Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2126382.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      the_GazettE
  Relationship:
      Reita/Uruha_(the_GazettE), Kai/Uruha_(the_GazettE)
  Character:
      Reita_(the_GazettE), Kai_(the_GazettE), Uruha_(the_GazettE)
  Additional Tags:
      Minor_Character_Death, Violence, Blood, Underage_Sex, Alternate_Universe
      -_Historical, Drama, Romance, Japanese_Culture, Edo_Period, Samurai, Age
      Difference, Older_Man/Younger_Man, Implied/Referenced_Underage
      Prostitution, 17th_Century
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-08-12 Words: 3635
****** The Wakashû & The Rōnin ******
by kyoselflove
Summary
     The beginning of the Edo Period, Japan, one young samurai breaks the
     honor of conduct and awaits his cowardly death.
Notes
     I used many Japanese terms, while some may be obvious some probably
     aren't, so just hover over the italic word with your cursor for a
     definition.
     “Why in the world did ‘the man who loved love’ waste such vast
     quantities of gold and silver on his myriad of women, when the only
     pleasure and excitement to be found is in male love?” 
     - 井原 西鶴 (Iharha Saikaku), 1687.
[twar]
One would say this place was beautiful, such a stunning place to die.  The sun
was just coming above the horizon, spilling golden rays over the luscious green
landscape.  A morning fog settling over the land, only few trees littered the
field.  His socks were soaked from the damp ground, white silk stained with
earthly tones, and the sandals once underneath his feet long lost in the woods
behind him.
Clutching his side, he fell back against the first tree that had come to his
vision, slowly sliding to the ground, wincing at the pain in his abdomen.
 Lifting his hand off his side, which was covered in his own blood, he
inspected the damage.  The cut was large; with every breath he took more blood
poured out of the open gash.  He cried out with a whimper as he touched the
wound, surely he would bleed out soon.
The thought that he could have died honorably instead of like a coward, hiding
away, seeking the shelter of a tree, crossed his mind, causing him to let out a
dry laugh.  Placing his hand back over his wound, he tried to add pressure, to
allow maybe a few more moments of his regretful existence.
As he played with the moist moss at the foot of the tree with his fingertips, a
distraction to stay calm, he began to wonder if this was all worth it.  That he
may never know, it would take a good amount of thinking to come up with an
answer, time which he did not have.  But giving into the thought, he could have
been in a dry home, lying in the warmth of a woman’s embrace, instead he sat
here waiting for his untimely death because of one man.  Though it was unfair
to blame this on the man because he would never come to love the embrace of a
woman.
Again he let out an empty laugh, a man he thought he once loved but now he knew
that was not true, well not in the sense of lovers.  If he had loved Kai, as a
lover should, then he would have already been dead.  He was assumed to perform
seppuku, to keep his honor as a samurai.  Kai was his nenja, a mentor and
lover, now he was gone.  A tear slid down his heated cheek, long over due, no
longer could he hold it in.  The more he silently cried, the feeling of his
being became lighter, his body no longer feeling heavy, the pain in his side
numbing.  This was it, the cowardly death that he had chosen.
A rustling of the tall grass to his left made him jerk out of his daze on
instinct.  Impulsively he grabbed his wakizashifrom hisobi, his katana gone
from the last battle, lodged into another man’s neck next to where Kai’s body
had been abandoned.  Holding the sword in his right hand, while his other still
clutched his side desperately, he waited.
Coming to stand in front of him was an older man, with no embroidery of his
clan on the cloth of his hitatare. His hair was short, dark brown rather than
black like his own, chopped right below his ears; it waved around his face with
strands astray as it was left unkempt.  The man’s eyes were dark, almost black
and looked at him sharply.  He could feel his heart skip a beat as he looked at
the man, was it because he was dying?  This man was most certainly a rōnin.
His arm was beginning to fall when his sword became heavier as his vision began
to flicker.  The man before him held his katana by his side stained red, he
watched as the blood dripped off the blade gradually on to the grass below. 
Would this rōningive him a quick death?  He closed his eyes, leaning against
the tree trunk, dropping his sword to the ground.  The chaotic thoughts roaming
his mind cleared, as he relived a memory that had happened only hours ago.
They had defeated another clan, Kai was smiling wide showing off his dimples
that ornamented his face, a physical trait that he loved.  To celebrate, they
went to the kabukitheater in which the night was flourished with sake and
laughter.  The other samurai’sbetrothed sexually with the young kabukiactors,
as they had not engaged in shudôlike Kai and himself.  Kai had turned to him,
telling him he should have been a kabukiactor instead of a samurai. He laughed,
and replied, that would be better for Kai so he could take on other male
lovers.  Kai’s smile had lessened, the lovely dimples showing no more.  He also
added that he was a dreadful singer.
