, sending a pheasant crashing to the ground as Shiranui retrieved its carcass moments later, bringing it back to the pair. Mitsunari took the pheasant from Shiranui, looking back at Koromaru.

“Well?”

Koromaru blinked, then nodded. “...I wish I could hunt like that. You’re amazing.”

Mitsunari scoffed. “I’ve missed plenty of times. Archery isn’t my strong suit. Do you want to try?”

“Huh? But Shiranui already scared away the animals...”

“It’ll just be a practice shot.” Mitsunari held out the bow, staring hard at his son. Koromaru’s eyes met his piercing gaze; something had ignited in his father’s eyes. Fascination? A hint of excitement? After a moment’s hesitation, Koromaru took the bow.

“You’re going to aim for the knothole on that tree over there,” Mitsunari pointed, “Start by turning your body sideways.”

As Koromaru followed his father’s instruction, Mitsunari crouched behind him; he reached out and grabbed his son’s left foot. “Relax,” he instructed, as he adjusted Koromaru’s footing to a wider stance. Helping Koromaru nock an arrow, he took his son’s right hand. “You have to hold it with three fingers, tight as you can. You’re going to draw it until your right hand is behind your ear.”

“Okay,” Koromaru muttered, nodding once. Mitsunari guided his hands as he drew the bowstring, past his right ear.

“Steady,” Mitsunari whispered. “Exhale....and fire.”

Right as Koromaru released he string, he felt a burning hot pain at his ear, dropping the bow and grabbing his ear as he doubled over in pain.

“You held it too close to your ear,” Mitsunari stated as he picked up the bow, “A beginner mistake. Understandable, but I’m certain you won’t be making that mistake again. Take a few deep breaths.”

Koromaru did as he was told, breathing heavily, but finally deeply, until he stood up straight, wiping his eyes. He saw Mitsunari pulling the arrow out of the tree.

“You missed the knothole, but you did hit the tree. Not bad for a first shot.” Mitsunari walked over to his son, who was now trying to keep Shiranui from licking his face.

“Ah—!” Koromaru pushed the dog back. “Stop! Your breath smells like death!”

“Death smells far worse,” Mitsunari remarked, “Come on. We’re going home.”

“Yes....” Koromaru picked up the bag now containing the rabbit and pheasant. “Will this be enough?”

“It’ll be plenty. We still have to see what we can harvest, too. You’ll be helping me with that.”

His father was much more talkative than usual, now. With a brief whistle, Mitsunari nodded to Shiranui, who began to follow the pair back up the mountain path.

“Father,” Koromaru began, “can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is. But I did agree to answer whatever question you had, so go ahead.” Mitsunari didn’t look back, continuing to lead his son home.

“...are you sad?”

“...how do you mean?”

“...you never smile, and...your eyes always seem kind of....” he struggled for the word.

“Kind of what?”

“...empty.”

Mitsunari stopped walking at that, but didn’t turn around.

“...I’m not quite sure how to answer that, Koro.”

“...Mother said you’ve been through a lot and lost a lot, but...”

“...those are details you don’t need to know. They don’t matter now. But...just because I don’t smile, doesn’t mean I’m not content. I have you and your siblings, and I have your mother. There are few other things I could ask for.”

The answer seemed almost...half-hearted. But, there was still something there in his eyes, as he looked back at his son.

“When you become a man, there will come a day that there will be no one to give you instruction and guide you, and every decision you make will affect those around you. I have made decisions both good and bad. And people have suffered for it...perhaps rightfully so. Despite my attempts otherwise, sometimes these dark memories, these wretched reminders, come creeping back into the front of my mind, clawing their way back in front of my eyes. In those moments...I suppose I am sad.”

Koromaru listened to his father, frowning and dropping his shoulders a bit.

Then, Mitsunari spoke again.

“But, it’s funny.”

Koromaru tilted his head, as Mitsunari, in a rare moment of affection, placed a hand atop his boy’s head.

“Up until now, I hadn’t really thought about that today.”

Mitsunari pulled away, continuing up the path, Shiranui padding after him. Koromaru watched him in silence, then followed after.

To try and nurture that flicker in his father’s eyes.