Junkei often daydreamed. It carried him through the bad days, the tiring days, the boring days… and the worst of the worst, those times he couldn’t think about without the cracks threatening to show in his veneer. When in his official role he could at least hide that side of himself, maintaining a calm and measured air while engaging with his vassals and visitors.
Usually. Usually.
Today, he was hosting Akechi Mitsuhide, and this was causing problems the tutors of his youth would have lectured him badly over.
“Is everything alright, Master Junkei?”
Mitsuhide was frowning at him, brow creased with concern and cup half-way to his mouth. Junkei inhaled softly and offered a small, polite smile, attempting his most reassuring tone of voice.
“Of course. No need to worry about me, I’m happy to have your company. How is your tea?”
“If you’re sure… it’s very good, of course. You never provide anything less.”
Watching Mitsuhide raise the cup to his lips and close his eyes in quiet bliss, Junkei took a moment to steady himself, casting his gaze around the room and fiddling with his own cup before giving into the urge to stare at his friend again. This particular quiet moment of theirs, spent together without anyone interfering, almost in their own little world away from the politics and the fighting… he could imagine he’d stepped right into one of his most common fantasies. The two of them together in a private hideaway in the mountains, recovering after a daring escape from a battlefield where Mitsuhide had swept up a despondent Junkei and fought him out of the war (on horseback, Junkei being held against Mitsuhide’s body to keep him safe, Mitsuhide unkempt yet still beautiful hair loose and flowing behind them as arrows flew through the air).
And then after time spent healing, recovering, free from it all, they’d drink tea and relax, and Junkei would to tend Mitsuhide’s wounds, cleaning the bindings of the litany of wounds marring the pale scarred skin revealed by shed clothing, glancing up shyly at Mitsuhide as he did so, appreciating the beauty and courage and compassion embodied in that lovely face, daring to hope he might finally get what he had longed for since their first meeting…
Junkei’s eyes fluttered shut, and he inhaled sharply. Tried to steady himself. Bring himself back into the moment. But no, the pictures in his head continued to paint themselves, where Mitsuhide looked down at him and smiled softly, reached out to touch Junkei’s face with calloused fingers, tender. A heavy moment, so loving and soft, the culmination of a long tale of tragedies and triumphs reaching a wonderful climax.
“Master Junkei.”
A kiss? A kiss, of course, it had to be, featherlight but full of promise, a gift from the one and only Lord Junkei wanted, his beloved hero Akechi Mitsuhide. Who had come to him, who had rescued him, who was everything he’d ever dreamed…
“Master Junkei, I am not convinced you are truly alright…”
Daydreamed. Right. So much for steadying himself! He’d caused Mitsuhide concern, too... Junkei opened his eyes again to see Mitsuhide staring at him and obviously full of genuine concern. He’d placed his tea cup to the side and come a little closer, enough that it wouldn’t shock Junkei if he was blushing.
“Ah, forgive me, my friend… I was caught up in a memory, that’s all.”
Not entirely a lie, was it? A memory of a well loved fantasy, and something he longed to make a real memory of one day. If only it was likely to be so.