It was only a short time later that night; he lay in bed feeling the gentle
caresses from his lover.  The way Kai’s scarred muscles felt under his touch,
his sweat slicked skin leaning against his own.  His kimonosticking to his
skin, falling off his shoulders as he rode Kai, feeling the man buried deep
inside of him.  Afterwards, Kai tickled his ear with his deep voice, sweet
assurances, the promise of him never letting go of him even when he comes of
age.  He smiled with a genuine laugh and placed his lips on Kai’s, and then
they fell asleep in a tight embrace.
When he opened his eyes, no longer did he feel the warmth on his back but
instead the excruciating pain in his side.  As he sat up he groaned his head
also had an ache.  Taking in his surroundings, he was placed on a thin mat on
the ground with a makeshift shelter above him made of twigs and brush.  A wet
cloth was on his head, which he took off, sliding it over his tired face,
relishing in the feel of the coolness upon his skin.
A movement out of the corner of his eye made him jump back, instantly he cursed
out when the throbbing radiated throughout his body.  The rōninwas sitting
across from him with a pot set over a bundle of glowing embers as they crackled
loudly.  The man shifted his gaze from the flames to him, “Take it easy.”  The
voice was rough and coldly authoritative.
He relaxed back onto the mat, not feeling any threat from the other at the
moment.  Though he kept his eyes lingering on the man as he brought the pot of
water to boil.  Often people thought of him as naïve but in fact he was always
just a bit too curious.  “Who are you?”
“Reita.”  The man said with a jarring tone.
Raising his brow in surprise, he decided to risk another question.  “Why?”  He
wanted to know why this man would be willing to save a complete stranger on the
brink of death while the fields of Japan were plagued with the deceased.
The man, Reita, said nothing as he poured the boiled water into a cup to make
tea.  It was then that he realized that he was completely bare, his kimono
stripped from him.  Cloth wrapped around his abdomen to keep his wound clean. 
A tinge of pink graced his cheeks as he snuggled more into the blanket over
him.
A nudge to his uninjured side brought him from his thoughts. “Here.”  Reita had
brought him a steaming cup of tea, smelling of ginger.  The scent immediately
brought a calm sense of being over him.
“Thank you.”  He said, watching the steam stray away from the cup as he blew
the tea to cool.
Reita nodded, then sat back down across from him, the man’s eyes were analyzing
him.  Those black eyes were full of lust and despair.  It was what he saw in
most of the men that looked at him.  The older men loved his slender, boyish
frame, his feminine face reminding them of their wives or past lovers.  Kai had
told him once that a boy’s love was pure to that of a women’s, a woman always
thinking about her own self than to tend to the needs of a man.  He remembered
laughing, telling Kai that he would say anything to have him in his bed which
Kai scoffed in reply, saying that it was true; once again showing those
adorable dimples.
“What is your name?  How old are you?”
The rōnin’svoice brought him back to the present.  Suddenly he felt tired, he
let out a sigh and said wearily, “Uruha, Fourteen.”
“Where is your lord?”  Reita asked as cleaned the crusted blood off his katana.
Uruha shifted to sit up, ignoring the agony of his wound.  For a moment he
wondered where they were, if this little camp was near the dead bodies of his
clan.  “Dead.  All of them are dead.”  His voice came out quiet as if sad at
their loss, but the fact that he had no where to go troubled him more, poor
Kai, even his own lover could no longer mourn for him.  It just occurred to
him, now he was a rōninto be forever shamed. A wakashû no more.
The sun was setting; he pondered how long he had been asleep.  He turned
towards Reita, who was looking at his naked chest; the remains of the love
making with Kai had left.  Pink blemishes scattered along the pale skin of his
neck and chest.  Reita stood up, walked over to him and then sat by his side.
“The one who did this to you.”  Reita said softly, brushing his rough
fingertips across the bruised skin of Uruha’s chest.  “Is he dead?”
Uruha let out a moan at the touch, “Yes.”
Reita put a hand on his chest gently pushing him to lie down on the mat.  Uruha
felt his heart thudding in his chest, the ache in his stomach replaced with
gentle flutters.  Was the rōnintaking his body as payment for saving his life? 
The calloused fingertips stayed on his skin, tracing the tender love marks left
by Kai.  In this moment, that would be just fine with him.  He felt Reita’s
thin lips grazing over his neck causing his breath to stop in anticipation. 
