Title: Hagakure / In the shadow of leaves
Summary: In which Japan offers Greece a kinky lesson in the way of samurai, among other things. De-anon from the kinkmeme, with minor edits. Prompt was "Japan dresses as a samurai for Greece."
Warnings: Japan being the ultimate tease, stripping the warrior code down to its basics. Pun intended.
- A diagram of the tosei-gusoku armour for better visualisation: http:(doubleslash)i52(dot)tinypic(dot)com(slash)2j4el92(dot)jpg
It starts, as always, with a request; a simple, "I would like to visit and see samurai this time, if that's all right with you."
And like always, Japan replies; first with a polite bow – out of habit, of course, since Greece can't see it as they spoke through the phone – and then with a "Ah, of course, Greece-san. I would be happy to show you."
Greece sits now, cross-legged on the zabuton, gazing out into the garden. He watches as Pochi rolls about in a pile of ginkgo leaves. Beside him, Tama has his paw held up midway, contemplating whether to bat at a stray leaf stuck to the white dog's tail. The tiny cat watches, his fur twitching excitedly. Succumbing to the swish of Pochi's tail – left, right, left – he pounces, and both dog and cat wrestle each other playfully, kicking up a miniature storm of gold beneath the tree. Greece smiles, bemused, and sips at the hot tea Japan had graciously served him with earlier.
There is a chill in the breeze that circles softly through the garden, rustling the yellowing leaves of the ginkgo, before gliding toward the veranda and Greece feels the crispness of autumn prickle against his cheeks. He watches Japan's pets a while longer before he begins to wonder where his host had disappeared off to. After setting down the tea and cakes for Greece, Japan had excused himself. Preparations, he had murmured apologetically. Greece wonders now if it has to do with their plans today – they are going to visit some exhibits later, after all.
Just as he thinks of going to look for his host, he hears the soft shuffle of feet. Greece looks around behind him, only to be greeted with an intriguing sight: Japan stands, seriousness etched upon his features, and now dressed in an impressive suit of armour. Greece can still see the royal-blue hakama that Japan wears; the soft fabric peeks out from the corners, underneath layers of iron and lacquered leather, painstakingly fasten together with rivets and woven with red and gold silk braids.
As always, Greece doesn't bat an eyelid, tilting his head sideways instead, eyebrows quirked slightly. The green of his eyes are aglow as he sweeps an inquisitive glance over his friend.
And like always, Japan coughs softly, the shadow of a blush dusting lightly across his cheeks before he settles himself next to Greece, sitting in seiza.
They watch each other for a silent moment. Then Japan finally speaks, "Greece-san."
Greece scrutinizes the armour's designs – a snarling tiger, its claws splayed wide, framed with delicate vines – emblazoned over Japan's chest, before he lifts his gaze to meet the other's.
"It's very grand." He says appreciatively. "Is this from one of Japan's own collections?"
Japan nods. "A gift from a soldier from long ago." He gazes intently at Greece, his features characteristically stoic. "You've mentioned before that you'd like to see samurai, and I was thinking there aren't many of them left, so..."
Japan's eyes are brighter today, with a similar kind of furtive enthusiasm Greece sometimes notices in his cats when they bring home prey, expecting him to be delightfully surprised by their bounty. The thought makes Greece's smile wider. "So you decided to dress as one just for me? Well, you are probably the one true samurai left."
Japan feels his cheeks colour again, but dips his head politely. "I thought you might like to study it up-close instead of just through glass panels."
A quiet laugh, and Greece's nose crinkle with affection. "That I do." He reaches out to run his hand slowly over the designs adorned on Japan's armour, feeling the cold smoothness of the iron and lacquered leather before tracing a finger over the rivets shaped like cherry flowers.
"It looks very elegant," he says, brows knitted thoughtfully. "And very complicated. It must be quite a feat alone just to put it on."
"It may look a little overwhelming at first, but it's really not too difficult. The full armour consists of many individual pieces, to make it easier to put on." Here, Japan raises his arm to show Greece how the body-armour is separate from his arm guards.
Greece leans closer for a better look, intrigued. "What are they called?"
With his left hand, Japan gently takes Greece's palm in his and guides him to feel the leather and iron plates over his shoulders. "The sode, or shoulder protectors, are suspended from the body armour itself, and can be easily removed when needed." He then flicks the metal fastenings loose, and carefully sets them aside before lifting his right arm straight out before him.
"The armoured sleeves, called kote, are fashioned as silk brocades with iron plates and chain mail sewn into them. These serve as protection for the arm and hands." Japan turns his hand around, palm facing outwards to show Greece the silk braids wrapped across the length of his arm in a network of intricate laces.
