Fandom: Peacemaker Kurogane
Warnings: Humor (a lame attempt at it ><;;)
Rating: PG
Summary: Hijikata gets inspired by an unlikely muse. Can he FINALLY manage to write a decent hiaku? Only one person can help him release his inner poetic self.
Extra warning: Possible bad fanart ahead -_-

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The Inspiration:

The man sits with his back against the shoji screen. His handsome face is set in deep concentration, his brows furrowed with thought as he puffs lightly on his pipe.

Falling leaves
My dying heart
Rekindle the fires

He eyes the words he has written and makes a low sound of disgust in his throat. Somehow, they just don’t fit.

The words – he longs for the words that would make the perfect poem.

Sleeping moon
Shining brightly
A woven silence

Light footsteps break through his reverie as he barely lifts his head to acknowledge his companion. He makes no attempt to hide his wasted efforts having long decided that trying to hide such a thing from the young man would be to no avail.

“Writing again, Hijikata-san?”

He thanks his lucky stars that the boy is not with his rather annoying pet at this time.

“Have you gotten anything written yet?”

He shrinks back a little as thick purplish locks suddenly fill his view. He closes his eyes and inhales the sweet and subtle scent that fills his nostrils before opening them again to push him away gently.

“I’m trying to,” he responds rather curtly. He doesn’t mean to sound this ‘gruff’ or ‘cold’ but he’s again thankful that his companion understands him well enough to know the difference.

“I’m not breaking your concentration, am I?”

He shakes his head and tries to focus on the blank sheet of paper before him. The brush, heavy-laden with ink, hovers above it – longing to be placed upon its rightful position.

“It’s a beautiful day, Hijikata-san,” the young man says as he moves carefully to kneel behind his friend. He places strong but gentle hands upon the tense shoulders and begins a soothing massage of the knotted muscles underneath. “Would you like to come to the town with me?”

The man grunts and scowls. “I thought you would want to take your precious Tetsu-kun with you.”

To his chagrin, the young man giggles and works his magic even lower. It’s hard to keep his moan of pleasure in check.

“You sound jealous, Hijikata-san.”

“I am not jealous of you and that incompetent…”

“…but lovable…”

“…clumsy…”

“…strong…”

“…brat!”

“Awww, Hijikata-san. He’s doing his best…”

“Well, he could do better.”

Angry storms
Fill my cold hands
Winter chills…

Goodness, his haikus were getting even worse!

“Just like you do, Hijikata-san.”

“Hmm?” He looks confused, now wondering why the boy’s hands were no longer massaging him again.

“You keep trying to be better and better, don’t you?”

To his embarrassment (while hoping that no one would walk by to spot them) he suffers the young man’s arms wrapping themselves around his chest. He rests his chin upon the older man’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

He whispers softly into an ear. “You know you are horrible at writing haikus, but you keep doing your best to improve, don’t you, Hijikata-san?”

“I…”

“You spend hours staring at your paper, willing your mind to churn out the words that you so long to put down.”

“How…”

The young man’s hand slides down the strong arm. He places his smaller one upon the large and darker one, which holds the brush ever so delicately.

“Just close your eyes and let the words come to you, Hijikata-san,” he murmurs softly as he begins to guide the stronger hand across the paper. “Empty your heart of all worries and fears and then you will set them free.”

The man finds himself doing as he is told. For a moment, it feels as if his heart is soaring. The brush seems to take a life of its own as it dances across the paper with broad sweeping strokes. The sight, the smell, the sounds of the world around him are more acute to his senses, his heart rate quickens in excitement as he finally…finally understands what it means to be set free.

“Keep your eyes closed, Hijikata-san,” comes the soft words of encouragement.

“Yes…” he murmurs back. His voice oddly sounds sluggish and he barely realizes that his companion has risen to his feet to make his way out as quietly as possible.

For a long while, he remains seated in that position, dreading and yet excited to see just what his heart had managed to produce on paper.

And finally taking a deep breath, he opens up his eyes to stare blankly at his new accomplishment.




His jaw works for a moment as he closes his eyes and clenches his hands into tight fists. It’s a low growl at first, but it steadily gathers momentum as he rises to his feet to reach for his katana. And with pure murder and rage in his eyes, his loud bellow of fury echoes throughout the compound sending all who heard it quaking in fear and terror.

“OKITA SOOOOOOOOOOOOOUJIIIIIIIIII!!!!! PREPARE TO DIEEEEEEEEE!!!”

__


And somewhere in the middle of a shopping spree at a candy store, far away from any and all possible danger, the pesky troublemaker sneezed.




~The End~