Current mood:	lazy
Current music:	O! Naruto Nippon 85

Samurai Deeper KYO drabbles for 3measures

I claimed Kyou, Kyoushirou and Yuya at 3measures, and the community was closed before I finished with all the themes. Below are the five ficlets I have written.
Samurai Deeper KYO © Kamijou Akimine, at al.


Rhetorics
Theme: #6 (the sphinx's riddle)

"Unlike the two of us," Kyou said, tossing down another cup, "you're more likely to age perceptibly. Wither. Sport wrinkles all over your face. Have your nonexistent tits sag and shrivel."

"You think?" Yuya grated, eyes shifting to the bottle to see if, hurled, it would make an impressive bump on his forehead.

Kyoushirou decided a contribution was called for. "In my humble opinion, Yuya-san has a nicely proportioned bosom, if that's any consolation."

"Thank you, Kyoushirou. Now, Kyou - I know we probably won't see you turn into a senior citizen, much less a trembling, gnarled, ancient thing whose hair has all but fallen out - "

"Absolutely not."

"Even so, women don't like old men. They prefer them young, good-looking, and still in complete possession of strong, white teeth. Don't they, Kyoushirou?"

"Er, well, actually, I've seen a couple of old men in various pleasure houses. And the ladies serve them just as courteously and, er, satisfyingly."

Kyou looked derisive. "Physical appearances don't matter. It's what the physique can do that counts."

"Even that must have a limit."

"With mortals and lowly slaves, maybe."

"Don't you ever, once in your life, feel like backing down?"

"Backing down is for the lily-livered. Notice I don't say for the old."

Yuya made a sound of exasperation. Across the table, Kyoushirou was starting to nod off, face flushed and mellow; no immediate help from that quarter, then. "I wish Muramasa-san were still here - I'd ask him if you were this verbally belligerent as a kid. I bet you weren't."

"I was a little quiet, actually. When you live with that old geezer, you don't need to talk much." Kyou reached for the bottle, weighed it, and snorted with disgust. "Empty. Go get another one."

"I'm not going to move - unless it's your money."

"I'm going, then. And don't expect me to be back anytime soon. There are girls who'd be more than willing to acknowledge my prowess and not run at the mouth while doing it."

He vanished past the threshold. Scowling, Yuya glanced at Kyoushirou, who was by now comfortably curled up on the floor. She got up and began to gather the overturned cups and bottles, prodding him with her toe all the while. He stirred once, then proceeded to fall asleep.

"At least you're in no age to be assisted into the bathroom," she muttered.

---

When It Rains
Theme: #3 (depth perception)

When he first spoke to her since they entered the throne room, it was not in apology, which she would have been prepared for. "This room was renovated recently," he said instead, glancing around. "The window on the wall didn't use to be that enormous. Back in the day the King knew he could count on everyone on this land. Now, however, it's different. He needs to see what is truly going on out there, and therefore a vantage point of view."

She straightened up and glared to show that she was not interested in architectural explanations. "What are you going to do with Kyou?"

He knelt down in front of her. She could not read his eyes. "Do you worry so much about Kyou, Yuya-san?"

"What do you think?" she burst out, and immediately wished she was a calmer sort of person. "You have the advantage over him - a stronger, less exhausted body, to name only one. And even if he does win, I don't suppose that - that - man over there will just let him and the others walk away."

"I agree," said a cheerful voice from the direction of the throne. "It wouldn't be fun to do that. Not at all."

Yuya blinked rapidly, then let her shoulders relax; the first step toward calm was to stop being tense. She bit at her lip. "I don't want either of you to get hurt," she whispered.

"I appreciate your concern. But Kyou and I have been waiting for this for four years. Surely you know us too well to hope that we can end it all in peace?"

Suddenly she wanted to cry, or slug him in the face - considering the circumstances, the first option would be safer, if less liberating. "I don't," she said morosely. "Know you well, that is. I know the medicine seller, but you? You're this stranger in fancy clothes, whom I barely saw coming and who's all I've got right now between me and your King."

She had not expected an answer, and was stunned when Kyoushirou reached out and squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Yuya-san."

"Thank you? What the heck for?"

"I will tell you, if Kyou won't. And I am sure that you will be there to hear it - be there for both of us - after all this is over."

"It's a bargain, then. You keep yourself and Kyou well and alive or I'll - I'll hang you out to dry then shoot you."

Kyoushirou did not smile, but his hand clasped Yuya's more tightly. "Deal."

"You can even borrow this room for your reunion," the throne added. "I wouldn't mind."

