Chapter Text

Azuchi was a hive of frantic activity. The Oda lord’s near death experience, and the lucky charm that pulled him from the fire were on everyone’s tongue. Mitsuhide could barely track the rumors that swirled through the castle and town. A mysterious princess, a ghost woman, even a kitsune pretending to be a maiden … no one seemed to know who the chatelaine was, where she came from, or how she wound up in Honno-ji the night Nobunaga almost died.

It was vexing to not know more than the common rabble. Mitsuhide could not credit any of the stories, but he had nothing better to explain the girl’s presence. He knew a few things for certain. One, the girl was surely the only reason Nobunaga escaped the burning building. Two, she was quite beautiful. And three, she was not from Azuchi or any nearby village. Her accent and mannerisms were strange to him. Her behavior was even more bizarre. A heady mix of naivete, bravery, intelligence, and profound ignorance. 

Mitsuhide suspected her appearance at Honno-ji was no coincidence. She was working with someone, but to what end? He did not know. Clearly, she had an agenda though. She was forging contacts with lords and their servants, setting suspicions to rest. Gaining their confidence as any good agent would.

Tonight the chatelaine sat with Masamune and Ieyasu, laughing and chatting as if she was used to the company of warlords and princes. And she had them wrapped around her little finger already. All of them, saving perhaps, Oda Nobunaga. He sat at the head of the table, his flat, dark eyes always watching.

“You shouldn’t have so many sweets before supper,” Ieyasu scolded. “I told you to stop bringing her treats, Masamune.”

“The lass likes them. Besides, it was only a bit of rice and fruit.”

Ieyasu turned to look the chatelaine in the eye. “If you need something to settle your stomach, don’t come running to me. You did it to yourself.” Then, added in a barely audible grumble, “Ginger tea helps.”

“Thank you, Ieyasu.” The girl practically beamed. The two warlords were wholly enchanted. 

Mitsuhide watched this same dance every night. Wherever the chatelaine sat was the center of the table, with warlords jostling to sit near her. Each catered to the girl in their own way, seeking her favor. Well, except for Mitsunari. He read at the table, his nose buried so far in a book that even the prettiest maid could not pull him out of it.

It would be out of character for him to pander to the chatelaine, though it might be the simplest way to interrogate her. Without riling Nobunaga, anyhow. Truthfully, he would have tried but every time Mitsuhide approached her, the girl practically ran to escape him. While he was chasing rumors of her, she must have heard rumors about him. Her door was closed to him, and he saw no way to open it yet.

“Why are you staring at the chatelaine?” Hideyoshi glowered at Mitsuhide from his seat beside Nobunaga.

“It is my job to gather information for our lord. I am surprised you are not watching her more closely yourself.” Mitsuhide arched a fine, silver eyebrow. It had the desired effect.

“I - she’s - don’t change the subject!” 

Hideyoshi was always fun to tease. His straightforward manner and mind made him an easy target. Now he was flustered and unwilling to admit his own obvious interest in the girl in front of his lord. 

Mitsuhide smiled. “I see. So you are keeping her under watch?” 

“To keep her safe!” 

Nobunaga kept his gaze forward, but spoke only loud enough for the two nearest him to hear. “Enough. Sit back and eat, both of you.”

“Yes, my lord,” they agreed almost in unison. Mitsuhide let the moment pass. There would be time to pursue the mystery of this maiden later.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide set up base camp. It was simple enough - the soldiers knew what to do, and he had Kyubei to deal with the details. His scouts were out in the field, checking for signs of a rear attack or pincer tactics. All in all, he was satisfied. Except for one small detail. Something he couldn’t hand off to Kyubei. The little mouse.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, probably praying again. He was annoyed to be stuck with her in what could easily become a fight. She was vulnerable. Naïve and completely defenseless. Her time at Azuchi spent frivolously on lunch, shopping trips, and other girlish pursuits. He could not fathom why Nobunaga wanted her on this trip, lucky or no.

The only silver lining for this fox was that it left him some alone time with her. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Fear made her voice shake. It was endearing.

“I couldn’t say.” Mitsuhide grinned, closing the distance between them.

She took a step back. 

Mitsuhide laughed to cover his realization she was nearly as afraid of him as the coming battle. It stung a little, but was probably no less than he deserved. He fed the fires of the rumors about him, after all. 

“There’s nothing funny about this.” She crossed her arms, temper flashing in her eyes. Her reaction only made him more curious about her. 

He reached out and took her arm, then leaned in close until her face was only a finger’s length from his. “Where are you from, little mouse? Have you never been near a battle before?”

Her anger melted into alarm. She tried to tug her arm loose, but he didn’t let go. “I’m - I’m from a village far from here. Really, really far! It’s peaceful!” Her voice was rising with every word, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. He could see the rapid pulse of her heart in her wrist and neck. Why would this question send her into a panic? 

Mitsuhide patted her head with his free hand, and then released her. “We can discuss this another time. I want to know everything about you - your village.” He turned on his heel and left her. Not because the girl was about to cry. He’d made many women cry. There were just other things, important things, that needed his attention right now. 

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide finished his report to Nobunaga and stood up to leave. As he reached the door, he turned. “My lord, might I make one more suggestion?”

Nobunaga glanced up at Mitsuhide, his expression guarded. “About?”

“Your chatelaine.”

His lord’s expression clouded, eyes narrowing. But he motioned for Mitsuhide to continue.

“I would like to make use of her myself. With some training, she could be an asset to you, and not merely … a lucky charm.” He smiled thinly, allowing a hint of bitter disdain to enter his expression. It wasn't hard to do, given how she'd reacted to the smallest violence. Her tears at even one life lost. 

Nobunaga’s eyes narrowed further. “To what end?” 

“I am uncertain, my lord. Might we allow this path to unfold before guessing where it ends?”

The warlord chuckled, though the wariness did not leave his eyes. “If you wish to teach her, you may do so. See that it does not interfere with your duties.” 

Mitsuhide bowed and left, already planning his next steps. The young chatelaine would need at minimum history, current politics, and some basic skills to survive. Horsemanship and archery - or marksmanship. That would take less time than learning the basics of the bow. Self defense, perhaps? Anything to make her a little less soft. A little less gentle. He could not fathom how she'd lived this long.

He passed Hideyoshi on the stairs. The other lord scowled, immediately suspicious. Mitsuhide barely acknowledged him, pretending to be deep in thought. The ruse was successful. Though Hideyoshi clearly wanted to ask him something, he went by with just a nod. 

Mitsuhide paused as Nobunaga’s right hand entered the tenshu, listening. He knew their lord had not summoned Hideyoshi, so it followed that he had something to report. Or a favor to ask. Yes, that was it. His tread was hesitant, the steps of a man with a request.  

“My lord, I’ve come to ask you about our new chatelaine. She needs something to occupy her - besides following the maids around asking for jobs to do.”

“She will be seen to,” Nobunaga replied dryly. 

Hideyoshi’s voice was uncertain when he replied. “You have given her another task, my lord? I am sure it is an honor for her, but what is it?” 

Mitsuhide could hear Nobunaga’s smile. “Akechi will train her as his assistant. I’ve already given my permission.” 

The response was dead silence. 

“Of course, my lord, but she might be in danger. It is well known that-” 

It was, thought Mitsuhide, the closest he’d ever heard to Hideyoshi disagreeing with their warlord. Hideyoshi’s interest in the chatelaine only made her more of a mystery. One he planned to solve, in time. The girl would yield her secrets. Where she was from, what lord she owed fealty to. Her odd accent, and her strange manners. 

In the room above, Nobunaga spoke again, voice low. “I will not listen to my warlords spread rumors. If you have proof, then bring it to me. If there is nothing else, you may go.”

Hideyoshi spoke again. “But the chatelaine’s safety-”

“There is no place safer for my lucky charm than Azuchi castle. She will be training with Mitsuhide. He has offered to teach her, and I have given him my permission.” Nobunaga’s voice held a note of finality.

“I- I see. Sir. Thank you for seeing to this.” Hideyoshi almost sounded strangled by the words.

Satisfied, Mitshuhide continued on his way, his smile ever wider.

Chapter Text

The chatelaine bent over her texts, lips moving silently as she read the words. Mitsuhide watched, though he pretended to look to his own notes. Her lips were light pink, he thought, like cherry blossoms. Heart shaped, and sweet when she smiled. When she frowned. When she laughed. She brushed her hair back from her cheek, a careless gesture. Simple. Precious.

It made Mitsuhide want to gather her into his lap and run his hands through the soft strands himself. A silly thing to want, he told himself. It would never happen. But it hurt nothing to indulge his imagination sometimes.

She looked up from her text, brows drawn down in thought. She wasn’t seeing him or the room they sat in. She was seeing someplace else, a place the words opened up to her. He loved seeing her expressions of wonder or surprise. It made teaching her entertaining. This face spoke of deep thoughts, internal conflict.

Unable to help himself, Mitsuhide reached over and patted the top of her head. It was the only touch he would allow himself today. Anything else would bring more unwelcome thoughts. But her hair was so soft, and her eyes, when she looked at him, were so bright and full of life.

“Were you in all those battles too?” Her eyes focused on him and he was struck again by her beauty.

With some effort, he looked back down at his papers. “If you don’t know, you should probably keep reading.”

The chatelaine frowned at him. “The clans that rose up against Nobunaga -”

Mitsuhide interrupted her. “You don’t need to tell me about it. Just read.”

“I was until you interrupted me.”

“You were staring off into space.”

Her frown softened. “I was just thinking it must have been hard to live through so many battles, so much death.”

“It could have been much worse. Every action the Oda clans have taken are for the best. If they were not, I -” Mitsuhide stopped. Why was he wasting time, justifying his support for Nobunaga? “War is a constant companion, little mouse. If you are so distressed, perhaps you need a break.”

She stretched her arms high and made a little sigh of satisfaction. “I would love a tea.”

Mitsuhide nodded. “Have one brought to us. After a short break, you can resume your studies.” He watched her without lifting his head as she went about sending for snacks. She was clearly tired. From his reports, after her history lessons and target practice, she was still helping the maids with cleaning, shopping, and other tasks.

It was a lot for a delicate flower to take on. Too much, perhaps. She needed a day of rest. Not tomorrow, as he’d already planned to teach her horse riding, but the next day. That would work for him as well. There were errands to run in town and letters to send. Things he’d been putting off to spend time in her company.

“Are you watching me, Mitsuhide?”

“I am only wondering how you’ve lived this long knowing so little.” He lifted his head to laugh as she scowled. “It’s alright, little mouse. I am only teasing. Why don’t you try to finish that chapter while we wait?”

“I know plenty,” she mumbled, bending back to her reading. That loose bit of hair fell against her cheek again.

Mitsuhide almost reached for it. Almost.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide watched his little mouse eat her peaches and sip at her tea. He wasn’t sure when she’d become his little mouse, but he had claimed her. He wanted - Mitsuhide swallowed a sip of tea, refusing to finish the thought. What he wanted was just to see her smile.

Her happiness was necessary, because she - because she - was easier to work with when she wasn’t moody. That was all, of course. Right now, he wanted to relax, drink his tea, and watch her enjoy everything her dessert. She had earned it with her boldness. 

Though he was beginning to wonder if she was insane. His little mouse was full of surprises. She cowered in battle, screamed from horseback, shied away from shooting, and claimed to be afraid of a fight. But she’d come to town alone, investigated him on her own, and then defended his honor to a group of hotheaded soldiers. Faced them down even when violence was imminent. 

She baffled him. A rare occurrence in a world of few real surprises. The time they’d spent together touched only the barest depths of his little mouse. Mitsuhide felt his need to know more about her like a deep thirst. One he could not quench. No, one he would not quench. The chatelaine was precious, soft hearted, and kind. He could not bear the thought of tarnishing her with his own viper’s reputation. His needs mattered little in the end.

It was hard to resist her though. She sat so close, lips glistening with sweet, sticky juice, eyes aglow with pleasure. Her immersion in the moment was complete. It made him want to lean forward and press his lips to her. To taste the fruit she’d urged on him, knowing it could not compete with the sweetness of her. No fruit could, no matter how fresh or ripe. 

“Keep staring and I’ll think you’re expecting a show …” She arched an eyebrow at him, trying to look severe. It only made her more adorable.

“You’re a sight enough just as you are.” A truth was sometimes best hidden in the open. 

The chatelaine wrinkled her nose, perplexed. She looked at her plate. “There’s still more peaches if you want to join the eating fun.”

“There’s no need for that.” He motioned for her to continue. “I’m having a pleasurable enough time watching you enjoy yourself.”

Her cheeks turned bright pink. For a heartbeat, she met his gaze and he saw in her a flare of desire that matched his own. It surprised him to silence. He might have reached out to her in that moment of shared vulnerability, but his little mouse turned her eyes away, looking down again to hide her blush.

And just like that, the boundaries between them returned. Mitsuhide thought he must have mistaken the emotion in her expression. There was nothing between them but this awkward apprenticeship. And one day soon, not even that.

When she looked up again and caught his sad smile, he thought perhaps she saw through him. But no, he’d masked himself with his teasing too well to be caught. Her lips curved up in a grin as she continued their banter, unaware of his turmoil.

He’d called this desire for her a thirst, but in truth, hunger was more appropo. He felt like a wolf today, not a kitsune. A wolf ready to gobble up this precious little mouse. 

Chapter Text

Kyubei stepped into the garden. His carefully blank expression told Mitsuhide there was something wrong.

“The chatelaine has arrived.” 

Mitsuhide calmly waived Chimaki away and stood. “I wasn’t expecting her. See her to the hall. I will be there in a moment.”

Kyubei gave a short bow and left again, steps silent. 

His little mouse came visiting. But Mitsuhide could only guess what she wanted. He took a moment to fix his hair and straighten his clothes. A moment to gather his thoughts.

She should still be angry with him. By now she knew the truth of his work. Murder. Torture. Spies and lies and deeds done in dark places. The left hand had to be bloodied to keep the right hand clean. Why had she come?

Curiosity held him until he entered the sparse hall. His little one was the only thing to look at in the room, though if Mitsuhide was honest, had it been full of priceless treasures, she still would draw his eye. 

She was searching the hall with her eyes, trying to find something of the man that lived there. It was adorable. He wanted to press a kiss to the back of her neck, just above the line of her kimono. He would trace that edge with tongue and teeth to her delicate ear. Nip the lobe, and then press his mouth to her sweet lips. 

She turned, startled by his sudden appearance. “I- I’m sorry for snooping,” she stammered. “I just thought this room matched you pretty well …” She cast about for something else to say and came up empty. 

Her flustered response gave Mitsuhide time to pull his own wild imagination back from its fantasies. “Is that to say you admit to having an interest in me?” He widened his eyes with mock surprise. “My, and I hadn’t the slightest idea.”

He took a step closer to her and spread his arms. “You are welcome to examine me just as closely as you have my room, if you like. Go on. Look.” His pulse beat a rapid rhythm, and there was no holding back the faint edge of hope that she would reach for him though she should not.

She backed away as expected and shook her head violently. “No thanks! I’m retiring from the snoop business.”

“Disappointing.” He let his arms fall, but moved toward her again. He wanted to be close to her and it served his purpose. She should be afraid or disgusted. Why didn’t she fear him? 

“I didn’t expect you to come visit me,” he added before she could comment on his teasing.

His little mouse did not shrink back this time. She looked up, defiant. “That’s fair. I didn’t expect to visit you either. But I heard some rumors about you. They say you’re working with Kennyo to defeat Nobunaga.”

That rumor. Of course. So she hadn’t come to confront him about his misdeeds. Odd. He shrugged, “That is what they say. So you’ve come to discern the truth?”

Her defiance faded to alarm. He took advantage of the moment. “It’s natural to be afraid that the person watching you works for the enemy. Who knows what harm they could inflict on you?” He waited a beat to gauge her reaction, but her surprise did not fade.

Mitsuhide continued. “But you know, you should never put yourself in a position to ask someone accused of betrayal if they mean to do so.”

Her shock melted into a smug grin. “That’s not why I’m here. I came to tell you that even if everyone else has their doubts, I trust you.”

“What?” He could barely hear the rest of her response over the beating of his own heart. It raced in his chest. She must surely see it at his throat. Somehow, he kept his expression a neutral smile while struggling to control that wild organ. 

“Don’t let all that mean talk get you down,” she finished. 

Though his throat felt tight and hot, he replied with careful banter. “I have a dreadful suspicion you’ve come here to cheer me up.” He swallowed the other words that wanted to spring to his lips. “I missed you.”  “I need you.” “Thank you.” They gathered in his chest, a building pressure.

Thankfully unaware, she only smiled up at him. “That’s right!”

Mitsuhide wanted to gather her to him and let pour his affection for this bizarre, brave, mysterious little mouse. She was so good, so pure. So perfect. He began to laugh. What kitsune fell into such a trap, after all? 

“Why are you laughing? I’m being completely serious.” 

“You were actually worried for my emotional condition in light of this news?” Deflection, misdirection. She must not see any emotion but mirth and ruthlessness, he thought. For her sake, he could not be honest. Not about this. Not about anything.

The corners of her mouth turned down and she looked away. “Yes. I was. Shouldn’t I be? I’ve been the subject of nasty gossip before. It ruins your concentration and makes you angry but you can’t act on it. It sucks!”

This would have been a perfect moment to push her away. To shame her weakness, mock her empathy. But he could not do it. He sighed. “I fear your ability to sympathize with people will put you in danger someday.” Soon, he did not add. “Besides, what if this gossip turns out to be true?” 

Mitsuhide pushed a lock of hair back from her cheek. “Fewer people than you think act with good intentions. You must learn that.” He knelt, his fingers light on her chin to make her look at him. “Little one, please. Listen. More take advantage of the good hearted than you suspect. Playing sympathy for their ill purposes. And they may be closer to you than you think.”

His words were a plea. A plea to stay away from him, to stay safe. but he could see from her expression that they fell on deaf ears. He needed to make her hate him, to fear him. Mitsuhide leaned forward, his cheek brushing the satin softness of her skin. He whispered, “This is my manor. No one will come if they hear screams. Knowing that, what will you do?”

She went still, her breath held. And then in a sudden burst of ferocity, she pushed him back. “What if I did this?” The chatelaine shouted as he fell back. 

A lifetime of hard work and training came in handy, moments like this. Mitsuhide righted himself, and caught her hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” The words came out with menace, a threat. He hated himself for them. 

“Putting the lessons you taught me to use, that’s what!” She tried to pull away, but she couldn’t. “I’m trying to talk to you but you won’t stop taunting me!” 

His little one was in a fury. She struggled against his grip, but he didn’t release her. She needed to hate him, but he couldn’t stand the thought of her being gone. He was afraid if he let her go, she would not come back. It was best for her, but he couldn’t do it. 

“Tell me the truth!” Her anger was giving way to tears of frustration. Mitsuhide could see it in the flush of her cheeks and the damp shine of her eyes.

“I am sorry,” he said at last. “It seems I took my teasing too far.” He let go and she lost her balance. The chatelaine flailed, overcorrecting, falling forward. Toward him. Sense told Mitsuhide to step aside. Let this be another part of her shame. But his body wouldn’t obey. 

He caught her in his arms and held her to his chest. She fit perfectly against him. He could feel the flutter of her pulse in time with his own racing heart. Her breath tickled the skin of his neck. 

“Wha- what are you doing,” she mumbled. 

He pulled her closer. His whole body burned with a need to feel her. She was the spark to his flame. Mitsuhide let his cheek rest against the top of her head. “Do you not cheer someone up when they are sad? Isn’t that why you came to see me?” 

This was not pushing her away, he thought. Quite the opposite. His little mouse relaxed in his arms, laying quietly on his chest as he stroked her back. Her breath puffed lightly against his skin, in little silent huffs of contentment. Mitsuhide was afraid to admit to himself what that might mean. 

Chapter Text

Masamune sat beside Mitsuhide at a small, low table in the One-Eyed Dragon’s estate. Both held tea cups, and the table groaned under the weight of Masamune’s recent kitchen experiments.

“Tell me again why you invited me here,” the silver-haired kitsune asked. 

“No one else would eat these.” Masamune laughed, a mixture of embarrassment and genuine amusement at his guest. “The mix on these dumplings is off - tart, with a bitter aftertaste. And those rice balls … too much salt. I can’t let them go to waste and I won’t make my vassals eat it.”

Mitsuhide’s mouth twitched. “So you thought to feed them to me?”

“You’re always saying you have no taste buds.”

“Yes?”

Masamune shrugged. “Better to share them with someone that won’t hate them?”

“I see.” Mitsuhide picked up another rice ball and popped it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “These are acceptable.”

The One-Eyed Dragon studied the other warlord’s face for some reaction, but Mitsuhide was as unflappable as ever. “Maybe you got a decent one.” He grabbed another of the rice balls and shoved it in his mouth. His face turned red as he chewed quickly, coughing as he swallowed. 

The kitsune’s lips curved up in a wide, serpentine smile. He poured Masamune some more tea. “So, tell me why you really called me over.”

When Masamune could speak again, he answered. “The lass. I heard you took her for a ride.” His expression left no doubt that he meant more than simply a journey on horseback.

“My little mouse needed a reprieve. And I needed to see if she could handle her mount.”

“Your little mouse?” Masamune chuckled. “I knew you’d taken a shine to her.”

Mitsuhide felt a moment of consternation. He hadn’t intended to refer to the chatelaine by her pet name, not in front of the other warlords. Yet it had slipped out, with at least a touch of his affection for her.

“You planning on making her your woman then?”

“I plan no such thing.” Mitsuhide stood. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Sit back down. I’m not prying. I want to know if you have a real interest in her, or if you are just playing.”

