Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis does not belong to me.

A/N: I wanted to create something with a fairytale-like feel. And thus, this fic was born. Please enjoy.

WARNINGS: Weirdness. 3P.

Yanagi no Omae

~柳のお前~

...

-Yanagi-

Sanada Yukimura.

The name attracted him. At the first glance, he knew nothing about the book's author, the book's content, the book's anything, really. But that did not matter to him.

What mattered to him were the characters that spelled out such a name.

Sanada Yukimura.

He reached to pull the book from its place on the shelf.

A man in red armor posed gloriously on the front cover. A samurai. The samurai, Sanada Yukimura. Yet, it was not the samurai that Yanagi thought of when he reached for the book. It was not his intention to find a book that told of the samurai's life.

The Sanada Yukimura Yanagi was interested was not merely one soul, but two.

"Sanada Yukimura" was "Sanada and Yukimura" to him.

Beside his family, these were the two most important people in his life right now. Because they mattered to him, he decided he was going to dedicate some of his efforts to them; he was going to read all about the samurai who carried their names.

Thinking, he pulled a good amount of books from the shelf and left a noticeable void in that particular section.

…

It was a lengthy walk from the library to their home.

Regardless of the season, the sceneries on that path is always as exquisite as the paintings of a gifted artist. It was perhaps because he was mesmerized by such allure that he did not put much thought into the distance he walks each time.

When he reached to their spacious home, he immediately retired to the couch in the living room. He transferred the books onto the coffee table from the cradle of his arms.

Resting against the back of his seat, he allowed the feeling of being home soak into him completely.

Sometimes, Yanagi feels like an old man. He is only at the peak of his maturity, but his living conditions were like that of a retired elderly. While the rest of the world is running around beating time and following their busy schedules and being stressed out by work, he sits in the quiet of his home, far away from the disarray outside. While everyone else is feeling stressed and overwhelmed, he feels nothing but peace, serenity, and calm. It was almost as if he existed in another world.

Sometimes, Yanagi feels like he did not belong to this world. While many others worked their lives away receiving little compensation for the time they have given, he feels he has been rewarded too well regardless of the quality of his work. He was a writer. He dedicated the majority of his time into writing novels. That was his work. That was his only job. Yet, he thinks no writer is as fortunate as he is. While he can focus all of his energy and mind on writing, other modern day writers are forced to work elsewhere, however much they want to concentrate only on their writing. They had to find other ways of supporting themselves, because not every writer was as fortunate as he, to be a top novelist in his country. And not every writer had two very close people to support them physically and mentally.

When he closes his eyes and thinks of such things, he feels the guilt rise and crash down upon him like Heaven's justice.

Vexation wrinkled the space between his brows. He was wasting time thinking about guilt. He needed to put more effort into the story he would create.

Picking up a book from the top of the pile, he flipped through the first few pages of the author's introduction and began reading. For some time, he concentrated on nothing but the words and content on the pages.

During a moment like this, Yanagi feels even older. At a certain point, his mind wondered, attempting to synthesize the information from his reading with an idea to be used in his writing. Sometimes, the ideas he dwells upon do not flow. And in attempt to make his ideas coherent, he over-thinks and exhausts himself mentally.

That exhaustion led him to sleep. And sleep led him to dream.

...

-Sanada, Yukimura-

When they entered, they see him with his eyes closed, and an opened book laying face down on his lap.

The two exchanged looks.

They knew the other had fallen asleep thinking again. Or maybe, he was still thinking in his sleep.

Yukimura raised his index finger to his lips. Receiving the message, Sanada nodded and kept quiet.

They tiptoed into the living room. Softly, they planted themselves down on the couch where Yanagi sat slumbering. Yukimura sat on the other's right, Sanada sat on the left.

When Sanada caught Yukimura blinking at him a few times, he nodded again and leaned back with closed eyes. They would slumber with their companion.

Quite possibly, they would even dream of similar things.

...

-Yanagi-

In his dream, he was a tree. More specifically, he was a willow.

As his roots first sunk and held onto the dirt, as the soil and the sun gave him the essence of life, he was able to open his eyes. He witnessed a man carrying in his arms a newborn wrapped in luxurious silk. That became his first memory.

