Overview

Title: Hierarchy

Author: Xanagar

Part: One Shot

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Angst

Series: Samurai Sentai Shinkenger

Pairing(s): Takeru/Chiaki

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Samurai Sentai Shinkenger, nor did I gain any profit from producing this fan fiction.

Warning(s)

This story (however short and/or crude) contains romance between two males. Which means they both have penises. Do the math.

Author's Note

I don't care how unrealistic it is. We all know Gunpei and Hant would never actually be together either, regardless of how damningly obvious their attraction might be. So I've decided to broaden where I left off last time. That, and I recently came across a collection of photographs with Shogo Suzuki and Tori Matsuzaka together. Dear God. Find two men more gorgeous, and I'll find you a paradox.

Ironically, I listened to Coldplay's "Lovers in Japan" while writing this. I'm such a hopeless 'tard.


Hierarchy


Chiaki wanted to say something. He wanted to burst forth from this metaphorical shell he found himself trapped in, unable to properly express himself. It wasn't his fault; really, it wasn't anyone's. This was just the way things were, the way things had always been. It was part of tradition, embedded into the roots of their generation and the generations before them, a hierarchy he couldn't necessarily touch.

Had it been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have bothered with trying so hard. But this was different. He could not, in any crevice of his mind, come across any time in his memories that he had ever felt so strongly for a cause. It mattered too much to him for him to simply back down. And yet, what could he do? He was a retainer; there were rules, naturally, to be upheld.

Even within the confines of their dwelling, those rules still mattered, still held some kind of significance. Especially to Takeru. He was, after all, the lord. Chiaki believed that he, of all the Shinkengers, had a specific role, a distinct namesake to honor. The idea of possibly besmirching such a title seemed blasphemous even in Chiaki's head. There was no imaginable way that Takeru would ever budge, not as long as they remained here, in this strange time warp of a scenario that, even now, still caused Chiaki to sigh in a dramatically heavy way. Such was the life of a Shinkenger, he told himself.

Because of his limitations, he was forced to watch from afar. It wasn't the most ideal situation, no, but it was at least something. And there were other benefits, too. During their battles, Chiaki would admire the profound fighting skills of his lord, the way he maneuvered his blade so gracefully, never faltering. It was a spectacle one only dreams about witnessing, and even then cannot fully comprehend.

They argued on occasions – this wasn't a surprise to Chiaki; they did have the biggest personalities of the group – but even those rare occasions seemed like inflamed seconds of passion, like fantastic moments of synchronization between the two of them. Or, at least, that's what Chiaki thought. Realistically, he knew that Takeru had much bigger things on his mind. Surely the constant barrages from the Gedoushuu were much more burdening to him. Distantly, Chiaki wondered if Takeru had even ever experienced love before, the sensation of wanting and being wanted in return, the heated moments of numbness. He wondered if it were even possible to be a lord and, at the same time, love another human being.

Maybe, maybe not. And maybe someday Chiaki would find the courage to break the holds of tradition, of binding social hierarchy, to ask him himself.