thehometree | Glimmer, glitter, shine...

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Glimmer, glitter, shine...

One by one, new adventurers now arrive in the Tree. As one gain wings and rises to the second floor, another light brings in the next person. Soon, a steady stream of people from all kinds of worlds, times and realities come to join the others. Whether confused, angry, excited or scared, your arrival is welcomed with nothing but joy as the fireflies and glow worms descend to greet their new friends.

The Tree offers no explanation and no reason, but the truth is undeniable.

As you will soon realize, it isn't easy to be tiny.

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Takatora huffed a rusty laugh, before he shrugged and put his own wings to work. He still felt dubious about their ability to bear his large form, but that was mental rather than physical -- he felt no actual strain.

"I'm coming. Try not to crash."

Which was a concern for him too, of course. From a practical viewpoint this was more dangerous than their first times swinging real blades. Hopefully the strange gem that gave them these wings also instilled in them some slither of instinct.

Probably not.

"I merely intend to go with the flow."

Of course. Not the most reassuring of words, but they were pure Yoshitsugu, and really, wasn't a crash likely at some point? If not in their first attempt at flying then probably in their third, fourth or fifth... at some point it would happen.

Glancing over his shoulder just once, Yoshitsugu immediately sped off without even trying to start slowly. The firefly, apparently already attached, took off itself in pursuit.

Yoshitsugu being himself only made the inevitable mid-air collision all the more likely.

That was Yoshitsugu through and through, wasn't it? No survival instinct. Takatora sighed and followed. The pace was faster than he would have liked but there was no other way to keep up with his friend. He kept a little distance between them, that said, in hopes of avoiding barrelling into each other. His own balance wasn't brilliant and he didn't fly paticularly steadily or straight, but there was no other way to improve except through practice.

"If you break something, you'll have deserved it."

He could only hope bruises were the most in store, rather than serious injury -- and that if anyone got hurt, that it was him.

Right now he wasn't emotionally prepared for Yoshitsugu to get hurt.

Yoshitsugu said nothing in reply, though he smiled to himself beneath the facecloth. This was indeed like old times.

There was nothing encouraging about the way he zipped through the air; usually a man of effortless grace and body awareness, his flight pathway right was extremely erratic and uncontrolled. He didn't barrel into anyone, however, and there was at least an obvious direction he was headed in.

Up. Above the gem floor, away from the place where they had stumbled into this odd tree, and to whatever awaited them there.

(Hopefully homes and not immediate danger and peril, though of course the possibility could not be discounted).

Quickly disappearing up into the gap, and out of Takatora's view for a moment, Yoshitsugu attempted to land and only succeeded if one could call 'falling over the moment one hit the ground rather clumsily' a success. Fortunately he made little sound about it and was quick to recover, drawing himself up into a sitting position and dusting himself down.

He was going to end up despairing over Yoshitsugu's lack of concern for himself. Takatora knew it.

He managed to very briefly land on his feet once he reached the next floor, but it was a short-lived victory as his momentum was too great and his balance completely off. All of his mass and weight tumbled straight into Yoshitsugu with a wordless exclamation.

Not the most promising start.

So much for sitting up; knocked straight back down, Yoshitsugu was still and quiet for a long moment before laughing quietly, the sound genuine and fond. How was it that this strange situation was fast becoming so familiar? Takatora was Takatora, no matter where they were, and this tripping over one another like some out of their earliest days of learning to fight at one another's side.

They had not always been perfectly in tune.

"Am I fated to lay forever on this floor, or do you intend to move enough that I might be capable of standing again?"

Though Yoshitsugu had always spoken in that same impish manner.

"Don't tempt me," Takatora growled, his cheeks faintly coloured by embarrassment.

Clearly Yoshitsugu was none the worse for wear.

There was more prodding with elbows and knees than was strictly necessary as he got off of his friend -- but that too was like old times, long before they'd learned the true meaning of sacrifice.

Still, once he was up, Takatora took Yoshitsugu by the arm and pulled him back up onto his feet.

It's good for them to be like this, considering Takatora's current state; Yoshitsugu hummed, amused, letting the memories of their early Azai days wash through him and settle in like a comforting blanket.

He was technically dead now, so why not allow himself a moment of nostalgia? No doubt he would be meeting Lady Oichi and Lord Nagamasa again in time.