The man wore traditional Japanese kimono with the hakama complete with an overcoat. Yanagi would have dismissed him for a modern man if it was not for his hair. It was pulled into a top knot, the mark of a samurai.

That explained the traditional Japanese impression that was all around-the house out of the ordinary size, the little stream behind him, and the bridge of red painted wood above it. He was a willow planted during the warring period, when the samuaris roamed the country. He was also the only tree planted in their garden.

Before he could make further analysis, the scene changed around him. Soon, there were children playing around him. A feeling much like a mother's characteristic gentleness rose within him. Yet, even though he saw their bright smiling faces, he did not hear the sound of their laughter, or their sandals scraping the gravel ground as they ran playing. It was as if he did not exist in the scenery.

Or perhaps, this was what being a tree felt like: mute and deaf. All he was granted was sight and emotion.

Yet, did trees have feelings? He was a tree. He had feelings. Or maybe he thought he was a tree, while he wasn't actually one.

No, he was a tree. When he attempted to move his feet, they were stationed firmly to the ground. But, when he tried waving his hands, he felt his draping branches move lazily to his command.

And that was how he stood through the summer sun. That was how he stood through the spring rain. Some days he felt he could reach his branches up further to the sky above. While others, he felt lazy and draped his flexible branches to the grass below.

From his view in the backyard, he could usually see a boy watch him as if observing a loved one through his manifestation. The boy was one of the children who usually played around him. Yanagi knew, the boy was also the son of the samurai from his previous memories. The boy watched him through the space between the sliding doors. The boy watched him at his seat on the back veranda.

Sometimes, the boy stood before him and reached out to stroke his bark gently. The boy told him things, yet all he could do was to stare at the other's lips as they moved to form words. And he felt disappointed and forlorn because he could not hear the boy's voice.

He wondered if the boy knew he could not understand his soundless words. Why did the boy talk to him so much? Did the other not have playmates and friends? Why did he not speak to them instead? Even though he had numerous questions, he did not trouble himself in finding the answers. He could not change anything, anyway. To him, at a time when any form of communication was impossible, companionship shone like a small candle in the darkness. It was more valuable than anything.

In time, the boy was no longer a boy, but an adolescent. Even with such a transition, the other's companionship did not wane.

The adolescent, began practicing on his sword and spear in his presence. When he got tired, he rested and slept under his shade.

Then, one day, the youth took some of his draping branches. He did not mind. After all, he felt no physical pain. When the youth came again with a new three-pointed spear a few days later, and showed him his new made weapon, he knew the other had taken his branches to make the weapon. Perhaps, the youth was so used to his presence that he still wanted to keep him close, even if it was only a part of him. He was to be with the youth when the other stepped into the battlefield.

As the youth bid him farewell timelessly before departing to battles, the youth had also bid farewell to his adolescence in time. The youth was no longer young. The other aged quickly into a grown man after many battles. The other was a full-fledged samurai.

Soon, the one who he guarded ever since boyhood pledged himself as a man to another, just as he had pledged himself as a samurai to his lord. They started a family. He had children.

But he did not feel jealous, he did not feel neglected. The man still talked to him from time to time, still reached out to touch his bark and stroke at his branches, still bid him farewell before his departures. The man still remembered him and thought of him. And such thoughtfulness had already proven to him of his own importance to the other.

But then, that person did not come back for days after bidding him farewell. He continued waiting. The other did not return even after a very long time. He felt a bit sad. He knew the person was never coming back to see him or his family.

Some days later, a few men came and started digging at the ground around his roots. They shoveled until they lifted him off in his entirety. He was carried off and set on fire. He was burnt until he was reduced to a pile of ashes.

He felt no physical pain through the whole process. Just the emptiness that lasted after that person's death bothered him a bit. That was all.

His remnants, his ashes, were put into a ceramic canister. Another's ashes were already inside. It was that person's ashes.

Realizing that he could keep the other company eternally, he became content. And that content filled the emptiness he had felt before.

He closed his eyes and slept through his final memory.

...

-Sanada, Yukimura-

They awaken. Their eyes opened to the reality before their eyes, their home, the couch they sat on, and the sound of time ticking away in seconds on the wall. They were back to their reality. Yet, they remember the placed that they have just traveled to.