“I see no reason to confide this to you.” Mitsuhide knew this was not a good time to be abrupt to one of the few men that trusted him, but he could not discuss his little one, not even with Masamune.

The warlord’s one eye widened. “It’s serious then.” He slapped his leg. “I suppose that means you wouldn’t step back from her, let someone else have a chance with the lass?”

Mitsuhide bit back the short reply that came to his tongue. That Masamune would be a dead man if he touched the girl. It was not in him to make such threats. Better to take action and say nothing, when it came to it. But he knew he would do nothing. 

The chatelaine was not - could not be his. Mitsuhide knew that very soon, his name would be poison to all here.  He looked at the other warlord coldly. “If she has an interest in you, you are welcome to do what you like. I am only her teacher, and as of yesterday, her lessons have ended.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.” Masamune grinned up at him, not at all intimidated. 

“Do so. I’ll see myself out.” 

Mitsuhide could not help but hear the One-Eyed Dragon’s low chuckle as he left. 

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide knew the chatelaine understood what she saw. He knew it from the look of hurt on her face. She'd trusted him until that moment. His foolish mouse. And when he tried to talk to her, she'd run from him. Run straight back to the castle as if devils were chasing her. Of course his little one was anything but cooperative. A victim of her own kind heart and strong passions. Qualities that made her intriguing, but equally difficult. A milder woman would be too afraid to defy him, he thought. But not her. Not after she'd caught him out - plotting with an enemy to the Oda - a circumstance he couldn't simply laugh away. He had need of a better option than imprisonment or death to solve this conundrum. One that insured the girl’s safety and the success of his own plans. He could live with nothing less.  

What he needed was leverage. Some way to buy her silence - but money would not work in her case. Perhaps this was the time to discover her secrets once and for all. Find something by which to hold her and ensure she would say nothing of the meeting she witnessed. 

Mitsuhide found Kyubei on his way back to Azuchi. He gave a hurried order to search the chatelaine’s rooms and then caught up with the girl. Just in time too. She was breathlessly close to confessing all to Hideyoshi.

He pulled her to him and quickly whispered threats in her ear. Implying if she spoke out, he would kill Hideyoshi. A bluff, but one she believed. Mitsuhide could feel her trembling and it tore at his heart. But so much was at stake. Her fear was another price he had to pay for his goals. He wondered if they would ever become too costly, and suspected that he knew the answer even if he would not admit it to himself.

His little mouse looked at him as if he were a poisonous viper, but she played along. She made up a story about her lost shoe and some errand. All complete nonsense, but a good enough lie for the circumstance. Hideyoshi bought it, his whole face betraying worry at her harried state. 

When Hideyoshi took her hands, the chatelaine looked at him with such affection and relief. That expression was a knife in Mitsuhide’s chest. He wished she would look at him that way again. A vain hope, as long as he remained committed to his course of action. The left hand remains in darkness, he thought, and envies those in the light.

“You’re cold,” Hideyoshi told her, pulling her closer to him in a near-embrace. “I’ll tell the maids to rehear the bath. You can stay, and warm up.” 

Mitsuhide could not allow that. His heart refused, and, he told himself, he had to object. This might interfere with his plans to keep his little one silent.

“No. Do not bother. I will see to her.” He pulled the chatelaine behind him, forcing the other warlord to release her hands. 

“Like I trust you after you made her run around all night!” Hideyoshi’s voice was harsh with anger. 

“Nor will I hand her over to you. I made the chatelaine search for me - this is my responsibility.” He let some of his own anger show in his gaze. Normally he tried to avoid unnecessary conflict with the other warlords, but he wanted to punch Hideyoshi. To do violence to him, and assert that he, and only he, could take care of his little one.

Things might have gone that far. Hideyoshi tensed, his hands curling into fists. But then, the chatelaine leaned against Mitsuhide. She wrapped an arm around his waist.

The kitsune hid his shock well. He settled an arm across her shoulders. 

“There, you see?” The triumphant grin on Mitsuhide’s face was only half-farce. He was the lady’s preference. A small victory, hard won. His little mouse was asking for peace, or a truce at least. Now, perhaps, there would be time to put together a third way. An option that guaranteed her silence and preserved her life.

Hideyoshi’s face went stone still. 

“You really musn’t frown like that. I simply wish to see her well.” Mitsuhide pulled courtesy around him like a veil. His features schooled themselves back to politeness. “I have a room at my manor where the chatelaine can rest. As her instructor, it’s most appropriate she stay with me.” The insinuation was clear, of course.

The other warlord was having none of it. He looked like an irate lover, thought Mitsuhide. Or an overly protective brother.

“Don’t appropriate me! What matters is what the chatelaine wants.” Hideyoshi stepped around Mitsuhide to look her in the face. “If you don’t want to go with him, just say so.”

It was the perfect moment for her to betray Mitsuhide. To call his bluff. But he could tell by the way she held his hand, the set of her shoulders, that she did not intend to do that. She looked . . . not relaxed, exactly, but perhaps resigned. Mitsuhide wasn’t sure why his little mouse yielded to him, but he would take advantage of her compliance. He smiled down at her and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

She returned the grin with a brightness so false it stung his eyes. “Yes! I think it would be better to stay with Mitsuhide tonight. I’m sorry for the confusion, Hideyoshi.” Her eyes held to Mitsuhide’s until she said the other warlord’s name. Only then did she look at Hideyoshi.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” The chatelaine’s body pressed warmly to Mitsuhide’s side, as if to prove her point.

Whatever was his little one thinking? Mitsuhide was again intrigued by the odd chatelaine. It only added to the questions he had for her. 

Together, they bid Hideyoshi a good night, and then Mitsuhide led her back to his estate. 

Her smile faded as soon as they left the lamp light. Mitsuhide felt her shoulders tense again. He wondered if this was the taste of regret, this bitterness that washed through him. To have her so close, and to know she was further away than ever.

His little mouse kept glancing at him with her wide eyes, made dark by the pale moonlight. Lost in thought. Neither of them knew what the other was thinking, and both held such hopes for what secrets this night might lay bare. 

Chapter Text

Kyubei held out a strange white case. It had a polished sheen, embedded metal studs, several straps, and it was shaped oddly - unlike anything in the warlord’s possession. “This was the only thing of interest in the chatelaine’s room.”

“What is it?” Mitsuhide looked at the material, curious. “It almost looks like leather? Or treated wood?”

“It is neither.” Kyubei tapped the side. “I do not know what it is.”

Mitsuhide hid his surprise. Kyubei rarely had no information to convey. Not even an educated guess. This investigation would take longer than he had expected. His little mouse must stay occupied until he discovered some leverage to use in their discussion. “Where is she right now?”

“In the bath. One of the maids is keeping an eye on her. I expect she will be awhile.” Kyubei smiled. 

“Then I have time to consider this pouch and its contents.” 

His vassal set the bag down on Mitsuhide’s desk. 

“Is there anything in it that should concern me?” 

Kyubei’s shoulders rose in a slight shrug. “Nothing that appeared to be a weapon. No obvious poisons.” 

Mitsuhide carefully emptied the sack. There was a rectangle of glass or stone, a cloth,  a crinkly package of … more white cloths? An odd looking bit of white rope that ended in metal nubs, and other mysterious items of unknown material and purpose. There was also a strange looking scroll with bright paintings on the front of it. He looked up at his vassal, one eye brow arched.

Kyubei’s lips twitched in an almost smile.

“What are these?” 

“Again, I do not know. The rectangle could be a mirror. It is heavy, and there is a - a seam here.” Kyubei reached for the smartphone and held it up, looking at his reflection in the black glass. 

Mitushide’s brow wrinkled. “Why would she have such a useless mirror? It is dark. Hard to see into.”

Kyubei’s eyes widened. “A dark mirror … Do you think she practices magic?”

“I think not. Although it would explain … things.” Mitsuhide considered how quickly the chatelaine opened the hearts of the Oda warlords. It could be some spell, though he did not put stock in superstitions.

His vassal set the strange mirror down quickly and picked up the packet of tissue. “This is a strange, clear sack for these cloths.” He poked at the sticker sealing the tissues in. The edge peeled up and stuck to his finger. 

Mitsuhide tilted his head, watching as Kyubei shook the package loose. It fell back to the desk, hanging half open now. They both watched it for a moment to see if it did anything else. The tissue pack did nothing. When it was clearly safe, the warlord touched a bit of exposed cloth with a fingertip. 

“It’s very soft. Light. As if paper and cloth together. Perhaps a sewing material?”

“Perhaps.” His vassal shrugged again. “It left residue on my skin. Like honey. Sticky.” He tasted it and shook his head. “Definitely not honey.”

None of these items made any sense to the warlord. He picked up the strange painted scroll and opened it to a random page. The image inside was a mystery, but he recognized the name, written in large red script. “Yukimura Sanada? Hot?” 

Kyubei leaned forward, looking at the two page spread. It showed a man, topless, wearing only hakama. Little flower petals were arranged around that image on the page. After a moment, he nodded. “He must be hot. That is why he is only part dressed.”

The warlord’s expression became more troubled as he read the text below the image. It sounded like an account of a dead man’s life, and gave dates that had not happened yet. “Clearly, my little mouse is more of a mystery than I guessed. My answers will have to come from her.”

“Clearly.” His vassal sounded relieved. “May I be dismissed”

“Yes. Please bring the chatelaine to me when her bath is finished.”

“Of course.” Kyubei left as silently as he had arrived. 

Mitsuhide kept reading, unable to put down the strange scroll. 

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide felt ashamed of himself. The little mouse had bested him at his own game, and worse, seen right through his carefully crafted mask. Despite her flushed cheeks and galloping heartbeat, she’d told him she wanted nothing from him. That she would answer all his questions without any persuasion.

The hollow victory was deflating, but at least he would have the answers he sought. And her cooperation. That was the most important thing. His little mouse would be safe, and Mitsuhide would be able to continue his carefully laid plans without her interference. 

They sat across from each other. Teacups steamed in front of them, lending a sense of comfort to the uncomfortable conversation. The items from her strange bag were laid out across the desk. His little one looked at him intently. “Please understand that everything I’m about to tell you is true.”

And then she launched into the most ridiculous, convoluted fable Mitsuhide ever heard. It was like nothing he’d ever heard. Worm holes in the sky. A world where buildings and lights blotted out the stars. Where metal carts rolled horseless through smoothly paved streets … But she seemed to mean every word. He contemplated the objects between them, wondering where they fit in her narrative.

“You still haven’t explained these -” Mitsuhide gestured to the desk.

The chatelaine yawned. “Oh, I forgot. So that -” she pointed at the strange sack, “is a purse. Women in my time carry their personal things in it.”

“What is it made of?”

“A poly-blend.”

Mitsuhide looked at her blankly.

“Ah, like plastic? You don’t have it yet but -” she struggled for the best way to explain it. “It’s cheaper than wood or leather, and keeps water out. In the future, we use it for a lot of things. Probably too many things. My purse is a blend of plastic fibers and cloth - that’s why it keeps its shape.”

Mitsuhide picked up the bag and squeezed it experimentally. “And it keeps what is in it dry?”

“Yes …”

The warlord set her purse down and picked up the smartphone. “And this dark mirror? What is it for?”

“It’s for -” she paused, chewing at her lip thoughtfully - “for talking to people far away and looking at pictures and playing music. It does a lot, actually.”

Mitsuhide held the plain rectangle to his ear and listened. He shut his eyes, trying to focus but he heard nothing in it. 

“That’s not how it works,” his little mouse giggled. 

He set the thing down, blushing. “Then show me.” 

“Like this.” She squeezed the side of it whispering, “Please be charged. Please be charged. Come on.” 

The mirror lit up with an array of colors and then glowed a steady blue. She slid her fingers across it in patterns, and the colors changed, resolving to a picture of her with two fingers up, the ocean behind her. 

“It is magic,” Mitsuhide whispered. Kyubei had been right to suspect. Here was proof. 

“No,” she laughed again, “It’s a smartphone. All I did was turn it on, but there’s not much battery left.” She handed it to him carefully.

The warlord looked closely at the image. It was a near perfect replica of his little one. “So this was painted on your … smartphone? Who painted you?”

“It isn’t a painting, it’s - let me show you.” She scooted around to his side of the desk and put her cheek against his. “Smile!”

Mitsuhide did not smile. The clicking sound surprised him and he would have dropped the device if the chatelaine had not also held onto it. She touched the front of it a few more times, and then he saw himself. And her. Just as they were a moment ago.

“This is … amazing. You said it talks to people as well? Far away?”

She nodded. “Yes but, well, there’s no one else around with one for me to call. So I can’t show you that. But I can play you some music from my time!”

Mitsuhide gave a nod of assent. He was curious what music would sound like in 500 years’ time, though it would have been more interesting to see how the communication with it worked. He could think of a lot of uses for a magic that was faster than horses or boats. 

His little mouse tapped away at the thing again, and more colors shifted. Then a strange, discordant sound began. The beat was fast, and the singers’ voices were high pitched and cheery, yet he couldn’t pick out the instruments in the melody, or identify many of the words they sang. “What - what is this called?”

“It’s a pop song. Very popular right - well, 500 years from right now.”

Mitsuhide listened to it until the song came to an end. He couldn’t decide how he felt about it. He considered himself well versed in music and poetry, but this was outside his knowledge completely. “How is it played?”

“Ummm, probably a keyboard, a guitar … I’m not very good with music. I just like listening to it.” She slid her fingers along the glass again. “I should probably turn this off. The battery is almost dead.”

“It is broken?”

“No, it just needs to be charged. I can’t really do that though.” She squeezed the sides of the smartphone again, and it went dark.

Mitsuhide picked up the thin rope with metal ends. “Then let’s move on. What is this? Is it some kind of weapon women in your time carry?” He held it up to show how he thought it could be wrapped around a throat and felt very clever about figuring it out. At least, he felt clever until his little mouse laughed again.

“No, oh - most women - we don’t carry weapons. That’s my - my charger cable.” She got the words out between giggles. 

“For the, ah, the smartphone?” 

She took the rope from him and showed him how one end fit into it. “The other plugs in, but there aren’t plugs I can use here.” She shrugged and set it down. She picked up the other small case from the purse, one that looked like leather but wasn’t. “And before you ask, this is my wallet. These are bank cards - they have money, in the future. Or they would if I had a good job. And this is my ID.” She held up a shiny rectangle with writing on it, and her image painted to one side. Another excellent likeness.

“Not a painting either. A photograph.” Mitsuhide took it from her, still in wonder over how the images were made. 

“Yes, exactly.” She beamed. 

It was awkward to be the student, Mitushide reflected. Yet he was getting the answers he asked for, even if they were so far beyond his expectations as to be fantasy.

“And this - this is my makeup kit.” She popped open a slim container. In it were a variety of powders in several colors. 

This was something Mitsuhide recognized, though the case was odd. “Ah, for a stage performer or an entertainer.” His eyebrows went up, considering his little mouse working as such.

She must have seen his thoughts on his face because she flushed pink to the tips of her ears. “No, no, no. Most girls in my time wear make up. Not like that - not like … anyway -” she set the case down and reached for the painted scroll. 

“Ah, now this object. This gave me many questions. Some of which you answered in your story. But why are all these men … hot? Is it summer painting - ah, photographs?” 

If she was pink before now she went crimson. “Y-yes! Summer! Hot summer!” She rolled the scroll up and shoved it into her purse. “There are lots of umm, scrolls like this. We call them magazines. They have pictures and stories. This one … it’s a tourist guide. About the warlords from this era.”

“And I am in it.” 

“Mhmmm.” His little mouse looked like she would rather talk about anything else. Curious. 

“And it is about me, in the summer?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. Something was not adding up in her explanation. “The … guide … didn’t mention summer. It did mention my ‘silver white hair and golden eyes’. And the term heartbreaker?” 

“D-did it?”

“Yes. Along with the physical attributes of the other Oda warlords.”

She was still sitting on his side of the desk, and now she inched away from him with every word.

Mitushide gently took the purse from her and opened up the magazine. The first page was about his lord. He held it up and read the first line. “Nobunaga is a hottie? Do explain, little mouse.”

She actually squeaked. “It - it means attractive. Good looking.” The chatelaine wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s about all - all the most attractive … historical …”

Mitsuhide leaned forward and tipped her chin up with a finger. “And I am one of them?”

“Yes?”

“You consider me a … hottie?”

His little mouse scurried over to the other side of the desk, not afraid but - embarrassed? Yes, that was definitely it. 

She stared down at the other items still on the desk. “You shouldn’t ask a girl things like that. Now … what else are you curious about?”

Many things, the kitsune thought, but he kept them to himself for now.

Chapter Text

The tenshu was cold that morning. Dawn’s warm light was still too faint to burn the mist off the castle town below. Up here, Mitsuhide could almost see his breath. 

Nobunaga stood, looking to the east, his eyes aglow with the growing fire of the rising sun. “You came to ask me for another boon.”

“I have.” Mitsuhide did not mince words. “I need the chatelaine assigned to me.”

“You need her?” His lord did not turn to look at him as he asked, “Why?”

This was a question the warlord expected. He thought up several answers the night prior. Sitting in his study with his little mouse nestled in his lap. Could he tell Nobunaga he had to see her sweet smile each day? Or hear her voice? Or that his fingers itched to touch her hair, the soft skin of her cheek? None of those things would sway his lord. 

“I do. She is an excellent assistant. I have made plans concerning her.”

“Hideyoshi came to me last night. He asked me to yield the chatelaine to him, and place her under his protection. He seemed … concerned.” There was a slight edge of amusement in Nobunaga’s tone. “I told him I would think on it.”

Mitsuhide swallowed his bile and smiled, lips razor thin. “Hideyoshi has maids and cooks and vassals to care for the simple things he would ask of our chatelaine. I make use of her unique skills. Surely I do not need to plead my case?”

“No.”

The kitsune waited. He could not reveal how important it was to him to keep his little one near. 

Nobunaga finally turned. He wore a wide grin. “It seems my good luck charm has made servants of my warlords. You battle for her attention as boys do. I am surprised Masamune has not chased after her to tug her braid.”

Mitsuhide held his silence. He sensed if he lied here, now, Nobunaga would see through it.

“I did not expect you to be caught in her spell.” He studied Mitsuhide with eyes like a hunting hawk. “You may have the use of her as your assistant. For now. But remember, Akechi. She is mine.”

“I will not forget.” The words nearly caught in his throat, an admission to his lord that pricked his heart. Mitsuhide bowed. 

When he returned to his estate, the chatelaine was awake and chatting with the maids. Smart to make friends out of the servants, he thought. He came up behind her as quietly as he could. When he was close enough to touch her, he leaned forward and put his lips beside her ear. “We will be joined at the hip, little mouse.”

She shrieked, lurching forward so that he had to catch her arm to keep the chatelaine on her feet.

The maids nearby laughed, One girl shook her head. “You will give our princess a fright, Lord Akechi.”

“I am sure she will survive it.” He did not need to add that it was time for them to go. 

The maids withdrew, waving goodbye to the chatelaine.

“Why do you always sneak up on me like that?” Her wide eyes were warm, and the hint of a smile hovered in her cheeks. 

“Because I enjoy your reactions. Why else?”

“I wonder.” She pouted, crossing her arms. “And what do you mean, joined at the hip?”

Mitsuhide could not restrain his smile. “You will be my assistant until further notice. Nobunaga has decided your talents are better used here than cleaning floors and sewing.”

“But I like making things.” She glared at him, her hot temper flashing.

He put his hands on her arms, stroking them lightly. “I did not say you could not. I am sure there will be time, when you and I are done with the day’s work.” 

She uncrossed them to push his touch away. “I guess I don’t have much choice.”

“No, I’m afraid not.” He narrowed his gaze and lowered his voice. “I will be by your side constantly. There will be no chance confessions from you.”

His little mouse huffed. “I said I would keep your secrets, Mitsuhide.”

“And I will keep yours. But it’s easier done when temptation is far away.”

“One kind of temptation, anyway,” she murmured.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The chatelaine blushed and looked down. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything at all.”

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide looked up from the last of the day’s reports. More would be coming in the next few hours, but for this brief moment he was done. He felt relaxed and in an uncharacteristically good mood. His little mouse was leaned against the wall, her head tilted forward to rest on her chest. Her eyes were shut tight, lips curled in a slight smile. 

She must have fallen asleep while working on the estate affairs he gave her to manage. There were few tasks more boring than reviewing stock lists and provision counts.

He stood and walked quietly to her. Her eyelids twitched at his approach, barely noticeable, but Mitsuhide saw it. Was she pretending? He knelt and reached out to touch her hair. He imagined her eyes would snap open and she would make some angry comment about keeping his hands to himself. 

His fingertips caught the soft strands that fell from the coil of her bun. He twined the pieces around his finger, watching as it uncoiled slowly to lay against his palm. No reaction from his little one. 

Kyubei slid the screen open and knelt at the door.  “Sir?”

She didn’t move at the sound. 

Mitsuhide glanced over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Masamune has sent a message requesting -”

“Leave it on my desk. I’ll see to it later.” He watched her face for any tell tale sign of awareness. If she heard the exchange, she gave no sign. Could she be so tired that she actually fell asleep in this position? Or was she that dedicated to faking it?

Kyubei watched his lord from the corner of his eye as he set the message on the desk and then left. At the door he stopped again. “Should I call someone to take the chatelaine to her room?” 

“No. I’ll take care of it.”

“But -”

His vassal meant well. Kyubei was loyal, almost to a fault, but this wasn’t something Mitsuhide wanted to discuss. “Go.” That was the only word he needed to say. Kyubei’s face betrayed nothing of how he felt about being dismissed. He bowed and left.