Reita lay on his side, stroking Uruha’s raven long unshaven hair that fell
against the mat.  “If you died, your beauty would have been wasted.”  The man
whispered against his skin, making him shudder.
Uruha gasped, he felt more sensitive to the touches than he ever had before. 
Was this why the man saved his life, because of his beauty?  He reached out,
touching Reita’s face feeling the rough stubble on his chin.  The man was
incredibly handsome, even though his appearance was aged and rugged.
Reita captured his lips, moving sensually amongst them catching him by
surprise.  He let out a squeak before pushing back into the man’s firm lips. 
The warm blanket was removed from him as the rōnincrawled over his now exposed
figure, gently pressing into his body carefully preventing stress on his
wound.  Their lips still connected, Uruha teasingly licked Reita’s cracked
lips.  It was so quiet that he was sure he could actually hear his heart
beating rapidly.
The man pulled away to continue placing kisses along the nape of his neck. 
Uruha placed a hand on the back of the other’s head, encouraging him to do as
he pleased.  As Reita sucked on his flesh, making marks of his own, his coarse
hands roamed over his smooth skin, avoiding the injury down to his thighs. 
Uruha let out a loud moan, his breathing picking up, the rōnin’stouch was
scorching his skin.
Shouting in the distance could be heard, Reita instantly placing his hand over
Uruha’s mouth, both of them stilling all movements.  They listened, again more
hollers came, closer this time.  He looked towards the opening of their
makeshift shelter to see that nighttime had already fallen upon the land.
Reita pulled his hand away, placing his index finger against his own lips
before standing, and grabbing his katana. He stood at the opening of their
shelter, looking out.  The man came back towards him, handing over the
wakizashi. Taking the sword in his hand, he sat up, would be such a pity to be
saved then slaughtered.
With that Reita left the shelter, leaving him all alone.  This was the one
point in his life he felt generally afraid, but not for him, but Reita.  He
just met the man, but he feared for his safety and wished he would not end up
like Kai.  Reita was over twice his age, full of experience, but even the best
samurai’shad fallen in battle.
Uruha’s eyes fell on his crimson stained kimono,which he snatched off the
ground trying to put it on hastily.  As he tied his obihe heard the clank of
swords with heated snarls near by.  He raised himself off the ground with shaky
legs, grimacing at the soreness again but disregarding it there after.
Outside he waited a moment as his eyes adjusted with the darkness of night. 
The sounds of battle coming from his right, he cautiously made his way over to
the commotion.  The bare soles of his feet silenced the crunch of the grass. 
Unsheathing his sword, the reflection of the moon gleaming off its surface, he
raised it high, ready for an attack.  As he walked on through the woods, he
could barely see Reita up on ahead, fighting three other men.
He picked up the pace moving faster, regrettably making more noise.  A man
jumped out behind him, a katanaswinging at him, intending for a fatal blow.
Dodging out of the way, momentarily his wound forgotten, until the searing pain
shot up his stomach, making him stumble.  His left arm was grabbed and twisted
behind his back, he screamed out in pain.  He felt the cool edge of a blade
against his neck; he closed his eyes, waiting for the end.
The man behind him let out a grunt, the blade on his neck fell to the ground. 
Opening his eyes, Reita stood in front of him with a bloody katana and a smirk
on his face.  Uruha fell on to the rōnin, strong arms pulling him into a close
squeeze.  The smell of blood filled his nostrils as he breathed in Reita’s
scent burying his face in the man’s neck.
Movement caught his attention behind Reita, quickly he held him closer, left
hand on the back of his shoulder, as shoved his sword into the chest of the man
behind Reita.  The enemy fell to the ground gurgling on his own blood before
becoming silent.  Reita looked at him wide eyed, then smiled as he pressed
their lips together in a raring kiss.
“You should have stayed.”  Reita murmured against his lips.
“Then you would be a dead man.”  He reasoned.
“You distracted me.”  The man said smiling wide with a laugh.
Uruha smiled back, but it faltered, as he felt faint, he slumped on to Reita. 
The older man scooped him up into his arms with ease, walking them back to the
shelter.  He draped his arms around Reita’s neck and let his eyes close.
The first rays of the morning sun hit his eyes as he opened them slowly,
feeling around next to him in a daze.  Reita was holding him loosely asleep; he
smiled as he felt the heat from the man.  Once again he lay naked, he was
startled to feel Reita’s bare chest against his back.
“Good morning.”  The gruff voice came quietly.
Uruha smiled as he turned to lie on his back looking into the man’s black
eyes.  They locked their lips in a gentle kiss; Reita pushed away a loose
strand of Uruha’s hair out of his hazel eyes.  “Are you well enough to walk?”
