18Author's Notes: Here we are! My story collection for the "YST 20 Themefic Challenge," in celebration/honor of the 20th Anniversary of YST! I realize this compilation is a bit overdue, considering we are now rapidly approaching the 30th Anniversary of YST...but seeing as the series hasn't changed and FFNet is SEVERELY lacking in good fic (of anything), I view this as a much-needed addition to the archives, as well as a one-two punch for BOTH anniversary celebrations (even if the original selection is some ten years too late).
My collection for the challenge is diverse, covering as broad/wide-reaching a selection of themes and characters as I could manage with only twenty prompts. Thus, everything from the original TV show to the OVAs to individual characters and post-series speculation is discussed, all in my personal styling that I hope distinguishes me from other YST 20 themeset collections here and around the Net. Though the stories are posted in numerical order, I wrote them COMPLETELY out of sequence (case in point, "Cherry Tree" was written fourth to last out of all twenty prompts...and it's #1 on the list). As a result, the prompts themselves don't follow a particular "timeline" of events, as they relate to the other prompts. One might focus on a happening from the show's original season, and the next may deal with an issue related to Gaiden. I typically state the "what and when" in each of the prompt's ANs, so as to give readers a point of reference for where in the series we are in a given fic. Reading and understanding all of what's written in this collection will require an above-average knowledgebase of the (CANONICAL) YST universe. Fair warning.
To kick things off, I decided to dedicate Prompt #1 not only to the YST series itself, but also the series fans. As a long-time admirer of the show, I've written my fair share of fic, as have others who've watched and adored the anime through the years. I've come to know some of these fans and authors, and we've forged fine friendships through discussion groups and social networking platforms. And while YST is and will always be YST, a part of what it is is based on what the fans make it. And no dedication to the story and characters would be complete without acknowledging the people who've supported it.
I came across a good friend of mine's fic in a LiveJournal community devoted to the recognition of the series oft ostracized OVAs. The story centered around the anime's final season, Message, as well as the characters of Nasuti and Suzunagi. And as soon as I read it, I immediately disliked her for getting the idea for writing it first. xDDD I loved it, and as I was sorting through my remaining prompt selections for YST 20, I knew almost instantly what I wanted/needed to do.
This prompt, "Cherry Tree," is a reworking of my good friend Linda Marie's (user "Alzbeta Batoriova" here on FFNet) fanfic, "Nasutei's Message." It, along with all her other WONDERFUL YST-related works, can be found at her user profile which I HIGHLY recommend you visit, follow, and read. She's an incredibly talented author, and I'm honored to have been given permission to rework her story for my collection. If you've read "Nasutei's Message" before, than you know basically what to expect here. If you haven't, then I urge you to read LM's version first. Mine differs in some pretty noticeable ways, but the core of what the story was is maintained. I can only pray I do the original justice.
YST and I go back a long ways, across many fics and message boards and conversations on LJ, so this particular challenge was rather near and dear to my heart. I hope the care and attention to detail I've devoted to each theme reflects that, and adequately honors what is, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest animes ever to reach North American shores.
Thank you, YST. For the memories and the fun. You were a brilliant part of my childhood. And whenever it is I leave this earth, I'll be proud to have left this little collection of love and devotion to you behind.
From one "Samurai Heart" to another. God bless.
7-second Japanese:
tsunokakushi - wedding headpiece
onee-san - sister
gaijin - foreigner
onna-bugeisha - female warrior of Japanese nobility
hanami - festival for welcoming spring, most associated with viewing cherry trees (literally "flower view" or "blossom view")
Tokugawa - last feudal military government of Japan (1603 - 1868)
3-second French:
croquembouche - traditional French dessert consisting of pastry balls piled in a cone, typically served at weddings
3-second Christian:
"laying on of hands" - for blessing, for anointing (setting aside for a special purpose)
cross oneself - ritual blessing of tracing the Holy Cross across the body, sometimes used in oath/swearing before God
Disclaimer: Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers is © to Sunrise, Nagoya TV, and Sony Music Entertainment.
YST 20 Prompt 1:
Cherry Tree
"It's exciting to have finally set a date."
"Are you certain it suits?"
"I'd always hoped to be a 'December bride.'"
"I meant the wedding itself."
"Why would I object?"
After some seven years of fighting, flirting, dating unofficially, "Seiji drama," dating officially, and one rather anticlimactic wedding proposal—"Just marry me, already!"—Seiji and Nasuti had finally agreed to "be together" and settle down. Most Japanese couples married in June, so in an effort to deviate from the norm—and spare their families the suffering of the summer heat—the happy couple had set a date for mid-December of that year.
