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May. 18th, 2015 11:48 pmA round mirror-moon shines bright tonight over the road to Chugoku. The second watch has just been called at camp, the fires are banked, the tents and bedrolls suffused with silence, young soldiers dreaming of glory and old soldiers dreaming of home. And Hashiba Hideyoshi, grand commander of Lord Oda Nobunaga's forces in the West, is skulking through the kitchens looking for tea and midnight snacks.
He isn't normally given to insomnia - who has time for not sleeping when you can, when so often there just isn't time for sleeping? - especially not when the day of marching has been long, and the days ahead promise to be longer yet. Chugoku, the West... finally. Not surprising, but exciting, definitely that. It's a way from Owari, stronghold of the remarkable Mouri clan, a plum assignment, here they are - the tip of Nobunaga's outreached sword, the spreading flames of the Oda clan's fires across the disputed land...
No, Hideyoshi thinks to himself, face twisted in a faint scowl as he pauses in shifting aside the flap of the camp's central kitchen tent. That's not a very good metaphor at all. Where did he even come up with this one? He shakes his head as he slips on, footpads soft, blinking owlishly at the yellow lamplight. That's exactly it, this is just the kind of nonsense keeping him up, wondering if this was finally when he'd bitten off more than he can chew. These kind of thoughts will have to go someday, if he's serious about this business of being a lord and a samurai. One day they'll go. It's just about bad habits.
In the meantime, a full belly is a good cure for a full head. Hideyoshi creeps through the tent, putting a shushing finger to his lips when he startles one of the poor kitchen boys awake. He smiles at the kid, but only gets wide eyes and a terrified scamper out the tent in return. Must be new, that one, not to be used to his lord's antics. Ah well. He sighs. This probably means a chain reaction. People coming by to see if he was all right, Mitsunari or Kanbei or even Hanbei, though Mitsunari and Kanbei are big worrywarts and Hanbei could really use his sleep. Loyal retainers, looking after all his needs... he really only needs a bit of tea and maybe a sweet bun. It's a problem with the system, that it doesn't let a man have a simple sitdown to a simple meal...
He's not used to that, either, not even after years. Maybe this will go away too, someday. Maybe lordship will somday catch up with him.
In the meantime, he's perfectly capable of stirring a banked fire, setting up a kettle. Just like he used to do for Lord Nobunaga, before, when all he was required to do for his lord was warm his tea and his sandals rather than go off conquering major clans. And because there's no one to wake up in the tent anymore, Hideyoshi hums and whistles happily as the water boils. A simple tea, the kind that the soldiers drink in ladles right from the pot. It smells good as it colours the water. There's no moonlight in the tent, which is just fine too, too poetic, that moon business; he toasts the low, yellow light of the lamp.
"Being a big guy means big worries, eh?" he raises the bowl at no one in particular. "Here's to a great victory feast! Lots of sweet buns!" Keep it simple, stupid. Don't think about outreached swords and spreading flames at all. At least finish a bowl of tea before someone shows up and carts you off to lie in a lordly bed and stare sleeplessly at a lordly roof again.
He isn't normally given to insomnia - who has time for not sleeping when you can, when so often there just isn't time for sleeping? - especially not when the day of marching has been long, and the days ahead promise to be longer yet. Chugoku, the West... finally. Not surprising, but exciting, definitely that. It's a way from Owari, stronghold of the remarkable Mouri clan, a plum assignment, here they are - the tip of Nobunaga's outreached sword, the spreading flames of the Oda clan's fires across the disputed land...
No, Hideyoshi thinks to himself, face twisted in a faint scowl as he pauses in shifting aside the flap of the camp's central kitchen tent. That's not a very good metaphor at all. Where did he even come up with this one? He shakes his head as he slips on, footpads soft, blinking owlishly at the yellow lamplight. That's exactly it, this is just the kind of nonsense keeping him up, wondering if this was finally when he'd bitten off more than he can chew. These kind of thoughts will have to go someday, if he's serious about this business of being a lord and a samurai. One day they'll go. It's just about bad habits.
In the meantime, a full belly is a good cure for a full head. Hideyoshi creeps through the tent, putting a shushing finger to his lips when he startles one of the poor kitchen boys awake. He smiles at the kid, but only gets wide eyes and a terrified scamper out the tent in return. Must be new, that one, not to be used to his lord's antics. Ah well. He sighs. This probably means a chain reaction. People coming by to see if he was all right, Mitsunari or Kanbei or even Hanbei, though Mitsunari and Kanbei are big worrywarts and Hanbei could really use his sleep. Loyal retainers, looking after all his needs... he really only needs a bit of tea and maybe a sweet bun. It's a problem with the system, that it doesn't let a man have a simple sitdown to a simple meal...
He's not used to that, either, not even after years. Maybe this will go away too, someday. Maybe lordship will somday catch up with him.
In the meantime, he's perfectly capable of stirring a banked fire, setting up a kettle. Just like he used to do for Lord Nobunaga, before, when all he was required to do for his lord was warm his tea and his sandals rather than go off conquering major clans. And because there's no one to wake up in the tent anymore, Hideyoshi hums and whistles happily as the water boils. A simple tea, the kind that the soldiers drink in ladles right from the pot. It smells good as it colours the water. There's no moonlight in the tent, which is just fine too, too poetic, that moon business; he toasts the low, yellow light of the lamp.
"Being a big guy means big worries, eh?" he raises the bowl at no one in particular. "Here's to a great victory feast! Lots of sweet buns!" Keep it simple, stupid. Don't think about outreached swords and spreading flames at all. At least finish a bowl of tea before someone shows up and carts you off to lie in a lordly bed and stare sleeplessly at a lordly roof again.