"Won't it get tangled up at times?" the Grecian asks softly, watching intently as Japan traces his fingers slowly across the bindings, the paleness of each finger contrasting sharply against the black of the iron plates and the richness of the blue cloth underneath the kote.
Japan's lips curve into a small smile, and Greece can see quiet pride reflected in his eyes. "That's the beauty of samurai armour. While it's very detailed and grand, it is still designed for practicality, so the parts can be easily removed as needed."
If he noticed Greece's appreciative gaze over him, Japan does not show it. Instead, he lets his fingers grasp the end of the laces of the arm guard, and then gently, almost coyly pulls them loose. The laces slip easily over the fabric, making a soft rustling noise that evokes in Greece memories of nights in Japan's bed; of heat and delicious sweat, of unfettered gasps in the dark...
"Is everything all right, Greece-san? Was my explanation too lengthy?"
Greece blinks, and then lifts his head to meet Japan's steady gaze. Japan's expression is still impassive, although there is… there is something else in those dark eyes that the Grecian can't quite read, but he suspects nonetheless.
"No, no, your explanations are fine." he replies. He shakes his head a little, reminding himself to focus on the lesson at hand. "Please go on."
Japan nods then, before he slips his arms out of the kote, revealing the sleeves of robe he wears beneath the armour. He rests his right hand over the iron shell of the armour enclosed around his torso.
"The body armour itself is called the dō and this particular design is known as tosei-gusoku. At the bottom of the dō is where you attach the kusazuri, a skirt of metal plates to protect the upper thighs and hips."
Japan trails his hand steadily, almost teasingly across his chest then, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Greece's, his gaze intense. Greece finds himself drawn to the movement, even as he tries his best to maintain eye contact. Japan doesn't seem to mind however, and Greece swears that he glimpsed a fleeting smirk across the corners of the other man's lips.
When his fingers reach the left end of his torso, Japan deftly unfastens the cords that holds the armour shut and slides it off, the kusazuri clinking softly like metal chimes. A simple action as such should not be so arousing, Greece thinks to himself. But Greece has always liked to watch Japan when he does things; when he dons an apron and ties a scarf over his hair to prepare dinner in the kitchen, or when he meticulously sweeps up the dried leaves in the garden. He has always liked watching Japan, and he especially likes to watch Japan undress himself.
With the dō removed, Greece can clearly see now the sheerness of the blue hitatare covering Japan's torso, the gentle slope of his collarbone peeking out from the hem. As if he knew where Greece's eyes are trained at, Japan chooses then to skirt a finger tentatively over his collarbone, drawing Greece's attention ever more to imagine what it must feel like to brush that rosy pink skin with his own fingers and how it would taste like if he can run his own tongue down the length of Japan's neck to his chest and nipples...
The light clink of metal breaks Greece from his amorous musings to focus once more on the remaining parts of Japan's samurai armour. He watches intently as Japan proceeds to remove the thigh guards ("–haidate–")and the greaves ("–suneate–") wrapped around his shins. And suddenly Japan is just Japan, dressed only in his simple hakama and hitatare, and his obi must have gotten loose somehow during his lesson on samurai armour. The knot hangs limp now, ready to be pulled off easily with just a gentle tug... Greece lifts his gaze to meets Japan's, sees the fervor within those dark eyes, alluring and inviting, and he can't hold back any longer.
Greece moves then, one hand cupping that picture-perfect face to bring it closer to him, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. With his other hand, he pulls off the blue robes at the same time it takes Japan to remove all of Greece's clothing. They continue to kiss deeply, teeth gently nipping over sensitive spots and fingers trailing over skin. Greece takes Japan's wrist in his hand, pulling him close to press their bodies together. He flicks his tongue slowly, teasingly over the roof of Japan's mouth, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure from him.
Japan can be perverse, with a fondness for bonds, among other odd kinks. He is aware of this, of his own perversion, but with the actual physical act itself, he is usually reserved; always in control, always proper. Intimacy is sacred, after all, and affection for another does not need to be overdone, especially not before public eyes.
But with Greece, it is always different. With Greece, he finds himself relaxing, gradually disregarding all reservations in favour of the burning desire within. With Greece, Japan foregoes all sense of propriety, allowing himself to be swept away by these many sensations and to give into the lust that Greece so often evokes in him. He gently pushes Greece down on the tatami mat to straddle over him, planting feather-soft kisses over toned muscles, lingering only to deliver a soft bite here and a teasing nibble there.
Greece lets out a quiet moan as Japan continues to kiss and lick, feeling his breath against his skin and the enticing wetness as Japan trails his tongue tantalizingly downwards. He gasps, bucking his hips upwards when Japan kisses at the growing warmth between his thighs. Japan knows Greece enjoys this, when he takes on the role of nenja and plays the assertive lover – remnants of a shared tradition, of mutual erotic attraction and of aesthetic pleasure – the way of youths, it is called. It lets his partner laze for a bit, but Japan suspects that Greece enjoys it more because he loves glimpsing this fierce, raw hunger Japan displays only when they are entangled together like this.