It was early April, with the cherry blossoms in full bloom, so the "big day" was still several months away. It lent them plenty of time to plan, given that French weddings and Japanese weddings couldn't be more different. There were a lot of details to sort through, and the issue of intercontinental travel. And neither wanted a wedding ceremony crammed between their shared June birthdays anyway.
Seiji's family was pushing for a "mostly" traditional wedding...except for Satsuki, whose fascination with the modern world clashed heavily with the more "customary" mindsets of the rest of the Dates. She'd wanted her new "onee-san" to wear a white gown with a veil, while Seiji's mother and grandmother fawned over wedding kimonos and their accompanying tsunokakushis. As a half-Asian herself, Nasuti was content to go the more "Japanese" approach, though she'd insisted on a croquembouche for their cake, and a dance under the umbrella, in honor of her French upbringing.
(She was personally evicting anyone who had the notion or audacity to perform a skit.)
Whatever suited Nasuti suited Seiji. He'd given little thought to the particulars of the wedding, knowing well enough that weddings were a largely "female affair." Which was not to imply that he was without say or opinion. Given that their marriage would be "mixed," he'd wanted the ceremony to reflect in kind. If Nasuti had wanted something "more French" than Japanese, he was ready and "armored up" to defend her...even against the intimidating fearlessness of the Date women. And that he'd felt so strongly on the matter had surprised him. Having seen the rigamarole involved with his own sister's wedding, Shin had advised Seiji to just "stay out of the way." But it wasn't Seiji's nature to step aside. The very notion of backing down annoyed him. He'd had his head stuck in the middle of the planning as much as anyone—more than Nasuti, in truth—ready and willing to fight, as necessary, on his fiancée's behalf.
Yayoi had smirked at the intensity of his involvement, teasing that he was "as bad as any of the women." But Seiji hadn't thought it strange to want to defend his bride-to-be, especially in a family as combatively cutthroat as the Dates. To that, Yayoi'd rolled her eyes, insisting that if Nasuti could contend with him, she could more than acclimate to the likes of the family. He'd barked in protest to her claim, with Nasuti stifling giggles in the background as Satsuki, fascinated by all the unconventional hoopla, ran a bamboo brush through her soon-to-be sister-in-law's auburn hair.
But despite the clear exaggeration of the difficulty of his person, Seiji couldn't deny that Nasuti's easy transition into his world was a huge relief. His mother and grandfather had balked a little, at the idea of their precious son and grandson marrying a half-breed from across the sea. They were pure-breds, the Dates, and Seiji knew something like "proposing to a Frenchwoman three years his senior" was a recipe for strife. Perhaps it was his own father's marrying into the family, or his seven-year pursuit of a woman bouncing between two continents. Perhaps it was his willful refusal to so much as blink in the direction of anyone else. Perhaps the Dates had "got a clue" and realized they weren't living under the Edo regime. Or hell, maybe his mother and grandparents had just grown soft.
Whatever the reason, the announcement of their engagement had raised only moderate fuss. Nasuti had been welcomed into the clan with relatively open arms—his grandfather was already embarrassingly praying for a male firstborn—with a section of the dojo being specially prepared as living quarters for the newlywed couple. Satsuki was ecstatic at the idea of a "gaijin sister," and Yayoi both impressed and surprised at Seiji's unconventional choice of bride. Nasuti's ambitious spirit seemed to have squashed any potential doubts of his mother's, and his father was, well...his father. Ever the compassionate voice of reason, he'd been the first to accept Nasuti into the home. He'd never been one to stand on ceremony anyway, and having himself taken the last name of his wife, was likely more sympathetic of the situation than anyone.
As a result, the planning thus far had been smooth. Though Nasuti was far from weak, she was agreeable and adaptable, more so than any of the bloodborne Dates, reminding Seiji a great deal of his dad. Never could Seiji recall "crossing swords" with his father. In truth, he'd envied the man's gentle and understanding nature, given his own naturally tempestuous temper. Nasuti wasn't quite as acquiescent as "Papa Date"—the bickerings between she and Seiji a tried and true testament to that—but she shared his pliability and patience, and his love for people and things that others might find...trying to endure.
To his family's credit, the "bulldozing" had been kept to a minimum. Seiji might have even gone so far as to say his mother and grandfather "liked" Nasuti (the Japanese half of her, for certain). At the very least, they respected her. His grandfather nodded his approval when he'd learned of her interest and growing skill with the naginata. And he'd all but shouted when she'd demonstrated the fruits of her training in their school. "My grandson chose an onna-bugeisha for his bride!" he'd praised. (The last name of Yagyu didn't hurt.) His sisters liked her for sure, and Seiji's father was happy so long as he was happy.
Yes, the planning had gone extremely well.
