Hi hi!!

It's been a beesee month though it's the last month of the year... for me at least. Do pardon the slow progress!

I see many familiar usernames too!! Great to see you guise again!! *waves*  \(^.^)/

As usual, I will sound like I am droning... but please do allow me to continue! (*^.^*) This chap will reveal a little more of the background and setting. 

Please forgive any inaccurate use of Jap terms!  >.<

Do stay and read!

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“NNAHHHHH!!!” A single figure wrapped up within the warmth of his futon springs up in an attempt to exit the nightmare he is experiencing. Scaring the hell out of him, is his past, appearing in a form of a dream, making him excrete buckets of cold sweat as he sleeps without feeling well rested, for the thousandth time and if not, more.

Letting out a long sigh, the person raises a pale hand to his forehead and wipes off the droplets there, before climbing out from beneath the weighty sheets and huddling in a dark corner of his room, rocking himself back and forth as he tries to forget the vivid scenes that were flashing past his eyes just moments ago. Flashbacks of people committing the Seppuku, and their heads rolling past him after their guts were strewn all over the ground in front of him. Their blood felt sticky and warm even though it was nothing more than his illusions.

This person, Jejung, has a father whose favourite past time happens to be ordering the ‘execution’ of all those who had failed him, or those who he labels the condemned. The young man and his brother were forced to watch in the past, time and again, till they supposedly got used to it. He never got used to it though. The particular scene that roused him so rudely from his slumber earlier on was that of his late uncle, a man who tried to betray his father but failed miserably. That poor relative could not finish the act of ‘self-disembowelment’ and his father had literally waited for him to bleed out slowly before beheading him.

Jejung, the traumatised adolescent back then, was never himself ever again. His brother, Yuchun, had changed as well, and not for the better. Jejung simply became more withdrawn, choosing to call in sick at every session of ‘public’ execution. His father never suspected anything since he used to be a sickly child. Till the day the sadistic man died, Jejung remained ‘weak’ and was always doing poorly, both emotionally and physically.

Being trained by their father, with the art of swords fight, Jaejoong himself is a brilliant fighter like his brother, but never killed a single person with that ‘art’. Blood is the one thing that will not fail to bring about nausea and vomiting. His extended family as well as his community despised him for that and viewed him as a weakling. Yuchun was and is the only one who somehow seemed to understand.

The blood related pair aren’t close, but the older one knows his brother’s thought processes well enough not to indulge in similar execution exercises after their father’s passing. Jejung is thankful for that. Yuchun might not be the best brotherly figure, but at least he knew that Jejung would never want to see another self-evisceration ever again.

“Jejung sama. Breakfast is ready.” “Shall I get your bath water?” A soothing voice of an elderly woman, his ‘nanny’ since he was young, addressed the person within as he remains curled up in his comfort corner. That startled the poor young man a little, causing him to jump a little.

“Yes. I will be out soon.” The flustered person immediately gathers his crumpled night wear and struggles to stand while slipping on the sooth satiny sole of his white socks. Falling a couple a times, rather ungracefully, the younger man scrambled over to the bronze mirror on the desk and quickly disentangled the knots in his long ebony tresses, running his finger through it as he pulls the silky strains into a loose ponytail. Being the more effeminate one, he can easily pass off as female.

Staring out of the slightly ajar window, Jejung gasped softly upon realisation that he does not have much time left till breakfast commences. It is kind of like a ritual in his family that they have to gather around the table when their father is around so Yuchun kept the family tradition after the man’s demise. It is only during this short period of time that the siblings would meet up anyway.

“Is onii-sama back?” Jejung asks as he proceeds to pulling on his kimono. The old lady remained silent while she helps the younger person fasten the obi around his tiny waist, watching while the other slips on his sandals clumsily. The woman finally nods and the person smiles, an enticing smile so exquisite that she is sure only he possesses it, in this particular era and the next.

“Obachan, I will pass on the morning bath.” The beautiful person said again when finally done with wrapping himself up with the terribly complicated Kimono. Shuffling out of his room quickly, the young man hurried down to the dining hall, where his brother is already sipping on his teacup.

Getting into a prostrate position, the latter pressed his pale forehead against his hand on the warm tatami flooring, waiting for the shogun to give him a sign of acknowledgment.