He nodded against Reita’s muscular chest, tracing a long scar right above his
nipple.  Uruha sighed in contentment, wishing to stay in their current
positions for a while longer.  Unfortunately Reita slipped out of his hold and
began packing up his supplies.  Sitting up, he looked over at the man, admiring
the view of his little rump.  Then the bare skin was out of view as Reita
dressed himself completely.  Turning towards Uruha, he threw an unsoiled grey
kimonoon his lap.  Uruha felt the fabric beneath his fingertips, it was not
silk.
After getting clothed, everything packed; they began the walk to Edo.  They
avoided the main road, traveling between the trees and vast fields.  Half of
the day had already passed when Uruha stopped to sit on a rock to catch his
breath. His bare feet were sore from the rough terrain and the wound on his
side started to bleed through the cloth.
“How much longer?”  Uruha said despairingly.
“We should arrive before night.”  The man said taking a sip of water from his
pack before giving it to Uruha.
Uruha was about to thank him but his stomach churned, a mix of water and bile
came from his mouth, spraying the grass in front of him.  Within an instant,
his skin became clammy and felt as if it were set on fire.  Reita held him up
as he began to slump, his mind becoming fuzzy.
“You have come down with a fever.”  He said as he felt Uruha’s forehead.
He tried to find his voice to give a reply but found that he could not.  Once
again the rōninpicked him up as if he weighed nothing and carried him along. 
Uruha tried to hold on but he had no strength left in him.
Once he came out of his coma state, he was on a futon in what looked to be at a
ryokan.   The room was plain; a small table with floor pillows was situated on
the other side next to the sliding doors.  Reita came to his side with a cup of
what smelled to be ginger tea.  He smiled at the scent and gesture, taking a
small sip before putting it aside.
“Are we in Edo?”  His voice was scratchy.
Reita nodded, sitting on the soft floor.  “How do you feel?”
His bowed lips turned up, “Better.  Thank you.”
Feeling the cloth around his abdomen he knew that the other man had changed the
bandage, the pain had decreased.  When he looked up, he was met with those
black eyes full of desire.  Their lips together again as they pulled each other
close.  The smell of blood gone, now replaced with the aroma of sulfur.  Reita
sucked on his bottom lip, nipping at it lightly causing him to whimper.
They arranged their bodies in a similar position with Reita over him careful to
add no pressure to his wound.  Reita’s lips traveled from his own down his
neck, not long after he was showered with kisses all over his body.  Now he was
withering underneath this man that he had become so fond of in such a short
span of time.  His touches and kisses left his skin feeling burned with
pleasure.  He may be a coward, shunned from everyone that looks his way but
this moment was all worth it.
Lips were back at his ear as he felt the hot breath caress him, “I have been
alone so long.”
Wrapping his arms around Reita’s waist, resting his long legs on the man’s
hips, pushing himself at the tip of his erection, he whispered, “Not any
longer.”
With nothing more than the spit from his mouth and the fluid leaking from his
cock, Reita pressed into him.  Uruha could not help but tense up causing pain
to his wound, making him cry out.  Reita whispered in his ear, to relax and
breathe, which helped him greatly.
Reita held his hips down as he pushed in deeper, Uruha whimpered, closing his
eyes.  Moments passed until he felt slow hard thrusts, then all concept of time
was gone from him.  The pace was kept almost unbearably gentle, the pain all
over his body long forgotten as waves of pleasure took over him.  He took a
hold of Reita’s hand off his hip, bringing it to his neglected erection.  Reita
complied giving his hardened length sluggish strokes in time with the thrusts
into his body.
Uruha found those addictive lips with his own, colliding clumsily together as
Reita’s thrusts became more powerful and desperate.  “Please.”  Uruha moaned,
his disregarded wound open again, the blood seeped from the cloth dripping down
his body, completely unnoticed.
A groan escaped Reita, as he repeated the words Uruha loved to hear.  “You are
so beautiful.”
The strokes on his own cock became quicker; he could already feel his release
building inside him ready to burst out at any moment.  A few more tugs on his
erection was all it took before he was spilling his seed, mixing in with the
blood that now coated them both.  Uruha paid no attention, as he felt better
than he ever had in his life.  He could feel Reita fill his insides with his
release, making him feel complete.
Reita collapsed on top of him out of breath, the added pressure snapping Uruha
away from his high as he cried out in agony.  The rōninpeeled himself off of
him, cleaning up the semen and blood off both of their stomachs.  After
carefully bandaging his wound, they lay together naked in their bliss, as they
were locked into an affectionate embrace.  A place where Uruha always felt he
belonged.
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