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Fiction » Historical » Never Drink Sake, not even a Single Jar, Alone font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Lumi75
Fiction Rated: K - English - General - Published: 11-07-09 - Updated: 11-07-09 - Complete - id:2738759

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"Never drink sake, even a single jar, alone…"

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Kenshin & Shingen/ 9pm. Deserted Buddhist Temple somewhere in the Kanto Region.

Uesugi Kenshin rolled over on the ground, curled his legs and hugged his stomach. His face shimmered with beads of cold sweat. Thanks to indulging in large amounts of sake every night and skipping his meals, he was now attacked by a terrible bout of gastric acid. It really hurt, but he refused to show any signs of weakness, not even a moan, even though he was utterly alone in the crumbling abandoned temple that served as his shelter for the night. If only sleep would come, he could get some rest…nowadays the pain attacked more frequently and left him exhausted. He decided he needed another dose of the poison to dull his pain…Struggling to his elbows, he reached for the sake flask in his knapsack…

It wasn’t there.

Huh? He looked up. How come his sake flask was resting on the altar? And when had he lit an oil lamp as an offering to the fearsome bodhisattva statue behind it? By dint of the warm hazy glow, he glimpsed the face of Fudo surrounded by boiling clouds of fire. Once upon a time, the wood must have been richly hued rosewood, though now faded by time and covered by a thick white layer of dust and cobwebs. Yet the longer he studied it through the flickering shadows, the more the play of light and shadow brought the statue to life…he suddenly sat up and leaned forward…yes. Gazing at it, he was strongly reminded of someone he knew…

“I thought you already died, Tiger of Kai.”

“It’s boring here…plenty of people to fight with, but no worthy opponents.” Takeda Shingen replied, getting up from behind the altar to take a seat beside him.

“No way, so you’re back to bug me?” Kenshin groaned. Ignoring “Shingen”, he lay back and covered his eyes with his arm. Great. Not only was his stomach tied in knots, he was now tortured by the demons in his subconscious.

“Mmm. Thanks for the sovenuir from Echigo,” Takeda Shingen said, raising the sake bottle to his lips and draining it. “Tastes like snow.”

Shut up…Kenshin silently thought, but was unable to suppress a small smile was curving at the edge of his own lips. For some reason, Shingen’s deep, rumbling voice filled him with a sweet nostalgia, a deep sense of connection soothed away his pain. It was real nice to have Shingen beside him, even as one night’s dream. He was aware of a cool breeze ruffling his skin, smoothing away the frowns… Kenshin slept at last, deeply and painlessly. Did he really hear those words, or was it merely a dream?

“How can I let you drink alone, my old friend…?"



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