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POV from Jejung

It’s been a while since I saw him…

I’m not uncomfortable around him or anything like that. It’s just that his presence can be pretty overwhelming at times… as with otosama. They even share the same face. They are far from ugly but they can look really intimidating.

Obachan used to tell me how much I look my okasan. I lost her when I barely knew to speak. I heard the elders say before that otosama became the way he was after okasan’s death. My family don’t take deaths very well though they themselves belittle life. How ironic. A life lost is a life lost… and the deceased is never coming back ever again. This part about death scares me so I don’t kill.

I can wield a katana… but I don’t do that anymore, unless the situation calls for it. Otosama loved parading me and oniisama. He loved to brag about how great his upbringing is… but there is nothing admirable in the way he nurtured us. I won’t lie… I actually felt relieved when he stopped breathing.

I am a terrible son aren’t I? Which son wishes for his own father’s death?

I guess I just couldn’t help it. Karma will get to me one day.

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“I have just returned from my meeting with him…” Yuchun spoke silently, deep voice reverberating across the spacious room. Jejung, who had recently gotten up from kneeling had to put down the small cup in his hands and bow his head again as the shogun speak. It is expected of everyone to view the emperor as a god and treat him with the utmost respect in his presence. Family alike, hence, the estranged relations.

“Him…” Jejung does not question Yuchun even though he does not fully get who his brother is referring to. They rarely spoke but Yuchun have always felt that it’s a pity that they had to interact in such a formal and awkward manner. Then, quickly forming an ‘o’ with his exquisite ruby lips, the shogun knows that his younger brother is now aware of the person in question. Everyone knows Yunho is the only possible cause of Yuchun’s distress.

“He is willing to share his land with us.” Yuchun started rather stiffly. The shogun, reduced to being a brother, expected to perform his brotherly roles but failing at it, is still thinking of the best approach to use, to break the news of the betrothal. Yuchun briefly decides to just get to the point and places his cup down as well.

“There is a condition though…” Yuchun said firmly, voice and tone still monotonous. He will only reveal the second part of the ‘great exchange’ for now. Eyeing Jejung as the other appears clueless and unsuspecting, the shogun cursed Yunho under his breath as he watches his pretty little sibling fidget slightly. Jejung was a pure and kind hearted boy, teenager and now, a young man. Yuchun never expected him to do the unthinkable, but with so much at stake, he needs Jejung to do something he had never thought he would want the latter to do.

“How comfortable are you with holding this?” Holding out his katana to Jejung, the shogun watched for a reaction with hawk-like eyes, sending chills down the other’s spine. This is the first time the older brother has ever asked the younger brother such a question, and the younger one is baffled.

Blinking twice, the young man could barely register his brother’s question before finding himself reaching his long slender fingers out to brush against the still sword. Jejung gasped softly upon feeling his brother tighten his grip around the middle portion of the sheath. Then, without a warning of any sorts, Yuchun had flung the deadly sword towards Jejung after dislodging the weapon from its sheath with a single flicking motion of the thumb. The shogun is merely testing for a reflex which he hopes still exists within the younger one, without consideration for the danger his actions bring.

Not letting Yuchun down, the timid and always cowering young man had swiftly and silently deflected the blade with the teapot, sending it hurtling back pass Yuchun’s face, almost grazing on the skin there. With this, Yuchun allowed the tug at the side of his mouth to pull apart his lips for the first time in years. Yuchun smiled, a very dashing one, but with its own dark intents. “I see that you haven’t lost the art.” Pursing his lips, the shogun plucked out the weapon lodged in the décor behind him before sheathing it again, satisfied.

Jejung is horrified. This gesture is mind boggling to him, but he can almost see Yuchun’s silent message as clearly as he can almost hear it. Yuchun never breathed a word about his intentions, but Jejung is already fully aware. It is pretty damn clear that it has got something to do with Yunho, which makes Jejung feel concern, and to add on, there is a message about impending bloodshed, which the beautiful young man meshes together to form the word, ‘assassination’.

With a protest caught at the back of his throat, the young lad hung his head low and got up after a brief kowtow. Struggling to get a grip of himself, Jejung prayed that Yuchun wouldn’t stop him from exiting the dining hall, but his wishes will not be granted today.