It was as authentic as their reality now. At least, that is what clear memory tells them.

Almost instinctively, they turn to their companion between them.

The other's cheeks were wet with tears.

Assuming their companion was having a nightmare, they sought to arouse him from sleep.

"Renji." "Renji!"

...

-Sanada, Yukimura, Yanagi-

"Renji." "Renji!"

Two voices. Both were calling him.

Yanagi awoke. He opened his eyes completely and saw two worried faces hovering in front of him. The book that he had been reading laid face down on his lap. He must have fallen asleep while reading.

His eyes remained opened. It has become a habit now, especially these two people have asked him to keep his eyes opened for them. Seiichi had said it revealed much of his emotions, making him easier to read and at the same time, more attractive to them. When Genichirou had blushed awkwardly at this comment, Yanagi knew he agreed to such a statement as well.

When two hands rubbed at the corners of his eyes and the plains of his cheeks he realized the moisture there. Something must have caused his sadness.

Then he remembered his dream.

"What happened?" The firm and deep voice from his left. Genichirou's voice.

"Did you have a nightmare?" The soft and gentle voice from his right. Seiichi's voice.

Yanagi blinked a couple of times and looked at them.

"I had a dream." He started, eyes flooded with the dreamy color nostalgia. "It was during the Warring Period. I became the object of my name. I became a willow.

"A boy's father had planted me in his family's yard when the boy was born. I watched as the boy grew day by day, until he became a samurai, until he passed away."

"...Did you cry because you felt sad about the samurai's death?"

"Perhaps." Even he, himself, was not sure. "Yet, I wonder how a tree, a willow, a plant would have such humanly feelings? Or maybe, I was only dreaming of becoming a willow, but deep down I still remembered that I was a human being. Deep down, I kept my feelings because I knew that I had feelings.

"But then, I wonder. Maybe, those, too, were not my feelings. How did I feel sad about the samurai's death when I did not even know who he was? Perhaps, I have inherited someone else's feelings."

"Do you think that you were a spirit trapped inside the willow tree?"

Yanagi thought about the suggestion.

"...A willow spirit..." Usually, he would not accept such a possibility for it lacked scientific reasoning and could not be calculated mathematically. But, that was the Yanagi Renji of the past. That was when he was a data analyst. Now, he was a writer. He did not reject anything as a writer. He enjoyed analyzing dreams as if it was a good piece of literature.

"It could be more than a willow spirit." Yukimura shrugged looked over to the man on Yanagi's left. "You've been awfully quiet there, Genichirou. What do you think?"

Sanada shook his head.

"I don't know if it is a willow spirit or not." He said seriously. "All I know is, I am that samurai in your dream."

"That samurai..." Yukimura smiled, unsurprised by Sanada's revelation. "That was Sanada Yukimura, was it not?"

Sanada was surprised as Yanagi.

"Seiichi... Did you...?"

"Yes, I did. I had the same dream as you." Yukimura nodded, smiling. He chuckled softly then. "It's funny. After all those jokes that our classmates made out of our names, we ended up dreaming about being that same samurai."

Sanada's lips lifted at the corners. He understood the irony.

"Perhaps you two are two halves of the same spirit... Sanada Yukimura's spirit." Yanagi suggested.

"…just like you are the spirit of the willow tree..." Yukimura finished and turned his gaze back to Yanagi. "You were in my dream. Or rather, the willow that you became in your dream, was what my dream focused on..."

Sanada nodded, acknowledging Yukimura's words. He directed his gaze over to Yanagi as well.

"All I could think about in my dream is that willow. Yet, I do not know whether it is that willow that I am silently calling out to," his eyes almost dripping with gentleness, "or if it was your name that I was thinking of. All that ran through my mind the entire time was: Yanagi. Yanagi. Yanagi..."

He muttered with so much affection that Yanagi almost felt himself melt.

"But why...?" He heard himself ask. "Why was it that you were so focused upon that willow tree? Should it not be something else that should have mattered to you more? Something like the war? And if not that, should it not be someone else that should have mattered to you more? Like your family, your other half and your children? Why was the willow tree the focus of your dreams?"