"So you were tempted to keep me pinned to the ground?"

Yoshitsugu didn't even look at Takatora when he said that, instead bowing his head briefly in thanks before marching straight off to the nearest door and opening it up. There were four of them on this floor, and judging by what Bucky had said each one led to a house.

Nobody was inside, so he went straight in with a manner that would suggest to anyone he already owned the place.

Takatora's brain momentarily stuttered at those words, and he sputtered, his face burning -- really, it was fortunate for his remaining dignity that Yoshitsugu had simply wandered off.

He shook his head and followed his friend's lead again.

In their time apart he had forgotten the full experience of spending time in Yoshitsugu's company. Funny, how memory worked. Yet even being teased as he was, his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

Unlike Yoshitsugu's lack of care, Takatora took the extra time to make sure that there were no obvious signs of the house they'd just entered being occupied.

"Just look at this place..." he said in wonder, as he idly inspected the structure.

First waiting for the firefly to also come inside, then shutting the door very firmly behind them, Yoshitsugu set his saihai, pack and sliced facecloth down on the first surface he passed.

Everything in here was a far cry from the kind of home they were used to but made with expert care. Either this tree had been home to another kind of folk not that long ago or had been well prepared to house the new arrivals, with either prospect throwing up many more questions than it gave answers.

Which was why the solution wasn't worth contemplating right now.

"We have been washed into a myth, our souls thrown into an entirely new current."

He wandered towards the wooden table and idly ran a finger across the leaf that served as a cloth. There was what looked like a small cup on top, carved from some kind of... nut? Beneath his make-shift handtowel facecloth, Yoshitsugu smiled to himself. The word for all this was 'endearing.'

Glancing over his shoulder, Yoshitsugu watched his friend for a moment while thinking quietly before saying:

"Sit down, Takatora."

Takatora halted his inspection and returned his attention back to Yoshitsugu, blinking at the (to his knowledge) sudden request.

"I'm not your trained pet," he said, with no actual bite.

Once he and Yoshitsugu had been perfectly in sync -- while those days were long gone he still knew his friend well enough to guess at Yoshitsugu's trail of thoughts, and --

He took a seat heavily as his mind reminded him of the enormity of the situation. He slouched forward over the table as though dragged down by the phantom weight of his thoughts. What if it was only an extremely realistic dream? His instincts said otherwise, but the fear was there. Abruptly, it felt like everything was spiralling out of his control. Though the truth was that it was long beyond that point, for better and for worse.

"Shit. What do we do?"

Edited 2015-04-04 23:22 (UTC)

Yoshitsugu took a seat himself, facing Takatora, and closed his eyes for a moment. Right now he was frankly tired himself, obviously in a physical way but mentally as well. Despite the many rumours that were believed about him he was human and had, well, died.

Sekigahara had been a trying battle for all involved, in every way possible.

"Talk."

Pausing, Yoshitsugu raised his hands to remove his hat again and place it on the table. Then he took off his clawed gauntlets, gloves and, yes, his makeshift facecloth. Here in private, just the two of them, he felt quite comfortable doing so. More to the point, an honest baring of himself was something Yoshitsugu perhaps owed Takatora.

"And then sleep. Further plans can wait, Takatora."

For a long moment Takatora stared at Yoshitsugu's bare face, taking it in, before he ran a hand over his own face and sighed heavily.

"What is there to say? The only mystery is this place. You didn't exactly leave me with any questions. Our last encounter was final in every sense of the word."

Blunt words, but true: he knew that Yoshitsugu had planned it all knowing that Takatora would do as Yoshitsugu asked, and later treat his remains with respect. Yoshitsugu knew how it would have impacted him. It wasn't as though Takatora was even left wondering 'why?' -- Yoshitsugu had chosen to die for Mitsunari over living for him. It had been definitive.

"It's been years, for my part. I learned how to cope."

That first year following Sekigahara had been hell. The only blessing was that it had left the Tokugawa so busy that he'd had no choice but to function until he was ready to accept reality for what it was, and necessity became choice again. Even if it felt dulled compared to how it once did, he found pride and purpose in his duty.

So why was he afraid of the nightmares returning, now that Yoshitsugu was here with him, returned to the living?