“You are not excused.” Jejung immediately stiffens as his legs starts to turn all wobbly. “Sit. Down.” The two words struck him hard like a couple of mallets, causing him to collapse dramatically. Then, crawling to the shogun’s side like a hurt little puppy, Jejung could not stop himself from wanting to kick up a fuss and whine. It’s been years since he last made a din, more than a decade to be exact.

Unsure about the most appropriate reaction, Jejung mustered the most pitiful look in the century and implored the older man with watery eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” Yuchun did not even bother to look at the other as he continues to sip away at his tea. “You are a smart person. You knew what I wanted to say before I even said it.” “Now, I want you to understand.”

Immediately gathering his arms and legs together like a dejected kid, the young man wrapped his hands around his ankles, imitating a ball. There will be no room for bargaining or denial. The dreaded change in Yuchun has finally arrived. Jejung loves his older brother, but this moment is making him wish he that does not have a brother. All the young prince wanted now was to dissipate and cease to exist.

Allowing tears to roll down his cheeks as he buries his face in his crossed biceps, the snivelling is inevitable. The shogun watched on silently, not knowing what he should say or do in order to appease the other. It’s been too long since he has seen anyone cry as well. He is just not accustomed to all that sudden influx of emotions. The brothers were brought up not to feel. Their family dynamic is screwed up and Yuchun is starting to feel conscience returning after its long absence.

“Do not do that in front of him.” Yuchun stated coldly at last with a frown as he places his hands on his thighs, crossing his legs. “We can’t appear weak to them.” Waving a hand and nodding briskly, the table before them is immediately cleared of its content. Then, placing his hands on the clean table top, the shogun waited for his younger brother to look up. The other can sense the impatience and hurries to dry his eyes.

Stretching an arm out, the shogun places a thick palm on the other’s left ear, using his thumb to gather and tuck the soft black hair behind the other’s cold pinna, inspecting his sibling’s flawless skin, nodding a satisfied nod. He knows no man can deny the fact that if his younger brother is female, he would be the goddess reincarnated. Much like their deceased mother, Jejung is so ethereal that it’s somehow surreal.

It does pain Yuchun to see Jejung’s helpless unwillingness, but Jejung is nothing but a pawn, as how his father will put it. Yuchun tells himself that he will not feel anything unnecessarily.

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POV from Yuchun

You can never erase the horrid marks left behind by bad nurture. The nature might be kind, gentle and loving, but the upbringing is what defines the person.

I used to feel angry and pained whenever otosama hits Jejung in the past. I was a brother. Now, I am nonetheless one, but I am more a shogun. There are duties that I have to fulfil. There are duties that Jejung has to fulfil. He has escaped his fate for long enough.

I am not worried about his skills. He can slaughter that stubborn pig as efficiently as I can… that I can guarantee… but what concerns me is his ability to carry it out. I will need to bring out that side in him, possibly hidden away for all this years. Otosama believed that he has it in him… I am really not too sure if it does exist so it all bounds down to how I can convince him to commit murder for me.

So what if he can displace ten individually positioned bamboo sticks with just two strikes?

So what if he can speak and write multiple languages?

So what if he can make anybody fall for him with that face?

He is weak.

I still and often hear him crying in the middle of the night, awakened by those nightmares… from our past. I was haunted too… but I was stronger I guess. I would always tell myself that the blood and gore is inevitable when you want people to pledge allegiance. I have always made myself believe that the guts and red substances are nothing but bodily parts that were once concealed by the skin but now exposed. There really isn’t anything to be scared of once you get used to it.

Everything will be a nice red flood during the aftermath. You will not be able to see much with that amount of blood anyway.

I need to start planning now since I didn’t have the chance to do any proper planning prior to all that chaos happening beforehand. There was never ending warfare and to think that our ancestors thought that nothing will work aside from pure brute force. I have to outsmart my opponents without wasting any more of our precious resources.

No one has ever tried assassination since there was a pact made within the alliance that there can only be ambassadors and not assassins. If we were unhappy, we kill the ambassadors… since it’s their job to die anyway. However, that’s all in the past. We must learn to be innovative over time. Stupid pride and whatever honour passed down from our ancestors wouldn’t keep us alive. Those will only make us stagnant, like sitting ducks.

TBC

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