“Alone again, little mouse. You should wake up before something happens.” Mitsuhide leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her skin was so soft, and her hair smelled like flowers. Fresh cut and still full of life. He could taste the slightest hint of sweat, a bit of salt in the sweetness of her. Perfect. “You should tell me to stop.”

His little mouse stirred, turning her head to the side. 

Though he meant to pull away, he found himself pressing light kisses along her cheek, down her jawbone, to her neck. She gasped, a sound so light in was more of a breath against his ear. It sent a shiver through him like cold water - no, more pleasant. Like a warm summer current or … Mitsuhide realized he had nothing like this in his life. Nothing before her. 

He knew he should stop. She was vulnerable awake. Asleep, it was a battle without real contest. He meant to rock back on his heels, but she reached for him before he could. Her slim arm draped across his shoulder, pulling him down to her. 

Mitsuhide could have resisted, but that delicate limb may as well have been an iron chain. He let her tug him down beside her and held still as she rolled against him. His little mouse pressed herself tightly against him. Her head settled in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him gently. 

It was torture to lay still. His chest felt tight and hot. Why was his heart racing so? His face flushed? He was no delicate maiden, to be moved by displays of affection or physical acts of love. It was the surprise of her, he decided. The way his little mouse fit beside him. Her trusting nature and naivete, a mirror to his suspicion and jaded heart. It left him flustered. 

The chatelaine would not be pleased if she woke in his arms though. No matter how it happened. She would be angry with him. And he knew he would be angry with himself. He gathered her against his chest and sat up slowly. Then with caution, he stood, careful not to jostle her. 

“You are lucky, little mouse. I can think of few men that would not take advantage of you now, when you are like this.” He whispered to her, a lesson that she did not hear. He moved her to the futon in the corner. It took all his will to pry her arm from his shoulder and move her head from his chest. To lay her down and settle a blanket across her. 

Little chatelaine, trying so hard to be good that she’d worn herself out. 

He left the room so he would not have to look at her any more tonight. But no matter how far he went, he couldn’t forget how she felt in his arms. 

Chapter Text

Hideyoshi’s eyes burned into Mitsuhide’s back as he guided his little mouse away from the meeting with Nobunaga. The warlord’s disapproval was a physical pressure in the hall, and though Mitsuhide hid it well, he did not breathe easily until they were out of his sight. War council had not gone in his favor. Not that Mitsuhide expected it to. Hideyoshi did not have the information Nobunaga did, and did not need to. But in his ignorance, he was angry.

“I should go back-” The chatelain began to speak, but Mitsuhide shushed her.

“No, let him stew. There is nothing you could say that would comfort him anyway. He is determined to see that I mean you ill.”

His little mouse looked up at him with a raised brow. “You don’t make it easy to believe otherwise. About your loyalty to Nobunaga, or your … pretend interest in me.”

He chuckled. “It’s a good thing you won’t have to worry about it. After all, you are returning home when the - the worm hole opens. Let me worry about Hideyoshi.”

“I’d still like to talk to him.” She gave Mitsuhide a narrow-eyed glance. “I wouldn’t say anything I’m not supposed to.”

The kitsune grinned slyly. “And I believe you. I do. But you’ll be too busy to concern yourself with comforting our poor Hideyoshi.”

“Busy packing?”

His smile turned wicked. “The servants will pack our clothes. I have something even more important for us to do.”

Mitsuhide led his little mouse to an unfamiliar room in his estate. The floor here was polished to a soft shine, and the only furniture were two stools shoved along the far wall. There was some colorful cloth folded atop one of them. 

“What is this?” The chatelaine paused in the open door.

“Our preparation.” He released her and walked across the room to lift the stool. He lifted the cloth and shook it out, showing it to his little mouse. The bright colors of the embroidery and dye were nothing like the usual kimono people wore in Azuchi. It was too flamboyant, which was, of course, the point.

“This is for our trip?” His little mouse guessed at his purpose.

Mitsuhide nodded. “It is. I’d like you to try it on.” He handed it to her. 

“I bet you would.”

He laughed and turned to face the wall. “Your insinuation stings. Now, put it on. I won’t look until you tell me I can.”

“If you do, I swear I’ll try to blind you for it.” 

Mitsuhide shrugged. “It might be worth it, but no - I promised you. Besides, I need to see what it looks like on you. Hard to do if you’ve blinded me.” He could hear the rustle of cloth behind him. Knowing she was undressing was more … exciting … than it should have been. He’d seen many women dressed and not. His little mouse probably looked just like any other girl. But it was still hard not to try for a peek, despite his promise.

“So, what’s with these flashy outfits? I thought we were infiltrating Chugoku lands like spies. Not drawing every eye in the region.” 

“We attract attention in order to hide ourselves. People will look at us and see only a pair of traveling performers.” It was one of his favorite guises. One that allowed him to indulge in one of life’s few joys. He loved song and dance, the feel of creating stories with his voice and body. He would never admit as much to anyone, not even to his little mouse. But he was genuinely looking forward to this ruse.

“That’s a pretty impressive analysis. I’m always surprised at how easy it is for you to get into people’s heads.”

He felt an absurd burst of pride at her offhand comment. “Why thank you. I don’t mind a compliment once in awhile. Especially from my future wife.”

His little mouse huffed. “I only said I was considering it! And that betrothal nonsense - that was - was just for Nobunaga and Hideyoshi’s sakes.”

“Ah, my heart.” He chuckled. It was easy to hide behind laughter. “Can I see you now?”

“Yes - I, I got it on.”

Mitsuhide turned and smiled. The fit was good. It would need to be taken in a little at the shoulders, and the lower hem but still. “Very nice.”

“So, I’ll head back to my room and-”

“Not so fast. Did I mention you’ll be masquerading as a dancer?”

She frowned up at him. “Alright. If that’s what you need me to do.”

“Do you know how to dance?”

The chatelaine nodded. “Of course I do!” Then she proceeded to wiggle her hips in an unseemly way, her arms waving around beside her. It was adorable, and absolutely not going to work for their disguise. 

“Ah, little one, that - that isn’t what I meant. Is that a dance from your time?”

She froze mid-motion and blushed crimson. “Yes … “

Mitsuhide leaned close, making sure to catch her gaze. “You look delicious when you move like that. But I can’t have anyone else seeing it.” He stroked a finger along her jawline. “Instead, I will teach you some traditional dances. Just basic movements - so that you can be more convincing in your role.”

She inhaled sharply at his touch, but didn’t pull away. “O-okay. I didn’t know you could dance.”

“Mhmm.” He resisted the urge to kiss her before he straightened. This was going to be a fun lesson.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide listened to the whispers of the bamboo forest. He found it soothing. The music of wind and branch was so different from the hum of Azuchi. There were no human voices to interrupt his thoughts. No politics here, or plots. Only the endless sea of green, and the long shadows cast by the setting sun. 

His little mouse did not look to be enjoying the ride as much as he. She kept turning her head at each clack and clatter. Her shoulders were tense too. Perhaps she feared bandits, he thought. Or something worse? His lips curled into a small, wicked smile. 

“We’ll camp here,” he called to her when they reached a small clearing. The bamboo grew far enough apart to place their bedrolls, and to dig a small fire pit for cooking. But the leaves covered the red and gold of the sunset with their greenery, sliding slowly to black as the light left. 

“Can’t we keep going? I thought we would be out of the forest before dark.” She hunched her shoulders and squinted at the dim-lit path ahead. “It’s probably not much further, right?”

Mitsuhide kept a straight face. “Perhaps, but I do not want to risk the horses. They could trip on a dark path, and we would be delayed.” 

She sighed and nodded. “I didn’t think about that.” Then she dismounted stiffly. The chatelaine was unused to long rides, or riding in general. Though she didn’t complain, her discomfort showed in every stilted movement as she unbuckled her pack and began to unload the horse.

“I can do that,” Mitsuhide told her after a moment of watching this awkward dance. “You go stretch, try to get comfortable.”

His little one gave a grateful smile. “If you insist.” She stepped away from her horse and stretched her arms over her head. “I feel like my spine is half fire. If fire was steel. Bending it hurts.”

“Riding all day is hard at first,” he agreed as he removed the packs and saddles, and began to rub down the mounts. “You do get used to it eventually.”

“You must do this a lot.” She sounded a little jealous. “How long does it take to - to not feel like you were beaten with hammers at the end of the day?”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “I don’t remember when I stopped being bothered.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. “Maybe you can tell me the exact moment riding becomes comfortable?”

She frowned at him. 

After the gear was unpacked and the horses cared for and fed, Mitsuhide dug a small fire pit and got out their rations. Onigiri tightly wrapped in a bamboo sheath. The rice was flecked with black sesame and filled with pickled plum. He handed her the travel food, knowing she would eat it even if she wished for something sweet. 

“Thanks,” she said, resting back on the bedroll Mitsuhide laid out for her. “These aren’t bad. Did Masamune make them?”

“Yes.” He did not tell her Masamune tried to send them off with all sorts of experimental recipes for traveling. He’d turned them all down, opting for something quick and easy to eat, simple to pack. Besides, more elaborate food might break their cover if they were searched. 

“His food is always so good,” she sighed. Her eyes were focused up, on the little glimpses of starry night sky. 

Mitsuhide felt a stab of jealousy. He did his best to ignore it. His little mouse could taste things, so of course she preferred Masamune’s cooking. It meant nothing. 

A loud crack interrupted the quiet. It sounded close. The chatelaine squeaked and reached for her pack, where she kept a small knife. 

“Frightened?” It was normal to hear snapping branches at night, as animals prowled the forest. Sometimes it was just a stalk too old to stand against the wind. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t a human sound and so he was not worried.

His little mouse shook her head, chin jutting out defiantly. “No. But it could be a monkey or - or a bandit.”

He laughed softly, which did nothing to calm her down. “What if I told you I was sure it is neither of those things?”

“Why should I believe you?” Her temper was still hot.

“Mmm, because I have traveled this forest several times. And I can tell you for certain that no bandit would prowl here at night. Even the monkeys are wise enough to stay away.” An idea took form right then, a little piece of fun.

The red in her cheeks drained away as he spoke, leaving her pale. “W-what do you mean?”

Mitsuhide gave his crescent moon grin, all wickedness and sharp edges. “Because, little one, this place is haunted.”

“Heh, y-yeah. Now you’re trying to scare me on purpose! Stop teasing.”

“Oh? Then I won’t tell you why travelers avoid this place.” He finished his meal and stood.

The chatelaine watched him, her whole body tense despite her defiant attitude. “Where are you going?”

“I will check around the camp, and the path ahead. I want to keep you safe, even if you don’t believe there is danger.” He stepped silently outside the small circle of firelight. She watched him go without saying anything else. But she did pull the knife from her pack, setting it, still sheathed, beside her.

Her determination to be brave was adorable, but it made him want to tease her more. As he walked the perimeter of their tiny camp, he picked up bits of dead, dry bamboo stalks. He put a few holes in them, and with a bit of thread, hung them high in the branches. They began to catch the breeze almost immediately, adding a soft, low warble to the rustling leaves.

Then he went a bit further afield to a nearby pond - it was easy to find by the night sounds of the forest toads. He scooped up a large male and laughed softly as it wriggled in his hand. “Don’t worry. I am not going to eat you, gama. We are going to help each other tonight. I just need you to sing.” 

The toad let out a long, rasping cry in response. Perfect. He loosed it a few feet from the chatelaine’s bedroll, where she sat staring at the fire, oblivious to his presence. 

When he came back to camp, announcing his arrival with a purposefully loud step, she stood to greet him. “Oh! You- you were gone awhile. Everything ok?”

“I found nothing … unexpected.” He looked at her solemnly. “But I think we should both stay here, near the fire, until dawn.”

“You - you’re just taunting me. Is there anything out there or not?”

Mitsuhide sat down on his bedroll and stretched out his legs. From the darkness on her side of the camp, came a harsh croaking. It was loud and held for several heartbeats. 

“Ah! What is that?” She spun to stare at the bamboo thicket.

“I was going to tell you but … you said to stop.” Mitsuhide shrugged. “Do you want to know or not?”

“I - yes. Please tell me.”

He regarded her with narrowed eyes. He could tell her heartbeat was fast, her eyes were wide. She pulled her mat closer to the fire pit. 

“You must promise not to interrupt.”

His little mouse nodded.

“Good. Then I will tell you why wise travelers avoid this forest, especially at night. It was before I was born, when my parents were young. There was a Chugoku princess known through the nearby provinces for her extraordinary beauty and her cunning. Her father refused to marry her off to the many suitors that came to their castle, because he cherished her. His youngest child and only daughter. And he relied on her wise advice.”

The chatelaine opened her mouth to ask a question, but caught herself. He could tell she was trying very hard to abide by his request. She was so cute, holding her curiosity in, that he almost gave her a chance to speak.

“Eventually, of course, a young warrior came to court her. He was very handsome, and wealthy. The princess was quite taken with him, as were most of the women in the castle. From the princess’ maid, to her elder mother.”

“This sounds like a fairy tale,” his little mouse said.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow in disapproval.   

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

“I will pretend you said nothing. As to the truth of this story, you may ask some of the older servants at the castle - they will tell you the truth of it. Some still live that knew the princess, her maid, and the young warrior.”

The chatelaine’s eyes grew wider, and as if planned, a gust of wind made the improvised bamboo pipes give a fluting wail. 

“Now, as I said. All the women in the castle were taken with the young warrior, but none so much as the princess and her maid.” Mitsuhide looked out into the dark forest and gave a heavy sigh. 

“The maid was as ugly as the princess was beautiful. A girl disfigured by a terrible burn. Her face was twisted into a grimace that marked her out from even the plain women of Chugoku. The princess was the only one to look past her scarring and see the intelligent, kind woman behind it. The two were inseparable, until that charming warrior came.” 

His little mouse nodded, her hand still covering her mouth as if she was afraid she would speak again. 

“Though no one knew it then, it was the maid that gave the wise advice everyone sought from the princess. She spent her time reading and watching, listening to people. She knew the town’s most closely held secrets. The princess relied on her knowledge and her spying. And so, when the maid fell in love with the warrior, she begged the princess to let her try and win his affection. She thought she was owed at least the chance to find love. The princess only laughed.”

Mitsuhide did his best to imitate a woman’s voice. “No one would love a girl as ugly as you. Now get to your room and stop asking me for the impossible! I will marry that warrior, and you will always be just an ugly, unwanted maid.” 

His little mouse looked appropriately horrified by that cruelty.

“The maid told her, ‘If you don’t at least let me try to win his heart, I will tell everyone the true source of your wisdom. They will know you are nothing but an empty-headed doll. Pretty but stupid.’ Enraged, the princess beat her, and drove the maid from the castle.”

“And she came to this forest to live?” The chatelaine asked, unable to help herself.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “If only she had. No. After the maid left, the princess began to worry that the maid would tell everyone the truth. She devised a plan to stop her. The princess called the warrior to her room and began to weep. She claimed that the maid threatened to curse her. She said the burned girl was a witch, and that she was afraid for her life. The warrior was uncertain, but he wanted to win the heart of the beautiful princess. After drying her tears, he agreed to find the maid and take her to the forest, where he would slay her and bury her bones far from the castle. Then the princess could be safe. And in return, she would marry him.”

The forest toad rasped another desperate cry. His little mouse jumped at the sound, her head whipping around to look back at the bamboo grove. “C-can I come sit with you? While you finish the story?”

Mitsuhide nodded. He made a space for her beside him where she sat, her leg brushing against his.

“Now, the maid was no fool. She feared the princess would lie about her, but she could not believe the warrior would harm her. Especially when he came to her hovel and asked if she would walk with him, and talk. He seemed so sincere. She wanted to believe he came because he worried for her. The maid told him that it was her wisdom on the princess’ lips that made the beautiful girl famous.” 

He slipped an arm around his little mouse, and remarkably, she only settled against him without a single word of protest.

“The warrior believed her. After all, witches have great wisdom. Knowing this did not change his plan. He brought the maid here, to this forest. The whole way, he listened to her talk about her life. Her dreams. She opened up her heart to him, believing he cared. It was only when the warrior told her to kneel before him that the maid realized what he intended to do. She begged for her life. She promised him anything he wanted, if only he would let her live. The maid told him that she loved him. Her words fell on deaf ears. The warrior saw only the princess’ beauty and wanted nothing to do with the wise but ugly maid.”

“Men are so stupid,” the chatelaine murmured.

“Sometimes,” Mitsuhide agreed, thinking of how he had been so easily ensnared by a pretty girl. “Stupid or not, the warrior cut off her head. Then he carried her body away from the well traveled path, and buried her in an unmarked grave. The princess waited for him, but when she felt it was taking too long, she slipped away from the castle and walked the forest path, looking for her love.”

“Oh no.” His little mouse breathed the words into his chest, her eyes half-closed.

The warlord smiled down at her. “You are right to worry. The princess met her warrior on his way back from burying the poor maid. He swept her into his arms, smearing her with blood and grave dirt. He told her it was done, and she was so excited that he had done her bidding, that she kissed him. And then the warrior laid her on the forest floor and made love to her.”

Mitsuhide shifted, definitely not thinking about taking his little one here, in this clearing. Not thinking about that at all. 

“The maid’s spirit could not rest, not with such a violent death at the hands of the man she loved. And not after witnessing this final betrayal. She appeared before them, holding her head in her hands. She threw it at the princess, gnashing her teeth and wailing. The princess caught it, and died right there from fright. The warrior should have died then too, but the maid could not kill him. She still loved him. Instead, she cursed the warrior to a life of loneliness.”

“That is … so sad,” the chatelaine murmured. Her eyes were closed now, almost asleep.

“It is. The warrior returned to the castle, and found that all had turned against him. They say he died some years later, a lonely and bitter man whose heart was stone. The princess’ body was retrieved from the forest, but the servants that brought it back swore they heard weeping and gnashing teeth. And after that, many beautiful maidens disappeared in this place. The men that travel these roads say they hear the maid, still crying. Her teeth clacking together.”

Another gust of wind rattled the branches and sent low tones skirling into the night air. 

His little mouse shivered. “N-none of that is true. It’s just a - a story.” Her sleepy voice sent a happy chill through Mitsuhide. He imagined she would sound like that early in the morning, waking before dawn to make love and then fall asleep again.

“Ah, it was told to me as a true story. But I have never feared these woods. Even if they are haunted by a maid that curses men to loneliness. I am already cursed.” 

“Mmm, yeah,” the chatelaine agreed, “but I’m not. Can I … sleep next to you?” Her eyes opened a fraction.

“Of course. I would not want to lose you to a vengeful spirit.” Or anything else. He laid her down on his mat, and watched as she drifted off to sleep. Such folktales had their uses, he thought. Like frightening silly, sweet girls.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide waited until his little mouse was fast asleep. He was smugly satisfied at how easily she fell asleep beside him despite her fear. It made him feel absurdly protective. As if somehow his presence truly kept bad things at bay. He ignored the irony of that thought. He wanted to enjoy this while he could. Only her imminent return to her own time gave him leave to play these games. 

Ah, and these games were not done tonight. Mitsuhide dowsed one hand in water, letting the night air chill his damp skin. When he judged it sufficient, he reached under the blanket, carefully lifting the hem of her clothes. Then in a sudden flurry of movement, he grabbed her leg and pulled. 

Mitsuhide let go just in time for his little one to scream. She pulled her legs up tight against her chest. 

“Did you feel that?” He asked her, as if he too, were just woken by something.

“Sh-she grabbed me! I felt her cold hand!” The chatelaine’s voice was thick with terror. 

Mitsuhide almost felt bad for frightening her. Almost. He stroked her shoulder gently. “I think she meant to grab both your legs … and caught one of mine instead.” 

“H-holy cats! Why did we pick this place to camp? M-mitsuhide! You knew! You knew sh-she would try to kill me.” Her fear was shifting to anger. 

Her cheeks were flush with anger, her eyes wide with fear, her fists clenched. She was a terrified mouse, turning now to fury. Beautiful. 

“We should have just kept riding!”

The horses shuffled on their leads, curious about the upset in camp but unafraid. The chatelaine did not know the difference between a nervous horse and one unhappy to be woken for no reason. 

“See? Even our mounts are scared.” Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes.

The forest branches clacked like chomping teeth, and the wind whistled through the bamboo pipes hung in nearby trees. 

Mitsuhide gathered his little one into his arms. She clung to him, wiping her face against his shoulder. He had not thought she would be this afraid and he felt a twinge of guilt. Part of him wanted to confess it was all just a joke. A silly game to bring her to his side. But it worked too well and he didn’t want to spoil it with unnecessary honesty.

“I won’t let the maid take you, little mouse. Stop shivering.” He stroked her hair.

His reward was her little fist striking his chest. “W-we should have kept riding. You … you did this on purpose.”

So close, he thought, but not quite there. It was surprising how well her intuition did, lacking in cunning and deception as she was. 

He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “Trust me.”

She relaxed against him, surrendering this round. “I do. But I still think you knew …” She trailed off. 

Mitsuhide wondered what she was thinking. It was hard to tell when he couldn’t see her face. Hopefully she was too tired from the full day of riding to stay up. He needed her to fall asleep if he was going to hang a haori in the trees to frighten her again. Although … he rested his chin on the top of her head. 

There wasn’t much point to carrying the joke further. She was frightened into his arms already. 

“Are you smiling? I can feel you smiling,” she mumbled.

“I’m smiling.”

~

Sunlight creeping through the leaves woke Mitsuhide first. He was surprised to find he’d fallen asleep sitting. His little mouse still sat curled in his lap. He could feel the slow, steady beat of her heart through his skin. She was warm and soft and perfect. It almost hurt to lay her down.