What did the willow tree mean to the samurai, Sanada Yukimura?

Just like, as he examined their relationship now, the three of them living under one roof, he questioned: What did he, Yanagi Renji, mean to the two of them, Sanada Genichirou and Yukimura Seiichi? If Genichirou and Seiichi were really from the same spirit, then should they not care more about each other? Should they not be lovers? But instead, their focus is upon him. And their lover is not each other, but him.

Yukimura's hand patted gently at his shoulder.

"Ne, Renji, you are over-thinking again."

"Because it was such a chaotic time, one could not be sure if he will live to see the sun rise the next morning. Just like, the friend and ally you are fighting with one day could become your worst enemy the next day." Sanada explained, his eyes cold and distant when he explained the emotions he felt from the samurai he became in his dream. When he recovered, his gaze softened and became relief instead. "Situations change from day to day. People change from day to day. But, one thing was for sure."

He smiled at him, the gentleness in his expression contrasting greatly against his usual serious countenance. And Yanagi felt as if he was still dreaming of the times that person smiled at him the same way.

"The willow tree that stood in the yard was always there. It always kept me company. While it witnessed my growth, I witnessed its growth." Yukimura continued, giving Yanagi the impression that one voice had been talking throughout. And perhaps, that was so. After all, they both shared one spirit-Sanada Yukimura's spirit. Or, at least, it was decided that they shared a single spirit.

"And at the end of my life, it would just be natural for the tree's life to end too...however unnatural the tree's death was..."

"That dream that has connected us...it really makes me think... If the two of us combined are Sanada Yukimura, and you are his willow, then I wonder if this life, our meeting, our relationship now were all just a coincidence, were all fated and meant to be..." Yukimura trailed off.

"It is worth thinking about." Sanada folded his arms across his chest.

Yanagi nodded. It was worth thinking about. He looked down to the book on his lap. And the conversation they are having now will definitely be helpful to him in forming new ideas about the upcoming book he is to compose.

He will compose a story about the legendary samurai that no writer has yet written about.

END NOTES:

"Yanagi no Omae" roughly translates to "you who are a willow." A metaphor. Sounds weird, I know. But some foreign titles just sound weird translated. Or maybe, I do not have the ability to make a smooth translation yet.

"Reincarnation" is the belief that the soul, upon death of the body, comes back to earth in another body or form (source: dictionary dot com). This plays a major role in the Buddhist belief. Sometimes, it is even possible for people to have significant dreams, such that they dream of small details or fragments of their past lives. The dreams that Yanagai, Sanada, and Yukimura had in this fic were meant to be snapshots of their past life.

"Sanada Yukimura" Those of you who played Samurai Warriors should know pretty well who this is. Since I would have just ripped some info off of wiki, you have the honor to research more about him. (XD)

"Sanada Yukimura" vs "Sanada and Yukimura" vs "Genichirou and Seiichi" Note the difference of each during each part of the fanfic. Note the context when each of these are used. Sanada Yukimura is significant in history and in Yanagi's dream. Sanada and Yukimura relates to Sanada Yukimura in the past and the reality they live in now. And Genichirou and Seiichi are important to Yanagi in the present. Yes, sounds like a big tongue-twister, I know. But that is what symbolism is sometimes.

The idea about Yanagi becoming a famous writer came upon me when I saw the CD cover to his "Ore no Nihonkai." And I thought, he looks much like the uncle from Hana no Namae (who happens to be a writer).

On the side note, when I started writing this a few weeks ago, I stopped halfway because I was weirded out by the 3P relationship portrayed here. It was especially hard to write YukiYana since it is like nonexistent in the fanfic world. But then, I read these two REALLY GOOD YukiYana fics (no joke). Plus I saw these GORGEOUS YukiYana fanart. So, I really want to thank the authors of those two fics and the artist of those fanart! Thank you! (PS If you are interested in seeing the fanart, I have posted the link to that site in my profile).

Special recommendation: Tom Cruise's The Last Samurai. Very deep and symbolic. Makes you think, especially of the ironies of life. Surprisingly, this movie was not as popular in the US as it was in Japan when it was released...