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Only fools fall in love.
It wasn't meant to work out. It was never meant to work out with him.Your smile shines like the sun, lighting up every corner of the room. Eyes sparkling like stars, the heavy flush of sake and tender affection combined to make your cheeks flush with delight. You giggle gently, a hand tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you smile shyly at him.
Hideyoshi.
Said warlord currently has his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to whisper something in your ear. A secret, softly murmured between lovers, that no outsider would understand. You explode with laughter, swatting him gently on the arm.Mitsuhide watches the two of you from the corner of the room, sake cup never more than an inch away from his lips. He swallows it, bitterly, the burning sensation affecting him unusually so. Every time you giggle or laugh at his jokes, or blush when he kisses you, it feels like Mitsuhide’s being shot through the heart. You're off in your own world, not paying attention to anyone other than Hideyoshi.And Mitsuhide hates himself for it. He
should be the one to hold you like that, he
should be the one whispering affection and love into your ears, he
should be the one seeing all of your beautiful emotions when he teases you. But his face is a stoic mask, never revealing anything he doesn’t want to be known.A rueful smile playing about his lips, he murmurs something into the sake. “To think that a girl like you could pierce the heart of a snake like me… you truly are special, Princess.” He finishes, tossing back the cup.Your laughter rings through the room, shrieking, piercing through the din of soldiers all laughing and drinking together. Mitsuhide looks up- just in time to see Hideyoshi pull you close and plant an affectionate kiss on your lips. The others hoot and holler, cheering the two of you on. But Mitsuhide’s heart is tightening, constricting painfully, throat choking up at the sight of you kissing another man.It hurts. It's like having a thousand arrows pierce him at once, slicing him into a million little pieces until there’s nothing of him left alive.He stands up, skillfully navigating through the room so no one notices him. From another corner, he can see Masamune glancing at him, but turns his face so that he doesn't have to meet the latter’s eyes.Once he’s outside, standing in the hallway, he takes a deep breath, the sharp night air clearing his head. Closing his eyes, he enjoys the cool silence, his only company the pale moon and twinkling stars high up in the sky. The memory flashes in his head once more:
Hideyoshi pulling you closer to him, lips brushing against your own mouth…….Mitsuhide’s eyes dart open. He glances over his shoulder, back inside to the party. You've pulled away, blushing furiously; the other warlords are teasing you mercilessly. No one has noticed his disappearance. As he watches silently, you bury your face in Hideyoshi’s shoulder to escape the whistles and gales of laughter. Hideyoshi strokes your hair softly, smiling down gently at you in his arms.For a second the image vanishes, and Mitsuhide sees himself there in Hideyoshi’s place, with you in his arms… Then, with a condemning smile, he strolls down the corridor. Between the two of them, there's no room for him.
Once, Mitsuhide's wandering the hallways late at night, finally finished with his duties, when he happens to pass by your room."Mn, please-Hideyoshi don't tease-!!"It's your voice. It's unmistakable. He stops dead in the corridor, listening to your voice in the otherwise silent hallway. Already he can picture you, hair and kimono disheveled, cheeks flushed pink, face twisted in pleasure as you desperately search for something to hold on to……The blood turns to ice in his veins. Picking up his feet once more, Mitsuhide lets his body roam on autopilot as his mind wanders. Once he reaches his room, he goes straight to the back, where a huge oak bookshelf stands against the wall. Pushing aside the books on tactical evasive maneuvers and poison handbooks, he takes out the large, polished mahogany box. Flipping open the lid, he's greeted by the sight of a vast array of glass bottles.All of them exotic and expensive liquors.One particular bottle stands out from the rest, set apart by a distinct deep red glass. Mitsuhide plucks it out, turning it over and over in his hands. It’s a rare type of alcohol from the northern regions, known to be potent enough to intoxicate a man with a single drop and leave him sick for days. Replacing the box, Mitsuhide takes the little red bottle and a flask of ordinary sake and sit down at his desk.Carefully, he uncorks the bottle and tips it over his cup, letting five drops fall- enough to kill an ordinary man. Then he pours a healthy dosage of sake and picks up the cup, draining it in a single gulp.By the sixth cup of sake, even with his godly alcohol tolerance, Mitsuhide’s starting to feel the effects of the toxic poison running in his system. The edges of his vision are starting to blur and run together into a mess of colors and shadow. On impulse, he turns his head to the right, where you would normally sit.Instead, he’s greeted by gold eyes that glow in the dim candlelight and a smirk that curls up cruelly. The tall mirror in the corner of the room glitters in the moonlight, and he sees himself, smirking holding a cup to his mouth.“You didn't expect her to really
love you back, did you?” The reflection grins as it asks him, the smirk stretching into something deeper and sinister.Mitsuhide drops his eyes, staring down into his now empty cup. Filling it up once more-how many is this?- he tosses it back, draining it completely. Wiping his mouth, he sets it down on the table, the harsh clack ringing throughout the room. “No.” The voice that comes out is dead, icy, steeled beyond all emotion.The reflection chuckles at his response. “Of course you didn't. No one can love a lying snake like you. Isn't that correct?” It coos at him.Mitsuhide is silent.
When he wakes up the next morning, Mitsuhide can't shake the cold, clammy feeling that runs down his spine. The sunlight streaming in through the window does nothing to warm him up; he’s cold as ice. As he dresses, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. A closer look reveals eyes lined with red. A face that looks hellish- or at the very least, close to it.Stepping out of his room for his daily chores, Mitsuhide is surprised by you, passing by in front of his room and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. His lips stretch into that teasing smirk. “Morning dear chatelaine, Did you have a good rest?”You instantly go red. From your reaction, it's clear that you aren't ruddy from the cold air creeping through the halls. Smacking him on the shoulder, you snap, “Yes! I had a wonderful night!”Embarrassment flits across your face, and as you turn away he can make out evidence of the night of passion he’d overheard. Mitsuhide’s heart crumples into itself. The barest of shivers run down his spine; it’s unusually cold for this late in winter. On instinct, he grabs your hand, brushing his lips across it in that teasing, playful manner of his.“Oh? You're blushing. Not thinking of anything naughty, now, are you?” You wrench your hand back immediately, turning an even brighter shade of red. Mitsuhide’s throat closes up; it’s getting hard to swallow, and even harder to breathe.“Shut up.” You walk past him, hair streaming out behind you. He watches you go by, not saying anything, acutely aware of the
heartbeats slowing down in his chest. I need to tell her. At least once.
I love you.
“Princess.” His voice rings out in the corridor, deeper than usual. You stop, turning back to look at him. His face is unusually stony, serious without any trace of the teasing look that was there earlier.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
“I-”The world shatters, collapsing around him before he can finish.“Mitsuhide!”