Mitsuhide set about taking down the camp. Packing their meager supplies up, heating some water for morning tea. Some hoshikage because he knew how much she liked sweet things. He checked the horses and fed them some grain. 

The chatelaine woke just as he was pouring hot water into thick, clay mugs for a morning tea. She got up slowly and stretched. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“What is that?” 

“Ah, kind of like a cart? Without the horse attached.” 

He nodded. “I wouldn’t want to be run over by a cart.” 

She took her mug and blew at the steam. She took a tentative sip, her lips twisting at the bitterness. 

Mitsuhide didn’t mind the taste. It reminded him of days spent hungry, and the iron and salt smell of blood. That was life. 

His little mouse nibbled at her persimmon, taking sips between bites. 

“I wish you’d stop staring at me.”

“There is nothing more beautiful to see this morning.” 

“I’m not - beautiful.” She set her mug down and tried to adjust her clothing. It was rumpled from sleep, and her hair curled up at the edges, tugged loose from her bun. “I wish you’d stop with the teasing until I’m awake enough to deal with it.”

He shrugged slightly. “As you like.” Mitsuhide finished his breakfast and finished packing. Only the birds spoke, and the humming insects. It was a companionable silence. 

As they mounted up again to continue their ride, she finally asked. “Was that story last night true? About the maid?”

Mitsuhide gave her his secretive smile. “Who can say?”

As they rode out onto the path, he saw her turn her head. Toward one of his bamboo flutes, still hanging in the tree. The light breeze made a haunting melody, barely audible over the clop of hooves and the creek of the saddles. 

“Mhmm. Who can say,” she repeated thoughtfully.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide stopped early to make camp in an open field. Tomorrow they would reach the Chugoku border, and he wanted one more night with his little mouse before duty and distraction returned. He watched the way she slowed her mount and took in the flowers and sunshine.

“Shouldn’t we continue? We have some time before sunset.” The chatelaine pushed a stray piece of hair from her forehead. 

“We could. But I think we need one last rehearsal before I try to convince anyone you’re a dancer.” 

She huffed. “I remember the moves you taught me. You said I had the pattern down.”

Mitsuhide dismounted and held out a hand to help his little one off her horse. She took it without hesitation, letting him hold her with the other arm as he set her on the ground. He took advantage of the moment to pull her back against his chest. 

“Wha!”

“You must do more than go through the motions to dance. You must feel them.” Mitsuhide’s lips brushed the edge of her ear. Then he let her go. 

Beside them, the horses looked with an amused eye, their ears cocked back to listen. 

The chatelaine turned to glare at him. “You could have just said I needed more practice.”

“I did say that. And you questioned me. You can’t be angry when I answer your questions.”

She clearly wanted to say more on the subject, but turned to caring for her mount instead. Neither of them said much as they removed the riding gear and unpacked what they needed for camp. 

When they were done, Mitsuhide beckoned her to a flatter part of the ground. “Show me your very best Heron Maiden. You remember how it goes?” He’d taught her the rudiments for the most popular dances, but neither he nor Kyubei were certain what the troupe would select. Hopefully between the practice and her pretty face, she would pass as a performer.

His little mouse dug a pair of fans from her bag and bent her knees to start. 

“Raise your arms.”

She shot him an annoyed look, but her elbows came up.

“And pick your chest up, heart out.” Mitsuhide showed her what he meant, his supple spine straightening, shoulders going back. It felt good and he almost took the next step in the dance, but stopped himself. 

“I’m doing the best I can! My chest doesn’t go up!”

Mitsuhide laughed softly and walked around behind her. He settled his hands on her shoulders, tugging them gently into position. Then set his hand on her chest, just under the swell of her breasts. 

“H-hey, that’s not - you don’t need to -” She flapped the fans in the air as if to fly away from him. But her chest rose, just as it should.

“There, little mouse. Just like that. Now step forward, a little step and -” He held onto her a moment longer, enjoying the feeling of dancing with someone. Sharing the movement and space.

As soon as he let go though, she lost the posture, drawing in on herself nervously. Mitsuhide opened his mouth to correct her again but she interrupted. “I know, I know. Chest up. Knees bent. Small steps.” She recited his instructions back to him in an annoyed tone, but her expression gave her away. Tension. Nerves.

Mitsuhide sighed. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your teacher and I asked you to?”

The chatelaine’s eyelids closed slowly, her brow wrinkled with suspicion. Sweat beaded on her forehead in the hot, still air of the afternoon.

“Now we will start again. Don’t think about all the things I told you to do, or not do. Just listen, and move.” Mitsuhide began to sing the story of the heron maiden, as he remembered it. 

At first his little one stood frozen to the spot. Her natural suspicion of him coupled with a general confusion of what he expected her to do. But he kept on, his voice low and soft in the still afternoon. And she began to dance. 

It wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But she stopped being afraid of a wrong step and began to feel the story. When the last note fell from Mitsuhide’s lips, his little mouse stood with her fans up, her head thrown back. A pose of strength and beauty. Her heart was open to the world.

Mitsuhide clapped. 

The chatelaine dropped her pose, eyes flying open. “Stop it. Now you’re just being mean.” 

“Am I? Your performance was beautiful. As are you.” He walked to where she stood, and pushed the damp hair from her brow. “I love watching you move.”

She didn’t step away from him, only stared up. Like a mouse staring into the eyes of the devouring snake. Her cheeks were cherry red, exertion and his attention both adding to the stain. 

“I wish I could keep you like this for the rest of our lives.” The words came out unexpected, unintended. Such thoughts were not for the left hand of the Oda. He felt his own face flush.

“I wish -” she reached up to stroke the side of his face with her finger. 

Mitsuhide could not let her say what she wished. He pressed a lightning quick kiss to her mouth. Or, he meant it to be fast. But the softness of her lips, and the sweet gasp she made drew him in. He found himself holding her as a drowning man to his raft. His hands, traitor hands, slid down her back. His tongue parted the silk and found the heat beyond. Her hungry mouth, her wild tongue. 

She kissed him back ferociously. Her little fingers gripped the collar of his costume. Her other hand found the small of his back and pulled him to her as if she too wanted to close any distance between them.

It was too much. A promise to himself, broken. She deserved better than a snake. A kitsune. She deserved a man with honor, here and in the far flung future she called home. Mitsuhide gently pushed her back. With a cruel, crescent moon smile he said, “It is true what they say about dancers, hm?”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I wish you’d stop teasing me. It’s not fair. I hate you so much.”

“But I love you, my little mouse.”

“Whatever. I’m done rehearsing.” She rolled her eyes and stalked back to their camp.

Mitsuhide was left with the buzzing of bees and the pounding of his own heart.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide smiled at the gathered dancers and musicians. Kamekichi, a broad shouldered, big voiced troupe leader who might have been a farmer in his previous life, had good reason to be proud of them. His performers featured several dancers that were beautiful in form, and clearly graceful. And the musicians had talent as well.

The camaraderie was a relaxing change from his role with the Oda forces. The constant plotting, the suspicion of the town’s folk. It was nice to just be a performer, even if that was another role he had to play for a time. He hoped his little mouse was enjoying it too.

She was uncharacteristically quiet since their arrival. The chatelaine sat nearby, watching him as he spoke with the troupe members. Mitsuhide wondered what she was thinking. Probably still in shock over the pretense of their marriage. He couldn’t imagine what she expected. Brother and sister? That would  … well, it might work but there was no way he was passing up a chance to enjoy her company before he was forced to let her go.

“You have such striking features. Kame said you’re a dancer?” The man across from him was young but his eyes told Mitsuhide that he knew the horrors and hardships of life on the road.

The warlord-dancer turned his attention to the musician. “I am.”

He laughed. “I would have known even without being told. You move too gracefully to be anything else. Me, I can barely get through the harvest festivals and temple blessings without tripping over my own feet.”

“It takes a lot of practice. I imagine with time you could manage. You should have seen my wife when we first started.” He looked meaningfully toward where she was sitting, but the chatelaine was gone.

The man saw where his glance landed and smiled. “I think one of the other musicians has whisked your girl away. How long did you say you’ve been married?”

“A week.” 

“That barely counts.” The musician gave a knowing laugh.

Mitsuhide couldn’t have mistaken the man’s tone if he’d tried to. He stepped away from him. “Ah, some might say that, but others believe that new love burns hottest. I’m afraid I can’t be without her even a moment.” A truth nestled in the lie.

He laughed and gestured with his head. “Aki took her that way, to see the stage. If you want to chase after.” 

He did want. Mitsuhide said thanks and set off. He continued with pleasantries as he made his way past the performers. It took a little more time, but he didn’t want to look panicked. It wasn’t panic he was feeling anyhow. It was a cold burn in his chest … jealousy?

The thought almost stopped him midstep. But no. He couldn’t be jealous. He was just concerned. His little one was naive and defenseless. He needed to protect her. And to keep their cover. A newlywedded woman didn’t sneak off with musicians after all.

The stage was impossible to miss. A large, wood construction decked with colorful cloth ribbons and banners in the middle of an open meadow. There were stairs at the front of it and at the back, where the performers could walk out into their audience, or exit inconspicuously. But that wasn’t what Mitsuhide came to see.

He saw a wide back, covered in bright cloth and embroidery, sleeveless tanned arms. A likely candidate for Aki, the wife-thieving musician. And then he heard the telltale sound of his little mouse’ squeak. 

“I’m not very good yet. You don’t want to see me dance!”

“I could help you practice. If you need some music.” The young man’s voice. He reached forward to lay a hand on the chatelaine, still blocked from view by the much larger figure. “I bet you’re better than you think.”

“I’m really not.” Shuffling footsteps. She came around Aki’s side, backing away from him.

Mitsuhide skipped the stairs and leapt onto the platform. “Beloved? My sweet little steam bun?”

“That’s my- my Mitsu!” 

The musician turned. He gave Mitsuhide a cocky grin. “I was just showing the lady around. Offering my help.”

“I’m sure you were.” Mitsuhide stepped around the young brigand and wrapped an arm around his little one’s waist. His eyes narrowed as he took in the long, wind tousled hair, the open collar of Aki’s shirt, and tanned expanse of chest, exposed nearly to his belly. 

“I’m fine, Mitsu. Aki gave me a tour of our stage. He was telling me about the last show they put on too.”

Aki’s hands went to his hips. “It was crazy. We had to stop mid-show, grab everything, and run. Barely made it out of town before the fighting reached it.” He winked at the chatelaine. “I’m a fast runner. Plenty of speed and stamina.”

Mitsuhide could feel the blush staining his little one’s cheeks. No one should make her blush like that. No one but him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, fitting her more tightly to his side. “I am sure you quite heroically ran away from the battle.”

Unphased, the musician laughed. “As heroic as a man with a wadaiko gets.”

“I don’t blame you. I’d run too,” the chatelaine said diplomatically. "I don't think a drum offers much protection."

Mitsu stroked her side with his fingers, reminding himself that for a few days, she was his wife no matter how many young, fit musicians flirted with her. “I would just love to hear more about it, but I’m afraid my wife and I need to get to our room and prepare for tomorrow.”

“Shame,” Aki’s grin continued on. “Maybe we’ll find some time to spend together tomorrow.” He winked a the chatelaine, but by then Mitsuhide was already turning away, his little mouse in tow.

He guided her down from the stage and toward the inn.

“You can let go of me anytime now.”

“I don’t have a mind to.” Mitsuhide smiled down at her. “If you don’t want to walk like this, I can pick you up and carry you to our room.”

She jabbed his side with an elbow. “You wouldn’t!”

This was precisely the kind of encouragement he enjoyed from her. Mitsu swept an arm behind her legs and lifted her up against his chest. “There, beauty. Now you don’t have to walk another step.” Just to make the point, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Several of the troupe members were laughing or sighing over the sight of them. Kamekichi gave them a wave and a wink. “You won’t be disturbed tonight! See you in the morning!”

In a low voice pitched for his ears only, the chatelaine muttered. “I hate you. Husband.”

“Mmmm, and I love you too. Such a sweet wife to pierce my heart with tender words.” 

Her struggle to stay in character while raging against him was adorable. She settled for wrapping an arm around his shoulders, hiding her other hand so she could poke his chest with one, pointy finger. “I will get you back for this.”

“I look forward to it. I really do.”

Chapter Text

At first, Mitsuhide was mildly annoyed. His little mouse was not where she should be. After she'd stormed out, he thought to find her sulking someplace nearby. Apparently, sharing a room was so terrible that she needed to be even further from him than that. He could not find her in the inn or wandering near the stage. He did not see her around the baths. He thought she might have gone off with that musician again on another tour, but the troupe were all abed or out in groups to eat and drink. No one knew where the chatelaine was.

His irritation turned to fear. She wasn’t as helpless as most women - something he made sure of in his lessons - but she was naive. It would be simple for some bandit to lure her away from people and - and - Mitsuhide tried not to see the images that flowed into his mind. The torn flesh and broken bones, the vacant eyes of a victim. 

“I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long.” He tasted the salt of her tears on his lips, the ones he’d kissed from her lashes earlier. So hurt that she would rather sleep in a barn or a shed than in a room with him. His foolish desires hurt her. And now his little mouse was out there alone.

Mitsuhide began walking toward town. He knew the chatelaine wouldn’t have set off for the forest on her own - not after the stories he’d told her about it. But the town had a tea shop and several places to eat. She might have even looked for some other place to sleep, he thought. His mouth curved up in a wry smile. That sounded like something she would do.

The road was empty of townspeople. Few traveled when the sun set. He was surprised when he saw a bent figure shuffling along the path beyond the edge of town. And more shocked still when he recognized the clothes, and the line of her jaw barely visible beneath a messy fall of hair.

“My little one! There you are!” He ran toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders, running his hands down her arms. Checking her for any sign of injury. He knew without asking that something had happened. Her clothes hung askew, bun was a tangled mess. Her gaze, unfocused. 

She stared up at him blankly. 

“What happened to you?” Mitsuhide’s voice cracked on the words, his throat closing. 

Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment and then the words came in a quiet, thready voice. “I -” she swallowed. “I just - I got back -” That was all she could manage before the dam of her tears broke wide open. Her whole face crumpled, whatever words she had turning into a wail.

Mitsuhide pulled her to his chest. He felt her shudder against him, crying so hard he thought she might break. Hot tears soaked his costume through to the skin. He felt his own eyes begin to sting and the stirrings of a cold rage waken in his belly. Whoever did this to her, he would make them pay a thousand times over. There was no torment greater than what he would visit on them. And he knew a great many torments.

His hands made gentle circles on her back, and he whispered endearments into her hair. “You will be alright. You are safe, my love. Safe.” 

When she calmed enough to stop shaking, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the inn. He didn’t go straight to their room, though he was certain his little one needed sleep. She needed comfort first. 

“I-is this the bath house?” Her voice was raw and low. 

“Mmm, yes.” He set her down and went about filling the tub with water. The inn allowed guests to use the baths, but they didn’t provide any service. It felt good though, to pump the water and stoke the fire. He also grabbed his travel bag with the water and trail rations. He didn’t want to ask the innkeeper for anything yet, and she might be hungry or thirsty.

When he finished, her tears were almost dry. 

“W-why?”

He sat down on the bench beside her and began untangling the mess her bun had become. “Because you need a bath.”

She gave a choked laugh and started to ask another question.

“Shhh, dearest. Your throat sounds like you’ve torn something.” He handed her the water.

She sipped it gingerly, as if each swallow hurt.

Mitsuhide combed his fingers gently through her hair, working the knots out carefully. He could feel her begin to relax. She set the water down and leaned back against him. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, little mouse.” He kissed the top of her head and then began to undo the fastenings on her costume. 

She stiffened up immediately and clenched her eyes shut.

Mitsuhide stopped and waited for her to open her eyes again. 

She leaned her head back to look at him. 

He kept eye contact with her as he finished untying and unbuttoning. The costume slid off her shoulders and onto the bench. Mitsuhide carefully checked her over, wincing at the sight of bruises on her arms, and one on her side as if she had been kicked. 

“I thought - I thought I would surprise you.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. 

Mitsuhide pulled her close again as another shiver went through her. 

“It wasn’t … what I - I thought it would be -”

He lifted her up with him to stand and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “Stop thinking about it. Right now, I want you to relax. You are so upset you can’t even speak. There will be time for you to tell me what happened after you are calm.”

“I - ok.” 

Mitushide gently removed the rest of her costume. Her legs were bruised as well, the shin and her thigh. The cold anger coiled in him, a serpent in wait. 

She must have seen some of that in his eyes. His little one moved her hands to cover herself.

“Ah, little mouse.” He shook his head. “I am only preparing your bath. No need to be shy. I won’t try anything.” Mitsuhide turned away from her to grab the cloth and bowl of water. He began to pat gently down her back, wiping away sweat and dust from travel. He wished he could wash away the day’s events as easily.

“This feels nice,” she sighed. Her breath caught in her throat, a little hiccup-sob. “Y-your hands are warm.”

“Just wait until you get in the bath. It will make all the aches and pains fade away.” 

Her sad laugh was almost worse than the crying. “All of them, Mitsu?”

He could not promise her the impossible. Some wounds were beyond hot water and a gentle touch.

Water dripped down her back and the curve of her backside. Mitsuhide followed it down, almost worshipful. Even bruised and battered, she was his beauty. He wished this moment had come in a happier time and place. When he could cherish her as she deserved. Tonight he could only try to comfort her.

“What are you thinking,” she asked.

Mitsuhide, kneeling behind her, dipped his cloth into the water bowl. “I am thinking you must be feeling better already.” He raised the cloth to finish rinsing her calf. “Your voice -” His words caught in his throat as she turned around. He felt his heart begin to race in his chest, a gallop louder than calvary. Heat stained his cheeks.

“I like the way you look at me. As if I am worth something.”

Mitsuhide looked away. “You are.” He was the one swallowing now. It took a moment to get the tremor in his hands under control, but when he looked up at her again, his desire was firmly in check. He began to gently wipe down the front of her legs.

Neither said anything as he worked his way up. His little one’s breath was ragged, her cheeks pinked as he rubbed little circles down her low belly, and up under her breasts. His own was no better. It was a miracle that he managed to finish washing her without dropping the cloth to press kisses to her pert nipples.

“There -” he dropped the cloth in the water. “Now get into the tub. I’ll fetch your clothes and a towel.”

She got into the wooden tub, sighing as the hot water closed over her. “It feels so good.” 

“I’m glad.” Mitsuhide opened the door to leave.

“You could stay. If you wanted.” 

It was a tempting offer. But he couldn’t accept. Not when she was hurt. He would never forgive himself for sullying her. Besides, it was only a few hours ago she objected to sharing a room. 

Mitsuhide’s crescent moon smile returned as he glanced back at her. “Surely you don’t mean you need that kind of comfort? I could be persuaded.”

His little one huffed at him in annoyance, as intended. “Of course not!” She sunk deeper into the water. “Can’t believe I let you see me naked,” she muttered. 

“I will cherish the memory,” he replied, letting the door close behind him before she could retort.

Chapter Text

Many people called Mitsuhide a kitsune. He liked the reputation. A trickster spirit, dangerous and fey. But tonight, he felt more man than spirit. Anger, a need for vengeance, ate at his mask of calm. Part of him wanted to storm into the daimyo’s estate and duel that useless fool. Then stab Yoshiaki through the heart with a blade still wetted by his ally’s blood. 

The fantasy was very real in his mind’s eye, and he knew it would be satisfying. But a rash act would ruin months of carefully laid plans. His revenge on the daimyo would come in the days and weeks after the traveling actors left this village. A plague of spoiled rice and rotten meat for his troops. Sick horses. Shattered weapons. Truly, it was amazing what could be accomplished with a little money and a sympathetic ear. 

This foolish daimyo had made little attempt to care for his people and he mistreated his servants and warriors. It did not take much effort to push them toward desertion and rebellion. They were already thinking it - Mitsuhide only helped them see how it was possible. And in case his hints had not been enough, he left several ‘clues’ to be discovered in his absence that would reveal the extent of corruption and greed. 

The territory would be begging the Oda forces to step in and stabilize them. To offer food and safety for the people, and honor for the soldiers. All accomplished with carefully applied venom and a few kitsune tricks. Mitsuhide only wished he could be there to see the daimyo humbled. 

That left Yoshiaki. Deposed, powerless, yet still a man of influence and position. Untouchable. Well … untouchable for those with honor and something to lose. 

Mitsuhide looked at the futon, where his little mouse lay sleeping. Her eyes were still puffy and red from tears. Something to lose. 

What had she said? That she held on to the vision of him as someone great? He swallowed an unfamiliar sensation. A warmth that he did not have time or the luxury to enjoy. And yet. His shirt was still damp from her crying. And he could smell her on his skin, where he’d held her in his arms and calmed her. Told her she was safe.

Mitsuhide sighed. In that moment, all he said was truth. Every word. But now - was it still true? He looked down at the letter his agent delivered while he was out. Nobunaga called to Kyoto on false charges. It smacked of Yoshiaki’s meddling. But more, it meant the end game was nearly upon him. He would be anathema. Traitor. So that he could do what needed to be done.

“At least I can make Yoshiaki pay. Of all his crimes, the one I cannot forgive is that he made you cry.” 

His little mouse smiled at the sound of his voice. Her hands tugged the thin blanket closer to her chin. 

She would not be smiling when he left her. Mitsuhide knew now that it would break her heart. He’d seen it in her eyes. Did she know it would break his too?

Morning found him finishing missives to his agents. He would need to send them off today. But he’d also thought of a second revenge. Something befitting his kitsune nature, that would not spoil all his hard work. It would be eminently satisfying.