When it was all said and done, Nasuti's demands were small. "The wedding is kind of pointless," she'd insisted, "in light of the rest of our lives." It was more his family making a to-do, though he was the only male heir, and the first of the Date children to officially "take the plunge." Yayoi seemed disinterested in dating, and Satsuki, despite being just two years younger than himself, was "too young," in his opinion, to entertain the idea of boys.
"I don't want you to feel...pressured."
Nasuti smiled. "I appreciate your willingness to 'go to bat.' But I think you're looking for a fight where this is none."
They walked forward in silence then, the pink of the cherry blossoms both a romantic and invigorating sight.
Seiji was the first to break it.
"I know them. I love them...but I know them. We're bushido, through and through. We can make a battlefield of anything."
She grasped the seriousness of his words, but could find no reservation for it in her heart. "It makes things kind of interesting, doesn't it?"
"You say that now."
Nasuti giggled, too drunk on happiness to be moved by his sullen concerns. She wrapped herself around his arm, her heels clicking against the walkway at the edges of the dojo estate. Rows of cherry blossoms lined the perimeter of the grounds, making for their own private, at-home hanami affair.
"The blossoms are so pretty." Nasuti held out a hand, catching a petal in her palm. "It's a shame the season is so short."
"They're quite striking," Seiji agreed, looking up. "More so than I've seen in recent years."
"A blessing, for our impending nuptials," Nasuti beamed.
But Seiji furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the sakura trees overhead. Studying his face, the reaction unnerved her; she recognized "the look." She'd seen it time and again through the years, and she clutched him a little tighter for it.
It was a look of alarm. It was an awareness of danger.
With his eyes to the skies, Nasuti turned to inspect the rear, only to find the path they had taken no longer there.
"Seiji—!" She tugged at his bicep.
He turned at her urging, gasping at the sight of the now non-existent walkway, and the dense row of sakura trees stretching endlessly from behind. He peered into the distance, searching for signs of his home between the branches of the trees, but saw only the swaying motions of cherry-covered limbs dancing in the breeze. Whirling himself around, the trail out ahead of them was more of the same—clusters of sakura trees standing attention against the backdrop of a deep lavender sky.
Nasuti looked down at the feeling of something wet pooling at her feet.
"What the—!"
Where the fresh, green grass of spring once stood, was now a mirror of water stretching out across the limitless expanse of pink. She tested her footing in the crystal depth, grasping Seiji as a lifeline for fear of falling into a bottomless abyss. But the shallow waters did not give way. Their depth was little more than the outsole of her shoe.
Rendered speechless by the sight, Seiji placed a protective arm across Nasuti, uncertain of whether to position her in front or behind. The "ground" on which they stood was firm, and yet, there was something...immaterial about the place—a place he was certain was no longer "home"—that made him feel...light. The sky was dark, and yet something in the trees glowed. A low-hanging mist moved over the surface of the water, but the air was clear. It was impossible to gauge direction from their surroundings, so inundated by the heady atmosphere of fog and luminescence and the faint scent of sakura fruit assaulting them from all sides.
Petals fell from the trees like rain—an alluring sight, if not for the uncertainty of where and what and why they were there. Nasuti was wary of venturing forth, but Seiji's eyes seemed fixated on the "path" ahead. He pressed forward, his fingers snaking their way through her own as he stepped carefully, one foot than another, easing them both through the columns of cherry-colored blooms tickling the outer edges of their clothes.
Gingerly they moved, droplets of the cool liquid beneath splattering the cuff of Seiji's slacks and the bareness of Nasuti's calves. It was hard to discern how far or long they walked, so identical the "north" to the "south." But in a matter of what was presumed "minutes," they emerged from the labyrinthine garden into a small clearing. There, at the very center of the enclosure, stood a lone sakura tree, scant smaller than the rest, a cascade of blossoms like a sunburst littering its base.
"It's here…" Seiji whispered.
Nasuti's gaze darted from her fiancé to the tree. "...What?"
"The reason we were summoned."
"'Summoned?'"
A slight wind picked up, catching the petals of the tree and lifting them through the air. Behind the bark, a figure appeared, like a trick of the light. Its silhouette was indistinguishable at first, but as the blossoms gave way, shape and color took form. With what amounted to a burst of breath, there stood before them a refined woman. Her hair was dark and long, her skin that of a porcelain collector doll. The look and styling of her dress suggested she hailed from an earlier age, a large and elaborate headpiece fanning out over the top of her crown. Her kimono was red and white and flowing, and she looked for all the world like an actress stepped off the set of a Tokugawa-themed movie piece.
But perhaps her most striking feature was the sparkle green coloring of her eyes.
Seiji knew her instantly.