He shudders as Japan traces his fingers down his sides, from his ribs to the slope of his hip bone, gasping in pleasure when Japan's hand finally encircles him and begins to pump. Toes curling and fingers digging into the tatami mat, Greece writhes as Japan laps at the glans, trailing a moist tongue teasingly around the length of his shaft. He curses softly at the sight of Japan being so unintentionally (or not) seductive and Greece is almost certain he will lose it before Japan can even take him.
Just as he nears his peak, Japan abruptly pulls away, releasing his hold and Greece has to bite back a hiss of protest. He wraps his thighs around Japan's waist, want burning in his gut, trying to draw his partner closer. Japan laughs softly then, and Greece feels the feathery brush of his hair as Japan kisses all over his body again, teeth nipping at flesh before he aligns himself and then, gently, oh so gently, eases himself in.
Greece's breath hitches as Japan stretches and fills him, completely sheathing himself in. His short, sharp gasps gradually increase in volume as Japan begins to grind and roll his hips, thrusting deep into him. He feels his skin flaring and tastes the salty tang of sweat upon his lips as Japan continues to move; a musician so skilled in his playing that Greece feels the coils within the pit of his belly stretched out taut like the strings of a shamisen.
Japan moves, sliding in and out over that sweet, delicious spot and then Greece feels the overwhelming rush of heat, feels the coils finally snapping like a spring and he arches his back, crying out at the peak of his climax. A hiss and a groan, fingers clawing desperately at tanned shoulders, and then Japan follows suit, riding out the last waves of intense pleasure before he sinks back down beside Greece.
Sated, they lay in silence for a moment, waiting for their breaths to settle, their skin slick with sweat and their cheeks flushed with post-coital bliss.
"You know," the Grecian finally says, rolling himself to his side. "As sore as my ass is going to be later, this was possibly one of the best lays I've had. We should try out more of your kinks next time."
Japan coughs, a slight blush tinged across his cheeks. "Please express it more mildly, I̱raklí̱s."
As always, Greece chuckles softly then, eyes filled with mirth, before he draws close to entangle their bodies again.
And like always, Japan sighs, but allows himself a tiny smirk anyway, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss once more.
Translations and Notes:
Hagakure – literally meaning 'hidden by the leaves' or simply, 'hidden leaves'. It is a practical and spiritual guide for a warrior, drawn from a collection of commentaries by the samurai Yamamoto Tsunetomo. Tsuramoto Tashiro compiled these commentaries from his conversations with Tsunetomo from 1709 to 1716. Hagakure is also known as The Book of the Samurai, Analects of Nabeshima or Hagakure Analects. According to how it is written in kanji, Hagakure can also mean 'hidden virtues', 'hidden service' and also 'hidden love'.
zanbuton– Japanese cushion for sitting
seiza– 'proper sitting'; the traditional formal way of sitting, kneeling on the floor with legs folding underneath the thighs while resting the rear on the heels.
nenja – the older partner in a shudō relationship. Much like how pederasty was practiced in Ancient Greece, the nenja acts as a mentor to the wakashū ('young person'), teaching him martial skills, warrior etiquette and the samurai code of honor, while desiring to be a good role model to his younger apprentice. The nenja was usually the active, desiring, penetrative partner with the wakashū playing more of the submissive partner.
wakashūdo or shudō – 'the way of youths'
- Kiku looking all badass and hawt in samurai gear: http:(doubleslash)i52(dot)tinypic(dot)com(slash)11173mh(dot)jpg
- The actual samurai gear I used as reference for the description of Kiku's armour. That is one funny kabuto/helmet, lol: http:(doubleslash)www(dot)giuseppepiva(dot)com(slash)index(dot)php(slash)okegawa-do-gusoku-kariya(dot)html
- While it is not impossible for a samurai to wear his own armour by himself, usually they have someone else to help them put on the gear. Let's just pretend that Japan is very skilled with his hands. Hurr.
- I tried my best to work in shudō as per the bonus request ('Japan gives Greece a hands-on demonstration of the practice of shudō.') It proved to be somewhat difficult, though, so the best I could do was some small allusions to the practice x_X
- I-I know I said no more kinkmeme fills for the moment… but, um, um... my muse is fickle o7 Plus I mean, Japan in samurai gear. How can I not fill this prompt? That said, I was feeling all embarrassed writing this fill out (in a good way, I suppose) because I... well, basically it's all shameless and kinky costume porn isn't it? lol.
- Critiques/comments are always welcomed. I hope you enjoy reading this.