Despite his intent focus on work, Mitsuhide felt it when his little mouse woke up. Her eyes on his back, her soft breath. He could almost see the sleep-sweet half closed eyes and parted lips. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and pull her into his arms. Kiss her until neither of them had breath and then make love until hunger drove them from the room.

But he was the warlord kitsune and he had responsibilities.

Chapter Text

Yoshimoto felt sick. His stomach churned acidly from the moment he’d stepped foot in this village as part of Yoshiaki’s entourage. It was harder to give up nobility than he’d expected. The shogun’s parade of expensive alcohol and cheap women was wearing thin. In truth, it had since the first day. But being here in this village, seeing how the shogun’s allies treated their people - vassals and peasants alike - was too much.

And then she’d walked into the manor, dragged along by the daimyo’s guards. The girl from Azuchi. Sasuke’s childhood friend. Her fright and anger fading to apathy had broken his heart. Worse, he’d known how she would be treated after Yoshiaki rejected her. Doing nothing felt like her suffering was on his hands. Something Yoshimoto could not conscience.

Beauty should be cherished. Deeper emotions lurked beneath that thought, but he refused to give them breath. They settled silently on his heart instead, seeds of an affection he would not - and could not - pursue. Yet when he saw her at the market, Yoshimoto could not pass by. He had to have her to himself, if only for a few moments, to explain at least.

She was docile enough when he clapped a hand over her mouth, grabbed her arm and dragged her from the market and into the bordering forest. A farmer’s path, overgrown with weeds. It smelled of growing things, ripening fruit, and soft, dark earth. Beautiful. It would be the perfect setting for her - a jewel sparkling with life amidst this green vista.

That’s what Yoshimoto was thinking when she flipped him onto the ground. 

“You got the jump on me, but I can destroy y- Yoshimoto?” Her expression went from rage to confusion in the blink of any eye. 

With cheeks flushed and eyes wide, she was breathtaking. All he could do for several heartbeats was stare and smile, words flying from his mind like birds fleeing the hunting hawk. “I see you are not only a patron of the fine arts, but of the martial as well,” he managed after untying his tongue. 

“Oh my god! Yoshimoto, are you alright? I hope I didn’t hurt you! Mitsuhide’s been teaching me how to defend myself but I didn’t mean to unleash on you!” 

“I’ll be fine. I should apologize for handling you so rudely. I dearly wished to speak with you in private.” Inside, he cringed a little over her reaction. She wouldn’t have said that to Shingen or Yuki, or even Sasuke. 

She smiled and shook her head, a loose hair falling against her cheek like a delicate leaf shaken free of it’s branch. “You could have said something instead of dragging me out here.”

“Yes,” he agreed, struggling to a sitting position. He thought his back was certainly bruised, and his shoulder would be sore. No less than he deserved. Yoshimoto looked back up at her. “I thought about simply asking, but people tend to notice me. It makes private discussions troublesome.”

The beauty considered his argument for her rough treatment and after a moment, she smiled more widely. 

Yoshimoto considered this an agreement, so he added, “I wanted to avoid alerting Yukimura and Sasuke to my presence.”

“But they followed you all the way here! They are worried about you.” She pushed the loose hair behind her ear, her expression a mix of annoyance and concern.

“I expect they are.” He tried to change the subject, unwilling to talk with her about his own sorrows. Everyone had burdens, and his were for his shoulders alone. “That aside, I was actually out looking for you.”

“For me?” Her eyes went wide again, colored glass through which he could see the vibrant spirit in her. 

That precious expression made Yoshimoto want to stroke her cheek, to feel her warmth, the silk of her skin. To make her sigh through those same rosebud lips, and watch the way the light shifted in her gaze as her lids grey heavy. A penitent worshipper - and he realized she was waiting for him to reply while he just stared. “Ah, yes. I saw you enter the manor last night. I asked my servants what happened -” He stood and reached for her hands, clasping them between his own. Her skin was soft, but for the callouses on her thumbs. It only made the rest of her feel silkier to touch. 

Then Yoshimoto bowed his head. “I wanted to tell you I am sorry - so sorry - that you were put through that.”

She didn’t pull away, but her tone was not one of forgiveness. “Thanks. I - in my hometown, we don’t treat each other that way. But I’m …” she trailed off, taking a moment to swallow her emotions. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. But hey! You didn’t do all this just to check up on me, did you?”

Yoshimoto stroked the back of her hand. It was a small gesture of comfort, one she probably didn’t even notice. “I did.”

“Thanks! That makes me feel better.” Her smile was genuine, if still shaded by her experience.

He let go of her hands and took a step back, realizing he needed to stop putting off his the real reason he’d brought her out here. It was hard to focus on goodbyes though, with her standing so close. He could see the press of her breasts against the thin fabric of her costume, the way they rose and fell with her breath. The beginning curve of her hip. His eyes followed the line of her, painting her figure into the confines of his memory.

“Yoshimoto?”

He coughed. “Ah, sorry. I - I wanted to tell you that I think you are incredibly strong. Life and all its forces flow through you as naturally as wind, trees, and water. Yet you - you outshine them all.” His voice cracked at the end, emotion showing through the polish of his practiced words.

She was blushing brilliantly now, her eyes lidded and downcast.

“I feel as if you are the opposite of me,” he added softly. An impossible star shining down on the dark pool of still water that was him. 

“What? No! You are as shiny as they come. You should have seen yourself in Azuchi!” She held out a hand to him, one he did not take. “I wish you could see yourself talk about art and beauty. You come alive.” 

Yoshimoto knew she believed what she said. He could see it in her eyes, but he could not see himself as she did. He knew better. “I am pleased to know you think that.” He moved his eyes to the trees, unable to keep looking at her. She was simply too bright.

After a moment of awkward silence, “Yoshimoto … what are you doing with a man like Yoshiaki? Why are you running from your friends?”

He found that he did not wish to lie to her. “You could say that I have come to see the once stalled fall of the Imagawa clan to its natural conclusion.” The words fell from his lips like pearls of poison.

She started to ask him another question, but Yoshimoto could not say more. His chest ached, and his tongue felt swollen. He only wanted to say goodbye and that was done. Turning to look at her one last time, he smiled. “Please. Be careful on your way back to the market.”

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide woke before his little mouse as usual. The sun was pale on the horizon, still sitting below the treetops to the east. He yawned and stood carefully from where he’d fallen asleep the night before. Sitting across from the chatelaine, watching her. 

It was difficult to maintain composure around her some times. The way she would simply say whatever she thought or felt. You never could guess what might come from her lips next. He still felt … a disturbance when he thought of what she’d said the day before. 

He could remember the moment as if it was painted - no, fo-to-graff-ed, as she would say. Her face, flushed from heat and the walk back from the market. Her eyes wide, lips curved in that little smile she usually wore. Her fingers twitching at her sides as she fidgeted. 

“I care about you. A lot.” 

He felt a fluttering in his belly, heat in his face. 

His little mouse shifted in her sleep, pushing the blanket off a bare leg. 

Mitsuhide did what any man would do when fighting a battle he could not win. He slipped out of the room to walk in the cool morning air. Retreat, regroup, prepare.

“I care about you. A lot.” The words followed him, playing again and again in his mind. Why had she said that? And why now? He could not be distracted - what he wanted did not matter. He had this mission and then his time with her would end.

Today would kick his grand plan into action. The festival would see the last of his missives sent, and the delivery of little secrets to unravel this daimyo. His performance at the end of the night would be the final blow, spitting in the face of power. Then they would return to Azuchi and his disgrace. A disgrace he couldn’t allow to taint his little one.

He looked down at his hands. Long fingers, pale, rough with swordsman’s calluses. They should be stained with blood. But somehow, it always washed off. The bits under his nails, the rust that settled into the whorls of his fingerprints. 

“I care about you. A lot.” 

She could not mean what she said. Hands like his did not deserve to hold a lover. Not one as innocent as his little mouse. Perhaps if he was the man she imagined him to be, or the man he could have been. A man unstained by the harsh reality of this world. 

A butterfly landed on a kikyo-zaki growing up a nearby wall. The butterfly was brilliant against the dark violet of the blossom. A contrast between a creature of daylight and a one that thrived in the dim half light of dusk and dawn. 

Mitsuhide watched it as it fluttered up from one flower to another. In the brightening dawn, the kikyo-zaki blooms curled shut. Unable to stand the brilliant glow for long. Yet, for a short time the flowers could open to the sun and to the touch of the butterfly. A breath together before the world pushed them back apart.

He had his little one until they reached Azuchi. Was it a sin to glory in the moments of happiness his fate allowed him?

“Just for now, let me have you as the man I could have been.” Mitsuhide whispered the words like a prayer. 

Chapter Text

The stage boards creaked under the weight of the musicians as they moved to position. Mitsuhide watched them from beneath his mask. His heartbeat was slow, his breath steady. He was ready for this. He walked to center stage and began the play he’d written for himself. His revenge.

Acting with the troupe was, if anything, easier than a normal day in Azuchi. He did not have to pretend the mask was real. His honest dishonesty fit perfectly with the players and their art. Was it any wonder that he could play his part so easily?

The audience laughed as the kitsune made a fool of the lord. Again and again, driving home the similarities between the fictional fool and the Chugoku daimyo. It was a delicate task to draw the parallel yet leave it unspoken. The sharp edge to the laughter, a subdued current of anxiety under the gasps of awe. 

Mitsuhide wondered if his little mouse understood the import of this act. His eyes scanned the crowd. Yoshiaki, he saw, grasped it very well. As did the daimyo, with his bulging eyes and lips pressed thin. He spotted her standing with the other players, her hand over her mouth. Wide-eyed but smiling. She knew, he thought. And that made the whole thing even sweeter.

The final moment came all too soon. The climax of the story. Mitsuhide motioned for the chatelaine to take the stage. She came up the stairs, her steps light and dancing. In the light of the hanging lanterns, she looked ethereal to him. As a kitsune’s maiden should. With this final lines, he swept her into his arms and pressed a masked kiss to her lips. 

Her smile was so wide. “Did you do this for me?” She whispered the question, face turned toward him and away from the audience. 

“They should never have made a kitsune’s wife cry.”

The way she threw her arms around him made the entire effort worth it. Mitsuhide felt a warmth build in his chest. An unfamiliar lightness that could not belong to the left hand of the Oda and yet, tonight, it did. 

“You there! Take off your mask!” 

The daimyo’s shout took Mitsuhide by surprise, though it should not have. With his little one in his arms, he ran for the edge of the stage. 

“Someone! Stop them!” 

The daimyo’s men tried to reach the stage but the audience slowed them down. The players wisely backed away, neither assisting nor impeding the escape. Mitsuhide gave a last insouciant wave and then he was gone. Bearing his princess in his arms. His wife, for a few days more.

He set her down at the treeline and together they fled into the woods. The horses were tied a little way in, saddlebags already loaded. By the time they reached them, his little mouse was laughing.

“Mitsuhide! That was amazing! Every moment.”

Her eyes were full of starlight and love when they landed on him. He could almost see the dreams dancing through her head. One did not need to be a mind-reader. It was in the tentative way she licked her lips. The cant of her hips. The way she said his name, as if it was half-prayer, half-confession. 

“It was. You were amazing, little mouse.” He smiled at her, and couldn’t help the way his hands sought her skin. Brushing his fingertips along the line of her jaw, down her shoulder. 

“S-so what do we do now?”

“We’ll need to shed these costumes and return to Azuchi as mere travelers of no note. I hope you don’t mind?” He smiled. “I know you enjoyed being a dancer these last few days.”

She leaned into his touch, her return smile one of genuine joy. “I did. It was nice to be part of something. Even if just for pretend. And … I liked getting to help you, though I don’t feel like I did much.”

“You did what I needed you to do. And you did it perfectly.” His hand slid down her arm and he found his fingers entwined with hers. Mitsuhide forced himself to let go of her but she grabbed ahold of his sleeve. 

“Mitsuhide?”

“Yes?”

“Could we pretend for a little while longer?”

“You want to be a dancer for a little while longer?” Mitsuhide knew full well that wasn’t what she meant but the way her cheeks went pink and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of outrage was entirely worth it.

She smacked his arm. “I hate you.”

“I love you too,” he chuckled and pulled her close. She melted into the embrace, her face pressed to his chest. 

“I wanted to talk to you. About … things.” Her voice was almost a whisper. Thready with nerves.

Mitsuhide kissed the top of her head. “There will be time when we get to Azuchi. For now, wife, we have a long road ahead.” Part of him wanted to hear her confession. He didn’t need her to say ‘I love you’ to know what she felt. He wanted to. But he couldn’t allow that conversation to happen. His little one would heal easier from his loss this way. 

She nodded. “Alright. But I claim dibs on you as soon as Nobunaga is done with you.”

“Dibs?”

His little mouse poked him. “It means you’re mine after you give him our report.”

“I am yours already.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. This was so dangerous, this game. Playing too close to the fire. Mitsuhide pushed her away before he kissed more than that. “Now go change your clothes. We haven’t got a lot of time before the daimyo’s guards search this far.”

“I’m going.” She smiled up at him and then scampered off to do as he asked.

Mitsuhide took his own clothes from the pack. They felt heavy in his hands. The weight of his role. But then, he’d never really set it down. Only pretended to. That was the the kitsune’s path. 

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide knelt to make a small fire. After riding through the night and most of the day, it was safe enough to stop. Besides, his little mouse couldn’t handle much more no matter what brave face she put on it. 

“Didn’t you tell me this part of the forest was haunted by a vengeful ghost?” She was setting out their bed rolls when she asked, trying to pretend there wasn’t an edge of nervousness to the question.

“Did I? Hmmm.” Mitsuhide grinned.

She tossed a pebble at him. “You are so mean.”

“I am. But not to my little one. Just keep your bedroll close to mine and I’ll make sure you’re safe for the night.” 

“You’re just saying that to get me in arm’s reach.” She settled her bedroll beside his.

Mitsuhide pretended wide-eyed surprise. “Am I? Oh dear. But then, you’re moving your bedroll so I must assume you don’t object.”

“Well … I might not.” She was blushing again and wouldn’t look directly at him. 

He grinned his crescent moon smile. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

They unpacked their camp items and settled the horses in companionable silence. Mitsuhide couldn’t help the way his eyes followed her, or all the little reasons he found to touch her. Brushing fingertips as they reached for the same item. Bumping shoulders while they unsaddled the horses. Resting his palm on her back when she stood close. 

“I - I guess I can boil some water. I got some dried noodles for us when I was shopping,” the chatelaine said, but didn’t move away from his touch.

Mitsuhide stroked her back lightly, running his fingers in little circles. She seemed to like that. “Let me boil the water. I have a little surprise for you.”

“Oh?” She looked up, eyes half-lidded.

“Mmm, a spring just a little ways into the trees. We were fairly close to it the first time we camped in these woods. I thought you might enjoy a bath. Even if it’s cold.”

His little mouse laughed softly. “If anyone had a hidden hotspring it would be you. I’m almost disappointed. But that sounds nice. A quick, cold bath before dinner and bed. Can you show me where it is?”

Mitsuhide walked her to the spring. It was a deep pool that fed into a narrow creek. Really only a little larger than a bath, with dark granite sides and sandy bottom. The afternoon light glinted off the still water, and the bamboo swayed and creaked. 

“Are you sure it’s safe here? No ghosts?” The chatelaine looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Certainly not in broad daylight,” he chuckled. “But if you like, I can stay here and keep watch?”

“Pffft. As if I’d let you just - just watch me.” Her eyes told a different story. Conflict between her pride and desire. 

Mitsuhide ruffled her hair. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you nude. But as you like.” He turned to leave. “If you need me, just scream.” He dodged the twig she tossed his way without looking. 

He had to admit, it was hard to wait for her there. He busied himself with little tasks. Boiling the water, shifting the bedrolls. Staring up at the trees and imagining what she was doing right that second. Ah, to be a water drop …

The noodles were ready by the time she returned. Bits of dried fish and pepper made a nice broth for them - or at least it smelled good. For Mitsuhide, there was only edible and inedible. He hoped his little mouse approved even if it was nowhere near the delicacies Masamune could prepare. 

She came back, her hair wet and hanging down her back. Her clothes were loosely tied, her skin still damp. 

“Feel better?”

“A little cold, but yeah.” She sat down beside him and leaned into his shoulder. “Something smells good. Did you cook?”

“I boiled some things in a pot.” 

She tasted the broth and smiled. “It’s good.” 

They ate together, sharing the spoon. Mitsuhide enjoyed every bite, mostly because he teasingly convinced his little one to feed him. It was entertaining to watch how carefully she moved. But the best part was when he took the spoon from her.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Returning the favor. Now open your mouth -” He held the spoon up, blowing lightly across the soup.

“I can do that myself.”

“But you don’t have to.” He leaned closer, the spoon between them, until there was barely a hairsbreadth between the spoon and her lips. “Open wide.”

Her expression was mortified but she did what he told her to. 

“There. It wasn’t too hot? Not too much?”

“Nope. Now give me the spoon.” The chatelaine held her hand out.

“It is your turn to feed me, yes?” Mitsuhide’s eyes glinted with mischief.

“You are enjoying this too much.” 

Mitsuhide shrugged. “I will not deny it.”

With dinner finished, they both washed up at the creek and packed everything away. It would be a cold breakfast in the saddle tomorrow to put more distance between them and Chugoku. Mitsuhide wondered if Yoshiaki or the daimyo sent anyone to follow them this far. It was possible they might be dogged all the way to Azuchi. He doubted it though. Too much trouble for them and too little reward.

“You know, you should probably take a bath too.” The chatelaine poked his arm. “I can wait here by the fire. I don’t mind.”

“It will be dark. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. You’ll be right back, so I don’t mind.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, you need it.”

Mitsuhide felt mildly offended. “I see. Then maybe you should come with me and inspect my work. I’d hate to return and find I am not clean enough to suit your tastes.”

This had the desired effect of reducing his little one to a stammering blush. 

He grinned. “Then if you won’t inspect me, I expect no complaints.” 

“Pfft. That’s - that’s not - I can’t -” She sighed, flustered.

“No complaints then.” 

He left her at the camp and walked to the spring. It was dark enough that the frogs and lizards were scurrying in the underbrush now, and the crickets were singing to the darkening sky. Mitsuhide felt at peace. Even knowing this was temporary - he had to savor this moment. He undid the ties on his clothes and hung them in a nearby tree. Naked and feeling oddly vulnerable, he lowered himself into the cold spring water. It wasn’t as bad as he expected - just a little cooler than the air. 

It did feel good to rinse away the dirt and sweat. He rubbed his skin clean with handfuls of sand and washed his face. Mitsuhide was about to rinse his hair when something caught his attention. A rustling in the brush, the almost-silent tread of stealthy footsteps. 

He pretended not to notice, but his eyes scanned the forest. It could be the daimyo’s men. Or bandits. He glanced toward his clothes, his sword and shoes were at the foot of the tree. Not far, but far enough to leave him open if his stalker struck. 

Mitsuhide rose up half out of the water. Pretending to stretch in the general direction of his things. There was a sound then, a sharp inhale or a gasp. A feminine gasp, almost … a squeak. His eyes tracked toward the sound.

And there she was. His little mouse. Hiding behind some brush. Her gaze met his but he pretended not to notice. Smiling, he continued his stretch. Letting the water lap at his waist. His hips. He could feel her eyes on him, the way she stared at his exposed skin. Mitsuhide was a man used to being admired, but he’d never enjoyed it as much as this. Knowing she thirsted for him as much as he, for her. It made him want to do rash things.

He made a dance of leaving the cold water and slowly dressing. It was, he decided, a fun way to tease. But it would have been more so if he could see all the expressions she made. He wished there were time to do it again in a place she couldn’t hide.

The chatelaine scurried back to camp when he was mostly dressed. He couldn’t miss the sound of her movements - clumsier now than when she approached.

At the fire, she waited for him. Her hands clasped innocently in her lap. Sitting on her bedroll as if she’d been there the whole time. “Did you have a good bath?”

“Oh yes. It was very nice.” He knelt behind her and pulled her up against him. “I wouldn’t have minded your company. It was lonely.” He kissed the tip of her ear and down the side of her neck.

“Ah. Yes. I. I had to. Stay. Here.”

“Of course,” he murmured into her shoulder. “Now come here and help me get warm.” 

The chatelaine opened her mouth to protest but he brushed a featherlight kiss across it before she could.

“You’re still my wife, remember? For a little while longer.”

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide felt a growing tension as they approached Azuchi. He’d never feared his duty before, but today it felt like a blade at his neck. He was barely able to keep up his end of the conversation with his little mouse.

“And then we can visit that teahouse, you remember the one with the plum dumplings? I think I’d like to -” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going wide as she spotted the flags atop the tenshu. “Look! Mitsuhide, we’re almost home!”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, I can’t wait for a hot bath and some clean clothes! And to be off this horse.” Her smile was wide and innocent.

Mitsuhide smiled back, his lips thin and pale. “Yes, all of those things.”

Some of his anxiety must have come through because her grin faded. “Is there something I should be worried about? You don’t sound happy to be back.”

“I am.” He closed his emotions off from himself and put his mask back into place. It was time, after all. “There is much to do, little mouse. Remember the summons to Kyoto?”

She nodded mutely.

“Good.” Mitsuhide reached across the gap between them to brush his fingers lightly down her cheek. “I want you to go enjoy yourself though. Even if I am … too busy to enjoy these things with you.”

The chatelaine pursed her lips. “But Mitsu, it’s not as much fun by myself. I can just wait for the teahouse and stuff, until you do have time.”

“Heh, if you feel that strongly, I’ll send Kyubei to look after you. I don’t want you to miss a moment.” He pulled his hand back from where it settled on her shoulder. “Your time here is brief. You should make the most of it before you go home.”