She had flashed before him once, back when he'd witnessed the troubled spirit Suzunagi's demise. But even if he had not, he would have known. The proof was staring straight at him. There was little physical resemblance between mother and child, but the one feature they shared was in the windswept shimmer of their eyes. And it was with that same shimmer that the ethereal entity gazed warmly upon him, her hands folded loosely at her lap.
Nasuti stood silent as Seiji's side, ignorant of the woman's identity. Though she knew of the Troopers' acquisition of new and more powerful yoroi, she possessed only a vague understanding of their strange encounter with what Seiji had curiously coined, "the Spirit Child." He had not elaborated on what exactly transpired, nor had any of his friends. It seemed each of their experiences had been too personal, too revealing to share.
That the figure did not attack, and that Seiji seemed familiar with it, relieved her. The absolute last thing Nasuti wanted was another foe and another fight. She was more than ready for an indefinite period of peace. And she didn't think it unreasonable to say she'd earned it. And it went without saying the Troopers had as well.
The woman did not address them with words, but she gazed at Seiji as if communicating with something...more. Petty as it was, it miffed Nasuti to think of her fiancé as so attuned to another female, even if the woman was little more than light and smoke. She studied Seiji's expression probingly, her eyes bouncing back and forth between them.
As if somehow sensing her jealous thoughts, the woman turned to face Nasuti then, her countenance gentle and a reassuring smile upon her lips. Her gaze dropped slightly, taking note of Seiji and Nasuti's still-entwined hands. Her smile widened at the sight, and the insecurity Nasuti had felt evaporated like a mist.
The woman returned to Seiji then, her eyes falling to a small pile of sakura blossoms nestled at the base of the tree. Following her line of sight, he leaned forward ever-so-slightly, intrigued at what lie within. At her beckoning, Seiji walked towards the tree, Nasuti in tow. Nasuti marveled at the delicacy of the woman's fingers and wrist, wondering how it was that so much exquisite fragility could confine itself inside such a small frame. As they closed the distance between them, the woman's smile grew gentler, if possible, gesturing towards the mound of cherry blooms at her feet.
Seiji knelt down, his gaze bouncing up once as if to ask permission. But that same, gentle smile was her only response. With an unsure exhale of breath, Seiji brushed the blossoms aside, revealing a tiny, red-haired baby girl nestled beneath.
Nasuti gasped, water splashing as she stepped back in shock. But Seiji's reaction was more subdued. Recognizing her as the baby Suzunagi, he regarded her with a mixture of fondness and remorse. Of the Troopers, Seiji had been the first to sympathize with the vengeful spirit's plight. He'd understood her rage, her fear, and though he had not condoned her actions, he'd empathized with the hatred she'd felt for the armors and for her happy world that their existence had destroyed. Though he'd possessed not the words needed to "fix" her heart, his compassion had opened a door to dialog that, in the end, had set everything right.
To his knowledge, she had been reunited with her mother and left to heaven in the end, yet here she lay. A tiny baby she was, sound asleep in a cradle of blossoms. At the very center of her forehead rested a lone, pink petal. With improbable precision, Seiji raised two fingers to her brow and, with a delicate grasp, removed it. The baby Suzunagi scrunched her nose at his touch, and moved with an unnamed emotion, he felt strangely compelled to embrace the child. Only when the woman, Suzunagi's mother, motioned to the babe with a nod and signaling for Seiji to take the girl did he act.
Feeling for her form, still partially buried in blooms, Seiji lifted the baby Suzunagi from her "crib," cradling her against himself with care. Nasuti's mouth dropped a foot, as the mother raised both hands to her chest in delight. Then, stepping forward, she beckoned both Seiji and Nasuti near. Placing a hand on either shoulder—her right on Seiji's, her left on Nasuti's—the feel of her fingers was as weightless as the wind. Her eyes danced between them, then raising her head to the heavens, she placed either hand at the top of their heads. Finally, she took Nasuti's hand and guided it to rest on top of Seiji's, still cushioning the babe. Facing one another, the child Suzunagi between them, they exchanged smiles, the sakura trees swaying gently all around.
The couple transfixed with one another, Suzunagi's mother crossed herself once, folding her hands together in prayer. Then, encircling the trio once more with her arms, she leaned in to look lovingly upon her daughter reborn.
"Live in the abundance of the light..."
And in the twinkling of an eye, the spring grass returned. The deep lavender of the sky was gone, replaced with the dull warmth of the April Sendai sun. The walkway leading to Seiji's house and the rooftops of the dojo were visible once more. And there, standing at the lining of cherry trees at the edges of the Date estate, were Seiji, Nasuti, and the baby Suzunagi.
And the blossoms bore witness to new life.