Yuya nodded. "Deal," she echoed, reveling in the gradually emerging realization that the slugging would be better directed to another, no uncertain direction.

---

If You Go There, They'll Have to Take You In
Theme: #8 (the measurement of life)

Muramasa's house was overgrown with weeds and smelled of mildew and animal droppings, an apotheosis of sad, abandoned houses. Yuya took a cautious peek inside to see what had inhabited the deserted rooms. When nothing sprang out and sank needle-like teeth on her arm, she swung one foot past the threshold.

"Come on, Kyou - it seems safe enough."

"I'll stay here."

She glared over her shoulder.

"Don't be so damn sentimental. The gramps had given everything he wanted and needed to give. There's really no use in poking at what remains. What do you expect to find anyway - a deathbed letter detailing the secret of the Mumyou Jinpuryuu?"

"I'm going in, all the same." Then, almost as a childish afterthought, "Kyoushirou wouldn't quibble over going with me, even if he doesn't like empty houses."

"No, he wouldn't. And neither has Muramasa done that much for him."

Yuya entered the house, head held high.

She came out carrying two unsheathed swords, and went straight to the tree under which Kyou sat, smoking. He gave no reaction as she knelt down in front of him, laying the swords across her lap. "They were placed separately from the other swords - they must be special."

"I'm surprised no random passing thief has already cleaned out his workshop."

"Yes." She was momentarily encouraged - a full sentence was more than he would ordinarily offer. "I was thinking of that too. We should have brought everything in the workshop to the Mibu, for safekeeping."

He tapped ash into the grass.

"Julian-san would know what to do with them."

"So go hire a cart or something."

"You're just not going to lend me a hand, are you?"

"It was your idea."

She said nothing for a moment. The blades glinted mutedly in the approaching sunset. "The Mibu is not like what it was before," she said, half to herself. "Muramasa-san wouldn't mind these weapons finding a home in the land he loved. And the clan would appreciate these weapons - and him - even more now."

He puffed on, his face carefully, mockingly blank.

"Hey, I'm asking for your opinion here." She held her breath, mentally scrambling for rejoinders should he bring up how impeccably understanding, resourceful, and responsive Kyoushirou would have been.

The pipe came down. "Didn't I tell you to hire a cart?" he said, sounding bored.

She wanted to smile, and settled for a small shrug instead. "All right, I'll look for one tomorrow. It's already too late in the day."

A ring of smoke floated languorously in the fading light before dissipating. "I knew you wouldn't be able to manage anything without me."

---

Of Nostalgia and the Laundry
Theme: #10 (a crowd)

"Kyoushirou and Sakuya-san came over today."

"Is that supposed to be interesting?"

"You ungrateful brute! That gourd of sake you just emptied was from them."

"If they bring sake every time they're here to visit, then it's all fine with me."

"I bet it is. By the way, Kyoushirou said to tell you that he'd like to sit and drink with you sometimes, for old times' sake."

"And you can tell him, no, thanks. When he's too drunk to keep his damn eyes open, he falls asleep and drools all over his clothes and mine."

"I'm sure you'd dump him outside before that happens."

"So he can drool all over your front yard instead."

"Or we can get Sakuya-san to take him home. She may want to be here also."

"This place is a regular meeting hall, isn't it?"

"Like you're ever here to see them."

"All right, I'll be here when Kyoushirou and Sakuya return with their sentimental notions of reliving the past. You're the one who washes my clothes anyway."

---

But It's Only Fitting
Theme: #9 (unfinished trilogy)

Kyoushirou sometimes saw Kyou in the distance; one could not mistake the head of wild black hair and the thin, almost careless stream of smoke. The next second he would shake off the notion, since Kyou was not a person to roam the countryside in full glory and thus give aspiring bounty hunters reason for glee (Yuya would have attested to this). On the contrary, Kyou would stay in places which were wrapped in mystery and legend, far removed from human habitation. Doing so was a safe course of action to take, and also had a nice ring to it when described aloud. Utterly Kyou-like, in short.

Kyoushirou saw Yuya once, sitting at a roadside foodstall and blowing at a hot cup of tea. She wore her hair longer and still had a penchant for overly large straw hats. He laughed when she drove away a hopeful lecher, not with her gun but with her bare fist; the spectacle made him miss their earlier days together.

Underneath sunny blue skies on sunny - and free - days, Kyoushirou stared down at his reflection on water. Against the clear, calm surface, the fiery red eyes were terrific to behold, like blood-colored gems. He wondered if they would be of pragmatic use ever again.