She swallowed, the color fading from her face. “R-right. Yes. Before I go home. I almost forgot.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “You must be more exhausted than I realized.”

“Mhmm. That’s it.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

They approached the gate in strained silence. Mitsuhide refused to break it. He’d done only necessary damage, a gentle push. It would only hurt more later to breach that distance between them now. 

For her part, his little one looked thoughtful. Melancholy. Her gaze fixed on nothing in particular as they rode closer to Azuchi. 

Mitsuhide nodded to the guards as they reached the gate. He was only a little surprised when they stepped in front of the horses, weapons at the ready. 

More than a dozen men filed out from the guard post behind the first two. Their expressions were hard as stone. At a signal from their officer, they sprang into action. Without a word, they pulled him from his horse and flung him to the ground. They pinned his arms behind him and ground his face into the paving stones.

“Such a warm welcome home,” he murmured. He wished they’d waited until his little mouse was off to her quarters. He hated for her to see this, but perhaps it would be the final break from him that she needed. This betrayal and humiliation.

The chatelaine leapt from her horse, trying to come between him and the guards. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop it!”

Mitsuhide wondered if she was aware of her imperious tone. The aura of command that she wore as a princess of the Oda. He didn’t think so. And perhaps, it was only her natural state. That fire and defiance in her. He loved that about her, and that love caused him more pain than the paving stones bruising his cheek.

The commanding officer ignored her completely. “Mitsuhide Akechi, we are arresting your for conspiracy against Lord Oda.”

His underling, the man with his knee on Mitsuhide’s back added, “I knew I’d get you one day, snake.” 

“The agent you captured before confessed everything in your absence. He told us you were working with him the whole time,” the commanding officer said. 

“Did he now?” Mitsuhide forced a dry laugh from his cracked lips.

Again, his little mouse tried to order a halt to the arrest. Reminding the soldiers that she was chatelaine, as if that position could command anything from these warriors.

One of the soldiers tried to move her away. “My lady, this is a case of treason-” He began but she twisted out of his reach and knelt down beside Mitsuhide.

“Mitsuhide, please - tell them it’s not true. You just returned from saving the Oda forces! Tell them it’s a lie! Tell them you haven’t plotted against anyone!” Her voice rose into a cry by the end, begging him to set this right.

It tore his heart to hear her like this. He wrenched a hand out of the guard’s grasp and reached toward her, her name on his lips. But the soldiers were faster. They pulled her away. 

“Stop it! Why are you getting in my way?” His little one struggled against men twice her size, armed and armored. Her hands looked to small as they clutched and pulled at the arms holding her back. “What’s so dangerous about talking to him? Let me go!”

The commanding officer’s expression darkened. “Why are you so desperate to talk to him … unless … you’re his accomplice?”

Mitsuhide could not miss the shift of attention, the way the guards turned toward her. He couldn’t allow her to be pulled into this with him. “My accomplice?” He laughed. “Do not insult me!” He wrenched his shoulder up, shifting the guard that still held him down. “Do you think I would take an ignorant clumsy little girl into my confidence?”

The look on the chatelaine’s face was heartbreaking. He saw she was near to tears at this new betrayal. But more importantly, the commanding officer looked convinced. He gave a brief nod to his men. They pushed his little mouse out of the way, releasing her. 

That was all that mattered. The guards closed around him. 

“Don’t even think of trying to escape, Akechi.” One said, gripping a fistful of his hair to wrench his head back.

Mitsuhide smiled. “Now that you’ve found me out, I have no reason to fight. Boil me. Skewer me. Whatever punishment you think is fitting.”

His words had the intended effect. The guards, proud men and warriors, could hear the mockery in his voice. Their attention was on him solely. It might have devolved into a beating there and then, but the guard’s commander ordered them to take him to the dungeon. 

Despite his intention to keep his gaze forward, Mitsuhide could not help but look back as they led him away. His little mouse followed behind, tears streaking the dust on her cheeks. Her hair had come undone in the struggle, and strands of drifted in the breeze, floating around her face as if she were a spirit. And perhaps she was, he reflected. A spirit of light and hope, one now firmly beyond his reach. 

Mitsuhide smiled at her, despite the sharp pain in his heart. “I enjoyed our journey together,” he called. One truth in the midst of a sea of lies.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide smiled as the guards kicked and punched him. It wasn’t hard to keep his crescent moon grin in place when he knew it was the only victory he could have over his tormentors. They ripped his nails out, burned him with coals. They threatened to kill him but he knew they wouldn’t go that far. If Nobunaga planned an execution, it would not be in secret like this, at the hands of brutal warriors. It would be an event, public and weighty with intent.

The worst was the humiliation. He refused to eat when they tossed his food on the ground. Sat silent through their taunts. Made no sound when they offered worse to him, pissing at his cell bars or throwing offal at him. Dignity was the one thing he could hold on to. Besides, he needed to cling for only a little while longer.

Kyubei’s secret messages, hidden in the rotten food tossed by one guard in particular, told him the time was coming soon. His agents in Kyoto were moving, and so was his target. This knowledge kept him going. The focus on his goals. Every bit of his life could be thrown into the fire and consumed, as long as he succeeded. Mitsuhide thought with luck, he’d die after he dealt with his foe, and perhaps, in death gain some forgiveness from everyone that believed in his betrayal.

He was only glad his little mouse could not see him like this. He wanted her to remember him as he was in their journey and all the sunlit days they spent as he trained her. More than that … 

“Mitsuhide?” Her voice came from the dark beyond his cell door. His name, breathed like a prayer. 

“Little mouse,” he said, embarrassed at how his voice cracked painfully on the words. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?” 

She came closer, her eyes taking in the bruises and blood. “Oh god …” 

He didn’t think she even realized she’d spoken aloud. Her expression was a mix of horror and pity. It made his wounds sting to have her see them. Mitsuhide half expected her to break into tears right then, but she surprised him with an expression of pure, vengeful rage. Her eyes flashed, a very unmouse-like growl came from her pretty lips.

It made him crack the faintest smile. A mistake, as his lip began to bleed again.

Her eyes found his. “It’s going to be alright,” she told him. Her voice was warm and firm, holding more certainty and hope than this dungeon was used to seeing. “I’m going to patch you up.” His little one laid a hand on the bars that separated them.

Mitsuhide wanted nothing more than to lean into her touch. To feel those soft hands one last time but it would undo all his sacrifices. Every harsh word he’d used to drive a wedge between them. To protect her. “Leave. Leave and do not come back.” 

The command lost something when said in pained gasps.

“Like hell I will!”

Truly the gods are cruel, thought Mitsuhide. It was hard enough to stand his ground against the hostile guards, but how was he to fight her? His gentle, sweet mouse. He found that he did not have the heart for cruelty right now. Nor the words he needed to send her away. He dropped his gaze to the floor, hoping silence would be a strong enough ally.

She turned and ran out. The fading sound of her footsteps hurt and yet. She would be safe from him. Mitsuhide exhaled slowly. He wished he could sleep, but rest was hard to come by with his injuries and his tight-bound hands. 

His relief was short lived. The chatelaine returned a few moments later with a bag of bandages and other supplies. She knelt beside his cell and set the bag down. “Mitsuhide.”

He looked up to see her gaze. So kind. And so full of love. Had he really been willing to give her up? Could he say honestly that he would leave and never see her again? The thought sent a shot of pain through his chest that hurt more than all the torture combined.

“I need you to move closer to the bars if you want me to help you.” She held her hand out to him, beckoning.

Mitsuhide sighed. “Do not waste your effort on a prisoner.” It was a half-hearted protest at best, he knew.

His little mouse put on that princess authority she now carried. “I told you to get over here. Crawl if you must, but do it. Damn it.” 

It was strange to hear her tone, low and commanding, directed at him. In other circumstances, he thought, it could even be exciting. As it was, he didn’t have the will to argue. He tried to push himself to his feet but his body trembled at the least weight on his legs. So he dropped to all fours, dragging himself across the foul dirt with his tied hands. Elbows dug into the filth.

“I’ll never get the stains out of these clothes,” he grumbled. 

She cracked a half smile, but her eyes were brimming with tears.

He saw one escape the corner of her eye and slide down her face. It hung on her chin before dropping away. “Don’t cry now. I’m weak to your tears.” It was meant to make her smile but more tears followed the first. Mitsuhide pulled himself to the bars of his cell and raised his tied hands toward her face. He ached to be able to wipe her tears away.

The chatelaine took his hands gently, and cut the bonds. Her light touch stung, but he wouldn’t have pulled away from her for the world. “Did they even bother to ask you questions while they did this to you?”

Mitsuhide wasn’t sure if she really wanted an answer. Did it matter? Still, talking took his mind off her touch. “In this time, little mouse, the jail cell is often a place to mete out justice the public doesn’t want to see.” 

She frowned. “We’re talking about you being tortured. You could stand to sound a little less dispassionate.”

“You have enough passion for us both, I think.” He tried to smile and his lip bled more.

She winced and lifted a damp cloth to it, dabbing gently at the blood. She finished what she could do there in silence. The expression on her face was one of deep sadness. As if she suffered his torture, perhaps more than he did. Her cool, damp cloth wiped the dirt and blood from his brow.

“This feels so wrong. From where I sit, it seems you are the one behind bars.” Mitsuhide brushed a swollen finger down her forearm. “As if someone had inflicted grievous harm to you.” Someone like him, he thought. He reached through the bars to brush the tears from her cheek.

Grief and rage struggled across her face as she saw his hands at close range. “Those - those sick sons of -”

“Shh.” Mitsuhide settled a finger on her lips. “Don’t hold a grudge for my sake, little one. Such anger doesn’t suit you at all.”

“But-”

“Trust me. I deserve this - compared to what I’ve done, this isn’t even really punishment.” He smiled at her, a gentle smile that ill-befitted his words. “Don’t worry about me. I am hardly defeated. Look.” He stuck his tongue out between his scabbed lips.

“W-what am I supposed to see?”

“Do I still have a tongue?”

The chatelaine nodded. “Yes, I mean, that’s how you’re talking to me …” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Excellent. Then I still have my most potent weapon.”

She laughed softly, exasperated. 

Mitsuhide stroked her cheek. He wished he could kiss her. Hold her. Just once more. At least she’d stopped crying. He tried to reassure her. “Little mouse, there is no reason to worry for me. Alright?”

She nodded mutely. Her eyes closed for a moment, her face resting against his palm. Then she stiffened and sat up straight. “Mitsuhide. You - you planned this didn’t you?”

He pulled his hand back to his lap, contemplating her. She was always surprisingly insightful at the worst times. 

“What I don’t understand though is why.”

“Why?” He repeated.

The chatelaine nodded. “Yes. I know you are following the path you believe is right. But why? Why do you feel that you have to do all of this alone?”

Mitsuhide considered her question. There were several answers he could give. Some were even true. “I-”

“Mitsuhide! There you are!” Hideyoshi’s voice boomed from the corridor, full of his usual righteous anger. “Wha - what the hell have they done to you? Who ordered this?!” If he’d been angry at approach, this sent him into a motherly rage. 

In a way, Mitsuhide was almost glad for the bars that separated them. One never knew what Hideyoshi might do when his ire was up. He smiled as best he could. “Gracious, now I have two overly sentimental visitors. If I’d known you were coming, I would have made tea.”

Hideyoshi grimaced. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?” He slammed a hand against the cell door. “Explain yourself!” He started to reach through the bars, but the chatelaine caught his arm.

“Hide! No, don’t take it out on Mitsuhide. Please.”

The warlord seemed to notice her for the first time. He dropped his arm and looked down, ashamed. “I know. I just - I can’t take not knowing the truth.”

Unable to hold back, Mitsuhide chuckled. “You really need to work on your patience, monkey. I hear it’s considered an attractive quality in a man.”

“This is not the time to joke.” Hideyoshi’s tone was still hot with unspent anger, but gentled now by the chatelaine’s presence. “Just tell me, Mitsuhide. What the hell were you thinking?” His fist cocked back and struck the cell door. It shook from the impact. 

“Stop it, Hideyoshi. You’ll just hurt yourself.” Mitsuhide sighed. He had expected a visit from Hideyoshi - just not with his little mouse present. Not when his guard was already low. 

Hideyoshi’s voice shook. “Just shut up! Shut the hell up!”

In some ways, it was precious. That Hideyoshi cared so much, under his bluster, warmed Mitsuhide’s heart. He knew they shared a bond, as the right and left hand of the Oda, but he’d never thought Hide cared so much on a personal level. A misstep, he thought, to underestimate the affection this man held for his comrades.

Their eyes met through the bars of the cell. An unspoken communion between warriors. Mitsuhide had his weapons, and Hideyoshi had others. They could only use the talents given. 

After a long, silent moment Hide sighed. “I’m really pissed at you this time, though. I can’t believe how many times I’ve defended you, no matter what crap you pull. But mostly I’m pissed that you do this shit and you never even think to ask me for help.” There was real pain in his voice and a plea.

“I suppose this is the mental torture portion of my entertainment? You plan to bore me into spilling my secrets by blabbing nonsense?” Mitsuhide’s reply was sharp, defensive. A knee jerk reaction to his own heart being pulled by Hideyoshi’s shaken faith. He waved both the warlord and the chatelaine away. “Be gone, both of you. You shouldn’t be in a place like this.”

After a long silence, Hideyoshi stood. “This isn’t over, Mitsuhide. I’m going to find out what’s in your heart if I have to carve it from your damn chest.” 

“How romantic,” Mitsuhide sighed. “You should take notes, little mouse.”

The chatelaine blinked at him and then up at Hideyoshi.

“Come on.” Hide grabbed her hand and helped her up. “We should go back.” He turned to leave, stopping a few steps away to wait for the chatelaine.

She looked like she might resist. Mitsuhide urged her to go. “Leave me, little mouse. And do not come back.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “But first -” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

Mitsuhide leaned forward to catch her words, but instead, her hand darted through the bars to gently cup his face. Surprised, he froze in place long enough for her to press a kiss to his cheek. Her lips burned him like fire, froze him like ice. A pleasure in so great a contrast to the agony of his flesh that he couldn’t bear it.

“I’ll be waiting for you when you come back,” she whispered. And then she was gone. Down the corridor and lost to darkness, with Hideyoshi in tow.

Chapter Text

The days passed in a blur. Long stretches of boredom, punctuated by brutality and the occasional message from Kyubei. Mitsuhide endured one and looked forward to the other. He passed along requests to his vassal and he waited. 

His cheek still felt warm where she’d kissed him. 

In the dark hours, his mind wandered to fantasy. What life could be, had he chosen another path. His little mouse, a wife. Children. The worries of a warlord instead of those that weighed down an assassin and spy. It was a tempting dream. He could not help but plot what it would take to reach such a life, no matter how long the odds of success. Those thoughts got him through the worst nights, a distraction from his hunger and pain.

That was why, when Kyubei delivered his next message, Mitsuhide’s reply included a special request. A bellflower hairpin that once belonged to his mother. A sentimental thing, its only use to remind him of his family. It was among his meager possessions in Azuchi. And now it would serve as a promise.

He was still thinking about what that promise meant when the corridor lit up with the glow of a solitary candle. Footsteps hurried closer. Mitsuhide shook himself and stood, ready for this expected visitor.

A familiar figure stopped in front of his cell. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss the fine cut of his clothes, the costly embroidery, and the shine of gold. “It’s been some time, Lord Mitsuhide.” The man’s gaze took in Mitsuhide’s sorry state, lips quirking in an amused sneer.

Mitsuhide resisted the urge to smooth his stained, torn clothing. He simply nodded. “It has. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

“Am I to understand you’ve been expecting me?” His eyebrows rose in obvious surprise or perhaps, disbelief.

It was a wonder, Mitsuhide thought, that this fool survived so long as a spy when he couldn’t conceal his emotions. Though it could simply be that he did not see a need. This was a precarious place to be. Captured, his false allies might decide he wasn’t worth a rescue, and try to kill him instead. In that case, he was in a poor position to fight back. Not helpless … but far from ideal. It was his task now to prove he still had his uses. 

Mitsuhide smiled his crescent moon grin. “Of course. After all, it was you and your lord that conspired to put me in this dungeon.” He shrugged as if this was not important. “I’m sure your goal was to convince Nobunaga that I betrayed him to Kennyo. Leaving me few options - death, life as a fugitive or … service to your lord. And with the additional benefit of drawing attention away from my true purpose.” He sketched out their plot in language as simple as they were.

Fear flashed in the spies’ eyes. “H-how did you know?”

The only answer he received was a wider smile. Mitsuhide was not a man to reveal his secrets, especially not to fools.

“Well.” The man cleared his throat. “Now you know what will happen to you if you displease my lord.” 

“There was no need to waste the effort on my behalf.” 

As if reading from a badly written script, the spy replied. “You lingered too long with the Oda forces. Now there is no place for you here. Now it is time to prove your loyalty to his cause.” He tried to look threatening but the hard expression sat uneasily on his features.

“I have every intention of doing so.” Mitsuhide added a slight bow, gracious in his defeat.

The man fished a key from his pocket and threw it onto the ground in front of the cell, barely in reach. “Find your own way out.”

Mitsuhide knelt and picked up the key. “Your kindness is appreciated.”

“I will be returning ahead of you to my lord’s side. You may find us in -”

“Kyoto.” The silver-haired warlord stood, key in hand. His flat expression was unreadable, beyond a hint of distaste in the twist of his lips.

The spy flushed, his eyes going wide. “H-how did you know?”

“Dearest me,” chuckled Mitsuhide. “Did I get it right? I was guessing, of course.”

He took a step back from the cell. The candle flame danced along the walls and bars in his shaking hand. “I’ve heard rumors you’re some kind of demon. A satori. A kitsune.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not, are you?” He found Mitsuhide’s gaze and after a long moment of silence, turned away, afraid of what he saw there.

“Fear not,” Mitsuhide’s silken voice took on a darker tone. “Any powers I might possess will be used for the sole benefit of our lord.”

The man nodded but didn’t look back at the imprisoned warlord. “I will see you in Kyoto,” he said hoarsely. He practically ran for the exit, holding to only the barest shreds of dignity. 

A grown man afraid of campfire tales, Mitsuhide thought. Superstition lived in the hearts and minds of most, but some made it too easy a tool. 

He waited several breaths to make sure the spy was gone, and then unlocked his cell. His body ached from the long imprisonment, and his injuries were agonizing as he forced his arms and legs to work. This would be a long journey in so many ways. 

When Mitsuhide reached the door, he opened it as if he had every right to walk out of that place. Furtiveness would attract the eye, after all. He stepped out into a light rain. The cold prickled his skin. The drops of water slid down his face. He looked up and drank in the sight of a dark sky roiled with clouds. It was beautiful. Despite the need to hurry, he could only stand there for several heartbeats.

When he roused himself to move, Kyubei was waiting in an alley between two storage buildings. The sight of his vassal, still wearing a guard disguise, filled Mitsuhide with a sense of gratitude. There were few people in this world that could be counted on, but Kyubei was always one of them. 

“This way, my lord. We need to get you ready for your journey,” Kyubei said quietly. His intent gaze took in the state of Mitsuhide’s clothes, his wounds, and general condition. “You won’t make it far looking like a fugitive.”

“Did you bring it?” 

Kyubei nodded and tugged a silver and blue hairpin from his bag, just enough to show the folded edge of the gemstone flower at the top. “I still think it would be best if you let me deliver these. You should be on your way - sooner, not later. My lord.”

“I do not disagree.” Mitsuhide gave his vassal a wry smile. “But some things must be done oneself. If I never see -” he stopped himself. It was not like him to share the interior of his heart with anyone. “She deserves a goodbye from me in person. I am afraid this is one task you cannot do, Kyubei.”

His vassal nodded. “Then we should hurry. Your absence will be noted at the next guard change. We have, perhaps an hour.”

The two of them ducked into a storage building. The middle had been cleared out, and a large wooden tub took up the space. It was full of water. 

Mitsuhide quickly stripped off his filthy clothes while Kyubei filled a bucket from the tub.

“It’s not warmed, my lord. It would have drawn too much attention,” his vassal apologized. Then upended the bucket over Mitushide’s head. 

Wet and shivering, it took several more buckets of water and some determined scrubbing to leave the kitsune warlord looking, and smelling, human again. Satisfied, he dressed and then sat still as Kyubei cleaned and bandaged his wounds.

His vassal worked with deft hands, having treated injuries as bad, and worse, many times before. Kyubei often treated wounded spies, as they could not officially seek treatment. It would reveal their work and that could not be. 

“When I am gone, be cautious Kyubei. Keep your head low, and let the Oda forces do as they please in my manor. I trust there is nothing left for them to find?”

“No, my lord. Not a scrap.”

“Good. I do not want you caught up in this. You are nothing and no one in Azuchi - let it remain that way until my work is done.”

Kyubei glanced up at him, and Mitsuhide was surprised to see pity in his dark eyed gaze. “And then?”

Mitsuhide looked away, refusing to acknowledge what he saw. “After? Then return home. I have arranged for funds to be routed to your family. Wealth that cannot be traced to me. You will be well rewarded.” 

“That is not what I meant, my lord.” His vassal’s tone was reproving. 

“And yet, that is the answer you have. Also,” Mitsuhide stopped, thoughtful. “Please watch her. My little one. See that she is safe until she returns home.”

Kyubei did not reply, forcing Mitsuhide to look at him again. 

“That was an order, not a request.”

“My lord. If you are not able, I will do as you ask. I would have watched over her, regardless.”

Had Mitsuhide been another man, he would have embraced Kyubei. Yet he was only himself, and a kitsune’s affections were cautiously given. Instead, he squeezed his vassal’s hand with his own bandaged one.