What Yoshitsugu wanted to talk about was a lot less... heavy than that, though he had somewhat anticipated that things would go this way. Takatora wasn't one to expose the delicate parts of himself very often, but faced with this it was probably hard to do anything but dwell on his wounds.

Tilting his head, Yoshitsugu reached out with one hand to grab one of Takatora's wrists and pull it close to him. His expression was somehow as serene and calm as usual, except that being able to see his lips exposed Yoshitsugu's content smile.

"I am very happy that you gave me an end, Takatora, though I did not deserve it."

Turning Takatora's hand over, Yoshitsugu briefly kissed his palm before letting the hand go in full and straightening up on his chair. Of course Takatora had coped, he'd had every faith in that. When one put so much into the idea of living on being the greatest thing one could do it had to be the case.

Whether Takatora would cope a second time, however? That was less certain.

"If there's nothing else to discuss on the matter, then we should discuss the beds. Only screens divide them into different areas."

He waved a hand dismissively.

"Unless you wish to sleep in your own area? If so we can leave them as they are."

There was an intake of breath at that gesture, before Takatora shook his head at Yoshitsugu's following comments. It was simple: he did not want to be alone. Though he had no plans to voice it, he needed the reminder that this was all real, and not the manifestation of his lonely mind.

"No," he answered, and pushed himself up. "Come on. Let's get to work."

As expected; they had known each other too long for Yoshitsugu to be wrong about this. He stood up slowly and stepped away from the table, glancing around the room as he did so.

"Four beds and a multitude of screens." Pressing his hands together, Yoshitsugu closed his eyes for a moment and bowed slowly. "Is it quaint work for an architect? I'll leave all direction in your hands anyway."

For just a single, rare moment, he looked as tired as he felt.

Takatora watched Yoshitsugu closely -- really, who could blame him for it? But that rare lapse in bearing forced him to consider Yoshitsugu's position. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted to know what it was like to return from death. Surely it took a toll.

"You should choose a bed," he insisted, ushering his friend along. "I'll handle the screens on my own."

There was only one way for Yoshitsugu to respond to that. He adopted a tone of obvious mock-seriousness when he said:

"I'm not your trained pet."

Choosing a bed was an appealing idea, however, and if Takatora was going to insist on doing the arranging all on his own then Yoshitsugu would do as his friend wanted him to. The chosen bed ended up being the closest one, which he walked over and fell onto with just a hint of exaggerated drama.

Takatora rolled his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, amused. He began to move the screens with a specific configuration in mind. As he did so, he replied.

"You'd be the pampered pet that had trained its owner."

They were probably going to have roommates at some point, but Yoshitsugu felt no need to point that out to Takatora. His friend would surely take that in account. Instead he laughed quietly and closed his eyes.

"So that makes you my owner?"

It was almost a skill, the way Yoshitsugu could keep his expression so straight and his tone so level when he teased as he did next.

"Are you going to pet me, then?"

Takatora made a faint strangled sound in his throat in response to that, his wings twitching, and a touch of colour spread across his cheeks. For a moment he pretended to be more engrossed in his work than he was to give his wayward thoughts time to return to order.

"With a firm hand, maybe," he retorted, before he clapped his hands together with a resounding slap.

That was the screen out of the way, but now he needed to place it elsewhere.

Yoshitsugu tutted, shifting on the bed as he did so. The need to sleep was washing through him now; on this comfortable surface, with a familiar and fond voice filling his ears, there was nothing to stop it.

"A firm petting is more than acceptable, Takatora."

A gentle yawn. Yoshitsugu reached out to drop his gem onto the floor near his chosen bed, his wings dissolving away as he did so.

Flustered, Takatora finished rearranging the screens with new intensity. Yet still he opened himself up for more teasing, provided that Yoshitsugu managed to stay awake.

"I'll leave you with bruises then, shall I?"

He turned to face his friend once more.

This was fun, Yoshitsugu thought, even as conscious thought began to slip away. To be given such easy openings and entertaining opportunities... this could well turn out to be a very fulfilling life between lives.

"You want to claim me in such an open way?" Were he capable of opening his eyes again right now, they would have been wide with fake astonishment. "How unexpectedly bold..."

As it was he merely looked and sounded sleepy, an omen of the fact that Yoshitsugu was just about to fall asleep. When Takatora next tried to talk to him, there would be no response.

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Glimmer, glitter, shine...

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