Kyubei squeezed back before letting go. He blinked a few times and wiped his face. “Go now, my lord. Quickly.”

The alarm bells began to clang. Mitsuhide’s time was running out.

Chapter Text

Her window was dark. Mitsuhide considered that she might not be there. With the alarm, it was possible that Nobunaga or one of the warlords had taken her someplace else. If so, this errand was a failure. He could only leave the hairpin for her to find. No last moments together. No final goodbye. He ignored the way that thought made his heart clench. It was another sacrifice he would make on the altar of his ideals.

The window opened with little effort. The room beyond was lost in shadow. Mitsuhide peered inside, but could make out only vague shapes. 

“M-mitsuhide?” Her voice quavered, loud in the silence.

He smiled. Her voice was like a balm to his heart. He had missed it so. “I am sorry if the alarm woke you, little one. But you know, it isn’t good to sit here in the dark. You should have lit a lantern.”

His little mouse stood and lifted her hand toward him. Her eyes were wide and dark in the lightless night. 

Mitsuhide could see the doubt in her expression. The uncertainty. “You haven’t fallen asleep and you’re not dreaming,” he chuckled. “I am here and I am real.”

“It really is you!” She closed the distance to the window with quick steps. “Only you could read my mind so perfectly.” Her lips curved in a joyful smile and her eyes were wet with tears.

Mitsuhide climbed over the sill and sat on it. He beckoned her closer and when she stepped in arms’ reach, he swept her into an embrace. It felt so good to hold his little one again. She was warm and soft, and smelled sweet. The way she pressed herself to his chest, clinging to him as if she might never let go, made his heart pound. I could never tire of this, he thought. Having her close was like light and air. He had not realized until her, he was not truly alive.

With his face nuzzled in her hair, he sighed. “This is a much warmer welcome than I expected. Did you miss me that much?”

She leaned back from him, her gaze seeking his. “That’s not important right now. There are bigger issues to discuss. Like your jail break tonight.” Her frown was precious. The way she wrinkled her brow. 

It was hard not to simply kiss her, but Mitsuhide felt that if he did, he might never stop. “Oh? You heard about that already?” He tried to tease but the words felt flat. Hollow.

His little mouse smiled back at him. “The alarm bells. Y-you might have missed them.” And then her tears broke free. Embarrassed and trying to hold it together, she rubbed her face with the back of her hand. 

Mitsuhide stopped her. “No - don’t scrub at them like that. Here.” He gently wiped her tears away with bandaged fingertips. It seemed he always made her cry whether he intended to or not. He wanted to promise her that one day, he’d give her so much to smile about that she’d never cry again. But those kinds of promises were made by lovesick fools. Meaningless and easily broken. All he could promise was more partings like these, more pain. 

He looked at her face. Eyes red. Cheeks pale. “You should tell me to leave. Call the guards. I am a traitor - and an escaped prisoner. You should want nothing to do with me.”

She shook her head. “Never. Besides, I don’t need to call anyone. I know self defense. Remember?” Her lips curled up in a half smile, remembering their lessons together. “Anyway, I know something else too.” She poked his chest with her finger. “I don’t need to protect myself from you because I know what you’re up to.”

“Oh?” Mitsuhide didn’t try to hide his expression of surprise. Had she somehow divined his mission? 

“There’s some ideal you’re fighting for. Something so important to you that you’ll play the villain to see it through.” She searched his face, but Mitsuhide gave nothing else away. “I may not know what it is, but I believe in it. I believe in you.”

Her trust was overwhelming. For a heartbeat, he considered telling her the whole truth. But no. It was not her burden to carry. He was glad she had not figured him out. “You are such a simple soul, my lo-little mouse. To say such things. It is almost admirable.” He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a breath. “You don’t have to tell me what your ideal is, Mitsu. I am patient. But one day - “ She looked at him again. “Share your burdens with me.”

Her words brought a smile to his lips. One he couldn’t have denied had he tried. She had a way of surprising him that made his chest feel tight and his body warm. “I will think about it.”

The sound of footsteps broke Mitsuhide’s reverie. No matter what he would wish, time was limited. He pulled the hairpin from his pocket and held it out to the chatelaine. 

“W-what’s this?”

“It’s for you.” He carefully opened the petals, watching the way the blue gemstones caught the meager light. It was a gift fit for a princess. His princess. He tucked it into the messy bun at the back of her head. 

“A gift?” She reached her hand back to cup the ornament.

Mitsuhide nodded. “A farewell gift.” He brushed her cheek with his bandaged fingertip. “It suits you. Just as I knew it would.”

She grabbed his hand, careful of his wounds. “Mitsu … you didn’t come to my room tonight, risking danger and death, just to give me this, did you?”

He wanted to tell her it was to remember him by when she went home. And that it was his oath as well. To see her again in this life or another. It was the only true promise he could make. But his throat would not obey him. It locked around the words. He coughed. “N-no. The gift was an afterthought. I only came to tease you one last time.”

The smile he gave her hurt more than his split lips. 

She looked up at him, speechless. 

Though it was a fool thing to do, Mitsuhide could not help himself. He tilted his face and leaned forward, catching her lips with his. He poured all his longing into that touch. All his desire and love. And he felt her return it. She opened for him, heart and soul. Tongues twined, hands touching, stroking, hips pressed to hips. 

I would die for this, Mitsuhide thought. But there was more than his life at stake. He forced himself to pull back before he fell any deeper into her. “Th-that is all I have for you this time, little one.”

“And the next?” Her voice was barely a whisper, breathless and desperate. 

For that, he had no answer. This life or another, he promised her silently, and turned away.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide hoped to reach the forest without incident. Killing a vassal or guard would be clumsy of him. Thankfully, the rain and darkness were his allies. The searching guards traveled in tight groups, clustered around their sputtering torches, huddling under the eaves of buildings. They never even got close. Confident he’d made a clean break, he covered the last patch of open ground between Azuchi and the treeline.

He ducked under the low-hanging treeboughs. His horse would be closeby, and with that, his final goodbye to Azuchi. The thought was surprisingly painful. Sharp-edged. Mitsuhide turned to look one last time at the castle. His little mouse was there. His … friends. 

Something moved in the shadows to his right. Graceful, predatory. Masamune stepped out into the dim, rain-soaked night. His smile was bright and sharp as the bared edge of his blade. He took Mitsuhide in with one, narrowed eye. “I see the dungeons did a number on you.”

“… Masamune …” Mitsuhide straightened, brushing wet hair from his face with bandaged fingers. This was not a fight he would have chosen, but it seemed the gods had mischief in store for him. “How did you know I would take this route? It’s off the beaten path.”

The one-eyed tiger shrugged. “That’s probably why I picked it. Just followed my instincts. That works better than trying to second guess you.”

“Heh. I guess I can’t outsmart someone that’s not working off their intelligence.” Mitsuhide pulled his sword from the sheathe. He sidestepped the other warlord, circling him.

Masamune turned, following Mitsuhide with his eyes. “I suppose it’s not gonna matter if I ask you anything. You won’t answer me.” 

To Mitsuhide, his old ally sounded reluctant, unusual for the impulsive warlord. He would jump into most fights just to see if he could win. It made him realize just how much this one gambit cost him. Though he said he didn’t mind being seen as a villain, it was … uncomfortable to acknowledge how close he was to these men. His partners in pursuing the Oda vision of unification. The sacrifice was worth it. It was. Mitsuhide gave Masamune a nod.

“Then I guess there’s nothing left but to fight.” No sooner the words left the tiger’s lips than he leapt at Mitsuhide. His blade cut through the gentle rain, drops pearling on the steel like tears. The strike held no mercy in it, no hesitation.

Mitsuhide knew this was how Masamune showed him respect. A fallen ally, now an enemy. One due his utmost effort to destroy. He would not hold back. The kitsune warlord stepped to the side and brought his own blade up in an arc, flinging rain toward his opponent. A distraction, enough that Masa did not move to a second strike. It gave Mitsuhide an opening.

He kicked out, taking the tiger in the chest, almost staggering him. “Clear the path,” Mitsuhide hissed. He knew Masamune would not, but he couldn’t help but ask. He did not want to kill this man. It was, he told himself, because Nobunaga would need such generals in the days to come. And not at all that he would miss the tea and meals, the brash advice, and the laughter of his old ally.

“Never.” Masamune’s smile was all teeth. He launched himself toward Mitsuhide in a flurry of motion, cutting down with his blade in a powerful overhand strike. 

The kitsune met his rage with icy precision. He fought with exact movements. Expending a minimum of energy to defend himself. It was a battle between fire and frost. Frenzied blows met composed resistance as they wove between trees and stones. The mud was Mitsuhide’s enemy and ally in this deadly dance. It slowed him, providing an unsteady footing, but it was worse for Masamune, with his greater bulk and momentum.

Battles were won or lost on such small advantages. Mitsuhide used the sliding momentum to dodge, almost getting his foot stuck as he leapt out of Masamune’s reach. The one-eyed tiger wasn’t so lucky. The mud sucked at his feet, and he had to spend a moment freeing himself before advancing on Mitsuhide again.

“Heh … if you’re this spry,” Masamune said between breaths, “I’m beginning to think they didn’t torture you enough.”

“You need cunning … not strength to-to defeat a wild beast,” Mitsuhide panted. His lungs burned from the intensity of this fight. He knew he’d have to end this quickly. Weeks of starvation and torture left him lacking the strength and stamina to keep up with Masamune. No matter what he might say, he knew wits only got one so far in a sword fight.

But then, Masamune knew that too. Mitsuhide suppressed a smile as he gave in to his pain and exhaustion. He let himself drag, movements sluggish. His breath rasped in the night air, sending little plumes of white into the rain. 

Confident now of victory, Masamune’s lips turned up in a feral smile, teeth bare and glistening. “I’ll put you out of your misery.” He raised his blade for an overhand strike. The sword came down with all the tiger’s might. 

Mitsuhide got his own blade up to block. The scream of metal on metal tore through the trees as Mitsuhide’s sword began to warp and bend. It would shatter under this force, he thought. Yet this was how it had to be. Allow himself to be beaten, and in that moment hope for an opening. 

He let go and leapt back. The muscles of his legs shook as he landed. He had only a moment to try and catch his balance before Masamune lashed out again. The tiger’s kick swept Mitsuhide’s feet from under him. He fell back into the muck. His chest burned as he took a breath and coughed it out again.

Masamune shook his head, his blue eye a storm of emotions. There was anger there, triumph, regret. But mostly there was determination. “Mitsuhide, how did you think you could take me on after being starved and beaten?” He sounded almost gentle as he set himself for the final blow.

“Damn,” Mitsuhide gasped. He let his shoulders drop, leaving his chest and neck exposed.

The tiger paused. “It’s your choice, Mitsuhide. Let me take you back to face your crimes.” He took a breath, brows drawn down. “Or … make me your executioner.” He brought the sharp edge of his sword against the kitsune’s neck. It would take only a flick of the wrist to end Mitsuhide’s life here. 

Wide golden eyes shone, stretched wide in surprise. 

Masamune lowered his blade. It was only a handsbreadth, the merest relaxing of tension in his arms. Certain he had the kitsune warlord now, he was ready to offer life, a chance at mercy. The killing blow averted. This was the opening Mitsuhide planned for.

“I choose a third option.” He flung a handful of mud into Masamune’s one eye as he burst into motion. His aching legs gave him one last, desperate burst of speed as he flung himself away.

The tiger was no raw recruit. “You dirty bastard,” he roared. His sword flashed as he lunged forward, but the edge caught only air. He paused, pawing at his eye, wiping at the thick, sticky mud. It took only a few breaths to clear his vision, but that was enough.

Mitsuhide made it to his mount and hauled himself onto its back. “You … should know my methods … by now,” he replied, his words breathy with effort. He nudged the horse into motion, knowing he had only moments before Masamune would be after him again. He could only run now, and trust to the greater speed of this beast to beat the tiger.

“You even - even had a horse ready,” Masamune laughed. He watched Mitsuhide ride away, a look of chagrined respect on his face. 

“It is not so easy to catch this fox,” Mitsuhide gave an exhausted chuckle. It felt good, for a moment, to pretend he was free.

Chapter Text

Azuchi was lost to rain and fog sooner than Mitsuhide would have liked. His last sight of it was merely a smudge of shadow beyond the trees. But this was no time for nostalgia. He had to make haste. To arrive before Ashikaga could make another move, one he hadn’t already planned a counter to. 

His body ached with each movement in the saddle, and his heart tightened with every shaku he put between himself and his little mouse Azuchi. He could not help but remember the way she tasted, kissing her in the window. Her warm lips. The sweet smell of her skin. 

Rain drops streaked his cheeks like tears. The image of her watching him leave, his bellflower bobbing in her hair, was seared into his mind. It hurt to remember, but it hurt more to try and forget. He had to succeed in removing Ashikaga. Else all this would be for nothing.

Mitsuhide rode through the night and into the next day. The morning sun warmed his cold skin and dried his clothes. The comfort was dangerous though. The path ahead disappeared in long, slow blinks. Shuttered behind eyelids heavy with fatigue.

“Something to eat,” he mumbled to himself. That would keep him moving a bit longer. He reached back to rummage in his bag and found a wax-paper package. Mitsuhide opened it with one hand. It was full of little rice crackers. Bits of crushed spices dotted the tops. “Kyubei. You bastard.”

Of all the things to pack - these - had his vassal asked the chatelaine to make them, knowing? Or had he saved them back? Mitsuhide put one in his mouth, savoring. Despite his protestations of a lack of taste, his tongue worked just fine. Only, he’d left any preference for food behind, prizing efficiency and practicality over flavor. What did it matter how well he liked a food, so long as it kept him alive?

But … he indulged this one preference, just this one time. 

Mitsuhide arrived in Kyoto as the sun set. The city sparkled with the light of a thousand lanterns. Such a beautiful, treacherous place. A perfect setting for this final act in his design. He had only to prove himself to Ashikaga and then … well, the teeth of this trap would close. 

The little inn he stopped at didn’t even ask for a name. Mitsuhide paid for a bath and a room, staying just long enough to make himself presentable. He washed in cold water, rinsed and dried his hair. Wrapped his wounds. His body shook, but he stilled it. There was no time to be weak. No time to rest.

It was a costume of another sort he put on as he changed from his mud-spattered travel clothes. The stiff, clean fabric of his kimono settled against his skin. He was Akechi, traitor, the double-edged sword, and valued pawn. Cold eyes. A heart of ice. Hands made to spill blood. A man who did what must be done, no matter the cost. 

A few people watched him as he left, weighing his fine clothing and full bags against the presence of the sword at his hip. The kitsune warlord had only to give them a golden-eyed glance to see them turn away. 

Yoshiaki’s manor was easy to find. Guarded by loud mouthed Imagawa men and stumble-drunk rogues, opulent but tasteless, and sitting just outside the influential districts just as Ashikaga sat outside the bounds of real power. Mitsuhide smirked at the guards as they let him pass. Pathetic. 

The smell of sake and vinegar grew stronger as Mitsuhide passed into the main hall. Yoshimoto was the first to meet his gaze. A faded flower, thorns spent. Defeat was written in his face, and disgust, covered by thinly veiled courtesy. Another man was there too, drinking, his seat a place of honor. 

Motonari Mouri, Mitsuhide thought. Both dead men, and yet somehow they were here. He gave them his crescent moon smile. One that said if death could come for them once, then it would find them again. But his eyes lingered on these two for only a heartbeat. His quarry sat apart. Sake in hand, posture indolent. As if all were beneath even his barest interest. 

Mitsuhide bowed low. White fabric pooled on the floor around the silvered crown of his hair. The ends of his scarf trailed behind him, colorful tails. “My liege …”

On the dais, Yoshiaki smiled.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide’s days were long and the sleepless nights were longer. Though Yoshiaki depended on him to put together the details of this final strike against Nobunaga, the shogun did not trust him. There were eyes on him, always. And people listening. Nowhere was private. He dare not send any missives to his people in Kyoto lest he reveal them to Yoshiaki.

There was no room in this plot for even the slightest slip in his character. Traitor and villain, trickster kitsune. Of course, this meant there was no time to rest. Mitsuhide worked on his own to see this plot to its conclusion. His tired body protested, and his wounds pained him almost constantly. A choir of spilled blood, bruised flesh, and aching bones. But he had only to make it through one more day and night. Then all would be settled.

The knowledge lent Mitsuhide a sense of peace as he went about his work. Today he sat hidden in the shadows on a nearby building, watching the entrance to Honno-ji. The Oda would arrive soon, he knew. He had only to mark their presence and then it was back to Ashikaga to make the final plans. Mitsuhide allowed himself to rest back against the building, still and watchful. A lesser man might have fallen to sleep - and even one with the kitsune warlord’s will might be forgiven for closing his eyes during the wait. But he did not.

It did not take long for his attention to be rewarded. A small troop of men in plain clothing arrived first - clearly warriors - swords at their hip, their movements predatory. Those four were followed by three more. Two men, dressed as merchants. As if ever a merchant held his head so high or looked out at the world with such confidence. 

Nobunaga would never pass as a mere merchant, no matter his clothing, Mitsuhide thought. He could not let go the arrogance in his carnelian eyes. And the man beside him, though slouched as if he was old, could never be mistaken for other than a warlord. His amber-eyed gaze swept the courtyard, evaluating threats. His hand hovered near his hip as if ready to draw a sword that was not there.

“And this is why neither of you make good spies,” Mitsuhide chuckled to himself. One had to understand what could and couldn’t be changed about themselves to fit a role … that line of thought died in a gasp of surprise.

Mitsuhide’s hands went to his mouth, clamping down hard against lips that begged to call out to the last member of the Oda party. Her hair shone in the morning sunlight. Her clear-eyed gaze was bright, though today she wore no smile. He watched her lift a hand to tuck a strand of hair back into her bun. His eyes tracked her every movement, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks with each blink. 

Her beauty was a physical hurt. She pulled him as a magnet does iron filings. All he could think was why - why was she here? His little mouse was supposed to be safe in Azuchi. How had Kyubei let this happen? Mitsuhide’s heart thumped against his ribs in sudden panic. He had to protect her but - his mission - hot emotions tangled his cold logic, threatening to burn his plans to ash. 

Somehow, he held himself still until his little one passed into Honno-ji with the Oda. Then he fled. The rational part of his mind told him he must report to Ashikaga. Surely the shogun was watching and knew from other sources that Mitsuhide’s prediction was correct. Delay would bring suspicion. But his heart pulled him another way. He had to secure her safety. His little one. Beloved little mouse. He could not risk harm to her, not for this. Not for anything. 

Mitsuhide found an abandoned home in a nearby neighborhood. It was partially burned, but the courtyard was green and overgrown with flowers. There was a mossy stone bench in the lee of a collapsed wall. He sat there and put his head in his hands. 

His eyes felt hot and damp, but he refused to let them shed a single tear. He was the kitsune warlord, not some common love-drunk fool. There would be a way to keep her safe. He only needed to find it.

It took him several hours to plan out the various paths this could now take and to consider how best to prevent the turns that put his little one in danger. Then he set off into town to track down his contacts. It was time to take all risks, he thought. The time for caution had passed.

The sun was nearly set when he was done. There was little left that he could do, beyond returning to Yoshiaki. If the shogun had him followed, Mitsuhide was certain he could pass off his meetings and notes as part of his plot to take down Nobunaga. And if not, well. It wouldn’t matter after tonight.

He passed through the market on his way back to the Ashikaga estate, but his trek was interrupted. 

“Alright. I’ll be right here.” His little one’s voice, carrying over the marketplace chatter like distant bells. 

Mitsuhide’s eyes sought for her, his feet already moving toward the sound. And then he saw her. As beautiful as a goddess, she stood beside a shop watching the retreating form a monk. She held a cloth bag on one arm, the tops of vegetables sticking out from the top. 

Knowing her, she planned to cook for their little group tonight. Smart. The monks couldn’t be trusted - and even if they could, how easy it would be for a spy to slip some poison into the Oda dishes … he felt a little surge of pride. 

His little mouse leaned back against the building. She wore a tired smile. Mitsuhide knew he should continue on, but she was alone right now. It gave him the perfect opportunity to touch her kiss her hold her - no - to warn her. To get her to leave this place before she could be caught up in the violence Yoshiaki’s allies would rain down on the Oda forces.

He slipped around and into the alleyway. Quiet steps, unseen - then from the shadows, he reached for her. “You foolish little mouse -” Touching her skin was like handling fire. Warmth that threatened to consume him. 

Mitsuhide pulled her into a nearby storehouse, out of sight. “How clueless can you be,” he began. His emotions were threatening to get the better of him again. Anger with her for coming here, with himself for leaving her alone, regret, desire, grief, all churned in his heart. A bitter mix that still could not outweigh the sweetness he felt being near to her again. He inhaled her scent, and the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.

“I finally found you!” Her wide eyes were windows to her soul. A bright space so full of love that he might have had to look away, had she not thrown her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. “I missed you so much!”

His body hummed in response and for a breath, he wanted just this. To hold her. But he refused to give in. With every ounce of self control he could muster, Mitsuhide pushed her away. He met her gaze with all his feelings locked tight behind his traitor’s mask. “What do you think you’re doing in Kyoto?”

She smiled up at him. “I came after you.”

It took him a minute to respond. He had to swallow back all the words he wanted to say. Well, three of them anyhow. “… Did the Oda forces not reveal to you who I have sold my loyalty to?”

“Yeah, and I gotta say I don’t love your new boss.” Her light was undimmed by his dispassionate response.

He raised one perfect eyebrow. “Yet you followed me regardless?”

“Yes I did.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly, shoulders squared. “Probably for that same reason!”

Inside, Mitsuhide began to panic. This was not the conversation he should be having. She must be convinced to leave. He grunted. “Then it was my mistake trying to teach a mouse how to think. You’ve learned nothing, foolish creature.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care if I’m a foolish little mouse as long as I’m your foolish little mouse.” She poked a finger toward him to make her point, but he could see her eyes were wet with held tears. “And just like a mouse, n-not even the sight of a trap will s-stop me when I see what I want … Mitsuhide.”

The mask began to crack. “Did I not tell you to be good for me? Why? Why couldn’t you have - have just stayed behind?” His voice rasped painfully on the words, breath trembling. And then the dam broke. He pulled her to him, crushing his little one to his chest, arms wrapped around her. Holding her as a drowning man clung to a branch. 

All the words he wanted to say threatened to spill from his lips. An ocean of endearments and the promises of his heart. But a voice rescued him from this peril. The monk, calling from just outside. He pushed her away again, holding to her by the shoulders. “You must leave Kyoto. Now.” And then he let go, fleeing through the back door. 

Mitsuhide heard her call out to him, but he could not listen. Another word from her and his will might break. He’d come so close … so close to throwing it all away for her. Leave Nobunaga to his fate and let the world burn, if only he could hold her. Tell her the truths written across his heart. 

Only his ideals kept him moving away from his beloved little mouse. If she knew what she risked in pursuing him, she would not have come, he thought. His pure sweet girl could never accept the consequences of him abandoning this quest. The death and war and hardships that would follow allowing a man like Ashikaga to continue in his ambitions. 

With luck, she would heed his warning. But he knew her better than that. She would stay and see this through because she … she loved him. She loved him and she believed staying by his side was the right thing to do. No matter the danger to herself. 

They would both do what they believed was right. And so he could only do his best to see that she lived through tonight. Mitsuhide’s bloody path was laid out before him. There would be no turning away from it. Not for any of them.

Chapter Text

Evening fell in a grey hush. At least to Mitsuhide’s eyes, though his vision was grainy, blurred at the edges. He couldn’t trust the little spots of color that blossomed in halos around candles and lanterns. There were no such lights in this abandoned warehouse. Only what came from the setting sun, and the rising moon and stars. 

“My lord, our forces are in place. Scouts indicate the monks have retreated beyond Honno-ji - should we bring them in?”

“No. They are unimportant. What of the Oda vassals? Nobunaga? Any movement?” Mitsuhide’s voice betrayed nothing of his exhaustion. It sounded cold and distant in his ears. 

The warrior nodded. “What is your command?”

“Tell them to hold. I will give the signal to move in after full dark.” He watched the warrior run off to pass the message on to the Imagawa, and the rag-tag militia Yoshiaki had conscripted for this attack. 

Mitsuhide stood, stretching. His joints popped and his bones creaked. Every aging bruise felt fresh, sending a pulsing ache through his body. He made no sound as he forced himself to prepare for the coming fight. There were so many variables. So many points where it could all fall apart. 

Outside, the grey faded to a dark blue, the depth swimming with tiny white stars. The moon sat above the horizon, fat and round and full. Men in armor whispered in alleyways and shadows, voices lost in the cold night breeze. There were no other sounds. No chirping crickets or hunting owls. 

Mitsuhide left his warehouse, signaling to the men that now, now it was time. He drew his sword, stilling the trembling of his hands. Just a little more. 

He rushed forward, silent as he covered the ground between himself and Honno-ji. Behind him, his troops also ran, their steps a wild drumbeat. The next few breaths were chaos. The flash of blades in moonlight, violent exhalation as men breathed their last, and the savage of shouts of men in blood-lust.

On the balcony above them, Mitsuhide made out a shape. Someone standing at the railing, looking down. Despite the darkness, he knew it was her. His little one. Watching. He had not wanted her to be here, but now, somehow, it felt right to him that she was. That she witness this moment.

The kitsune warlord avoided the door guards and the smattering of vassals between himself and the large inner chamber where he knew Nobunaga would make his stand. Behind him, Yoshiaki’s vassals crowded into the halls, keeping track of Mitsuhide’s movements to be certain he could not betray their lord. It might have made him laugh, if he had breath for it.

He heard more than saw Hideyoshi charge out to meet Yoshimoto and the Imagawa at the main doors of the temple. It was impossible not to recognize his voice, even in this pandemonium. That should hold most of the conscripts and mercenaries. Mitsuhide chanced a look back to make sure the shogun’s men were still following. They hadn’t lost any ground, and better, it seemed they’d summoned their lord now that victory was imminent.

“My liege! Nobunaga is this way,” Mitsuhide called, motioning Yoshiaki toward him. Then he turned back, leapt up the narrow stairway, and kicked in the door. 

His calculated melodramatics had the desired effect on everyone but Nobunaga. Yoshiaki’s vassals filed into the room, cocky and self assured. And the shogun himself followed. 

Mitsuhide’s gaze pulled toward the woman at Nobunaga’s side, but he refused to let them rest on her. He could see enough. She was safe. Unhurt. So far. The kitsune warlord forced his eyes to his target. “It’s been a while, Nobunaga.” 

There was nothing but confidence in those carnelian eyes as Nobunaga greeted him. 

Yoshiaki strode into the room, his soldiers moving aside to make way. “I hope the great fool of Owari is not too foolish to realize when he is bested.” 

“Oh? As opposed to you who was too foolish to realize all the times I called you an idiot to your face?” Nobunaga’s left brow rose as his lips turned up in a mocking grin.

“He’s trying to be funny, I see.” Yoshiaki’s mouth twisted with distaste as his vassals all gave a forced laugh. 

Mitsuhide kept his expression cold, and added his own polite chuckle to the shogun’s words. He had to hold to his role a while longer yet, no matter how plainly distasteful. He caught sight of his little mouse sticking out her tongue - and for a breath his laughter was genuine. Only she would make such a face at a shogun. Only she would have so little a care for her own safety. 

Finished with his failed word games, Ashikaga turned to Mitsuhide. “Go now and finish the job. Just … don’t get any blood on my robes.” He swept a hand over the fine embroidered silk, as if suddenly realizing battle was a messy affair.

“As you wish, your excellency.” Mitsuhide gave a slight bow. It gave him a moment to check his composure. It seemed there were no bounds to Yoshiaki’s arrogance nor his ridiculous demands. What a sad creature, he thought. To be so useless and to still be so certain of your own importance. 

He held his sword toward Nobunaga, preparing to strike. One of the Oda guards launched himself forward, intent on defending his lord. 

And as if Mitsuhide had scripted the moment himself, the other guard lunged, plunging his sword into the defender’s back. Revealing himself as the traitor embedded in the Oda forces, the hidden blade Mitsuhide’s spies had been unable to identify. How fortuitous. 

Dying, the guard turned to his friend, stumbling against him. “Why? Why -” did you kill me - the words died in a rattling breath.

The other guard shoved the body to the floor, his expression one of triumph. “I fooled you all! My life and my loyalty have always belonged to the shogun!” He turned to Nobunaga. “This is the end for you.”

The Ashikaga vassals pressed in close, grabbing Nobunaga’s arms and forcing him down in front of Yoshiaki. 

Mitsuhide surreptitiously watched his little one, making sure she stayed clear of the violence. She didn’t look afraid, even now. Just shocked and angry. Some of the soldiers grabbed her and held her down. Seeing them handle her like that made his jaw clench. If she had a single bruise, he thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his hilt tightly. 

“Mitsuhide,” Yoshiaki called. “Remove the Devil King’s head from his neck and offer it to me as a gift of your loyalty.” 

And now he had his opening. The moment he’d hoped this farce would provide. Mitsuhide smiled his knife-sharp smile. He advanced, the sharp edge of his sword gleaming in the pale moonlight. Then he struck. His blade bit into the fine, embroidered silk of the shogun’s clothes and parted the flesh of his chest and belly just as easily. But with Mitsuhide’s fading strength, the strike was not a killing blow.

Ashikaga stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. He held a hand to his stomach and then pulled it away, staring at the crimson smear in confusion.

“Dearest me,” Mitsuhide’s grin widened. His golden eyes shone. “How clumsy I am.” He lifted his sword for another attack. “I meant that to be a killing blow. It looks, well, it looks quite painful.” 

The shogun’s vassals flung themselves between Mitsuhide and Yoshiaki, ready to spend their lives to keep their lord safe. But they were too slow. 

Fighting through his fatigue, Mitsuhide dodged behind the flailing shogun and forced the man to his knees. He brought his sword to Ashikaga’s throat. “I wouldn’t make another move, were I you. It might startle me into cutting right through his throat.”

He could see behind the men, his little mouse standing up. She straightened her clothes and shot him a proud smile. It felt so good to see her look at him like that. As if he were a hero.

Yoshiaki trembled, though Mitsuhide could not be sure if it was fear or anger. “You - you can’t betray me! Not here! You’ve - you’ve gone mad!”

Mitsuhide laughed. “Well, you are right about one thing. I can’t betray you. I was never loyal to you.” He pressed his knee into the shogun’s back, forcing him to lean forward, into the sharp edge. “I am loyal to my ideals alone.”

Nobunaga began to laugh. “And that is why you are my left-hand.” He stood and straightened his clothes, sauntering over to where Mitsuhide held the shogun.

“My liege.” Mitsuhide nodded to him. 

“You base, vile, traitorous dog!” Yoshiaki’s voice was shaking. “D-don’t you know the penalty for laying a hand on me is ruin?” He turned his gaze to Nobunaga. “You may think you control things, you foul upstart, but I am still shogun! You will lose everything for this!”

“Oh, I think not. Nobunaga will retain his good standing with the court.” Mitsuhide tugged Ashikaga’s head back so that the shogun was forced to look up at him. “You see, it will be I, Mitsuhide Akechi - traitor - who is guilty of your murder.”

Nobunaga shook his head. “I should have known that was why you arranged this theater. You sly kitsune.” 

“That’s why you never told anyone what you were up to. So only you would be found guilty …” His little mouse spoke up from where she stood, just out of reach. Her expression was troubled. 

Mitsuhide met her gaze, wishing he could tell her how difficult it had been to hold to this path. How he’d wanted to share his burden with her, and yet, never wanted his misdeeds to sully her. How even now he wanted to put this behind him and take her away from here. But even if he could tell her these things, such wishes were meaningless.

“Are you saying you had this all planned? That you expected my messenger?” Yoshiaki swallowed carefully past the sharp edge of Mitsuhide’s sword. 

The kitsune warlord smiled down at him menacingly. 

“E-even if you kill me, none of you will survive. My army will sweep in here and slaughter all of you.”

Nobunaga glanced down from the balcony as if remembering something. The chatelaine’s gaze followed and even Mitshide found himself looking that direction. 

Out from the dark road, armor glinting coldly, there came a sound of a thousand men shouting.

“Wha- what is that,” Yoshiaki tried to turn himself to see.

Above the roar of voices, one stood out. “Is this where the traitor Mitsuhide Akechi has hidden?” 

“Masamune?” The chatelaine said softly, her eyes going wide.

Ashikaga sputtered. “You- you brought an army to Kyoto? How do you expect to get away with that? The court-”

“Will know that the Oda forces came here in search of that vile traitor, Akechi,” Nobunaga interrupted. “And if they happen across allies under attack, no one would blame them for offering assistance.” He smiled. “Now do you understand?”

Mitsuhide felt a moment of genuine respect for Nobunaga. He couldn’t have crafted a better response himself. He removed his sword from the shogun’s throat and kicked him forward. He was ready to be finished with this. “Now, your excellency, it is time for you to gracefully die.” 

His sword arced through the thin, cold air. And came down hard enough to part bone. But it was Ashikaga’s vassal that took the hit, leaping forward to use his body as a shield. What a bother, Mitsuhide thought. That such an arrogant ass could still hold sway over otherwise good men.

“Quickly, peasants! Guard me!” Yoshiaki crawled toward them, letting his men form a human wall.

Mitsuhide stepped forward, intent on finishing the job. The shogun could not leave here alive tonight. But he stopped, turning back to Nobunaga.

“Go after them,” Nobunaga urged.

“Yes - but first, the chatelaine -” he gestured toward his little mouse. “She should be taken somewhere safe-”

Nobunaga pushed her forward gently. “Go with Mitsuhide. You are ordered to stay by his side at all times.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Maybe I should hide instead of getting in Mitsuhide’s way?”

Mitsuhide nodded, glad she said something sensible when he was slow to respond. 

“You will obey.” The command was unmistakable. “Further, when the battle has ended you will bring Mitsuhide back to Azuchi.” He arched one dark eyebrow as if daring her to make him repeat himself.

She turned to Mitsuhide with a wicked smile. “Alright. You can count on me. I promise, I won’t ever leave Mitsuhide’s side again.” She reached out and took his hand, not seeming to mind the sticky, drying blood or the cold sweat on his skin. 

Mitsuhide was torn. These were words his heart yearned to hear and yet - this was not the time or the place. This was a battle and she, and she could not be at his side, where all swords would be turned against her. He tried to say so, to speak reason, but his throat would not let a word pass. 

“Your response,” Nobunaga pressed.

Her hand was so warm in his. Mitsuhide could not let go. It was too late for that. “If my lord commands it,” he said softly. The words were barely audible. And yet, he found himself smiling.

Chapter Text

The battle was brutal. In the uncertain light of flickering torches and flaming arrows, colors bled to grey. It was impossible to tell who struggled against whom. Men shouted, screamed, and died. Blood mixed with ash and others pushed forward to continue the struggle. Mitsuhide did his best to keep his little one from the thick of it, but there was no clear path.

He fought when they had to, his sword arm stronger than it had any right to be. His heart beat with ferocity. Not to win, but to protect. Mitsuhide did not note the faces of the men that fell to his blade, but part of him mourned the innocence his beloved lost with each death she witnessed.

Then out of the smoke, like a spirit, a shape took form. Beauty and grace out of place in the landscape of savage violence. Yoshimoto. 

Mitsuhide knew the leader of the Imagawa was here and yet … he’d hoped to avoid him. Yoshimoto’s quest for an honorable end was not a part of his plan, nor any concern if his. He respected the man’s desire to end his struggle even if he didn’t understand the feelings that motivated the young warlord. 

Yoshimoto didn’t even seem to notice Mitsuhide. His eyes found the chatelaine and fixed on her with an unexpected passion. “I was hoping I would meet you again in more pleasant circumstances.”

“Me too.” She stepped out from behind Mitsuhide, smiling. 

He felt a surge of irrational anger. A desire to lash out. He contained it, left it simmering behind his own smile. “The tides of battle have turned against you. I suggest you and your vassals stand down, Imagawa.”

Yoshimoto’s lips turned up in a ghost of a grin as he finally focused on Mitsuhide. “I am truly impressed by this plan of yours, Silver Kitsune. You have truly earned the sobriquet.” The flower of the Imagawa drew his sword anew, steel ringing clear of its sheath. “I thank you for the advice, but sadly … I cannot withdraw. That choice has never been mine.” His lips firmed into a thin line, his jaw hard. “Everything has led to this moment. The moment it all ends.”

Mitsuhide wan’t sure he could win against Yoshimoto. Not in his current state. And yet, fate had set his path here. Loss was not an option for him, any more than retreat for his opponent. He readied his blade.

Yoshimoto struck. 

This was nothing like the fight with Masamune. The one-eyed tiger was ferocious, single-minded, and bloodthirsty. With Yoshimoto, the battle was art. Each move, choreographed. Perfect. This was the strength of the Imagawa. Deadly beauty.

It took all of Mitsuhide’s skill to keep up. Predicting his opponent by understanding the steps of this dance. The rapid strikes shook his bones and sent tremors through his tired muscles. Yet he could sense in Yoshimoto the beginnings of an end. His eyes begged Mitsuhide to finish this fight. To give him a good death. 

Mitsuhide readied himself. There was no need to ask why. The Imagawa clan would never yield so long as Yoshimoto lived. The young warlord was a symbol. An excuse to fight on no matter the odds. If he fell … they would give up, finally. Mitsuhide knew Yoshimoto’s next move. It would be simple to change his defense to an offense. To slide his blade between Imagawa’s ribs. Straight through his heart. 

“No! You can’t” The chatelaine threw herself between the combatants. “Yoshimoto! Run! Live!” She turned to face Yoshimoto. “Go and live for yourself. Think of your family!”

She didn’t understand. Mitsuhide felt a pang of sadness for his little one. She was so vulnerable. So naive. His blade stopped misdwing and he lowered it to his side. 

“My … family?” Yoshimoto sounded as puzzled as Mitsuhide felt. 

She held a hand out to him, as if to touch his cheek. “Sasuke and Yukimura are still looking for you. Everyone in Echigo is waiting for you to come home.”

Mitsuhide felt a surge of jealousy. His precious little one, speaking so passionately to another man - even if only to convince him to live - stirred a poison in the kitsune warlord’s veins. 

“Yoshimoto … your life is precious. Too precious to throw away for bloodlines and clan responsibilities. It’s your one and only life.” The chatelaine put her hand atop Yoshimoto’s, her pale fingers brushing his ash and bloodstained grip.

“I -” 

Mitsuhide grabbed his little mouse by the arm, pulling her back, out of harms’ way. And out of Yoshimoto’s reach. “Are you shielding an enemy, little one?”

“He’s not an enemy,” she protested.

Both a true and untrue statement, Mitsuhide thought. He wanted to explain to her why the Imagawa warlord must die. But the look in her eyes … full of belief in him. Trust that Mitsuhide would never harm someone she called a friend. Though he knew - absolutely knew - that killing Yoshimoto was the wisest path, he found that he could not do so. 

Mitsuhide met Yoshimoto’s gaze over the top of the chatelaine’s head. An understanding passed between them. Neither wanted to be the man that made her cry. “You will go, Yoshimoto Imagawa. Take your vassals and leave.”

Yoshimoto nodded. “I will withdraw.” He gave an elegant bow which the chatelaine caught as she turned her head to face him.

As Yoshimoto sheathed his blade, the Imagawa vassals shouted in a mix of anger and disappointment. “If you will not fight,” they cried, “then we will die for the honor of the Imagawa tonight.” 

It seemed, Mitsuhide thought, that his mercy was misplaced. Regardless of what he would prefer, he did not think he could avoid slaughtering the fractious warriors of the fallen Imagawa. There would be tears from his little one later, he thought. But he could live with that as long as she was alive to cry them.

But before anyone could begin to fight again, Yoshimoto’s voice rang out. It lacked his usual soft cadence. Now it cracked with fierce anger. A heat that Mitsuhide had not thought the Imagawa warlord possessed. “There is no honor in death! Choosing to die here is a betrayal of all the ideals you claim to stand for.” In a quieter voice he added. “As I have only just realized.”

He leaned forward, far too close for Mitsuhide’s comfort, and spoke to the chatelaine. “I want to thank you. And … I hope we get the chance to meet again.”  Yoshimoto lifted a lock of the chatelaine’s hair and pressed it to his lips in farewell.

“And I do not.” Mitsuhide put himself between them again, pushing his little one away from the passionate eyes of this Imagawa upstart. He was beginning to regret not killing Yoshimoto. 

Yoshimoto smiled. “Be well.” Then he led his vassals out of the fight, rallying them around him with an aura of command that he had not shown before. They were soon lost in the chaos and darkness.

Mitsuhide scanned what he could of the battlefield. Most of the shogun’s forces were routed. Crushed between Masamune’s warriors and Hideyoshi’s defenses. He found a good position and waited for the fight to end. 

It was Hideyoshi that came to them. His face was splattered with blood and filth. His eyes were bright with victory. “It’s over. We won.”

Masamune’s troops were tying up survivors and putting out fire. The monks of Honno-ji were attending to the wounded and gathering the dead. It was, Mitsuhide thought, a better win than most. Even if his quarry survived. That only meant the hunt was not done. He had yet more to do.

Mitsuhide took a step toward Hideyoshi, intent on wrapping up this goodbye before Hideyoshi turned his mother-hen instincts full on. But his legs didn’t seem willing to move forward and his arms felt heavy as lead. He stood there feeling dumb and slow as Masamune approached alongside Nobunaga.

“Mitsu …” His little mouse clung to his arm, almost as if she knew the thoughts that raced through his mind.

“You’ve done well. All of you.” Nobunaga smiled as he approached. 

“Thank you my lord,” the three of them said in unison. 

Mitsuhide watched Masamune warily. It was entirely possible the one-eyed tiger still meant to fight him. “You took longer than I expected to catch up to me.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Masamune rested a hand on his hilt. A threat, though not an immediate one. “Pfft. I was late because Ieyasu and Mitsunari couldn’t stop squabbling over who would accompany me. I told ‘em they could keep each other company in Azuchi.” His one eye narrowed with anger. “You’re lucky I didn’t hand your ass to my troops after our little … chat … in the rain.”

“I am grateful,” Mitsuhide began. He had a witty comment to make. He was sure of it. But whatever it had been was gone. “I - I am grateful to you. To Nobunaga. And, and to Hideyoshi.” He put an arm around his little one’s shoulders. “And to you.” He couldn’t help the way he leaned toward her, supporting himself.

Hideyoshi poked a finger in his chest. “You can keep your ‘thank you’ until you and I are done, Mitsuhide!”

There were words Mitsuhide wanted to say. They tumbled, disorganized through his tired mind. He tried to marshal them to order. He was the kitsune warlord - and this was not the time to fall. Not. Yet.

Hideyoshi took his silence as offense and grabbed the front of his clothes, jerking him violently forward. 

Mitsuhide felt his beloved’s warmth retreat from him and heard her make a worried sound.

“I hope you’re ready. I’ve got hundreds of questions and you are going to answer ever single one!” Hideyoshi shook him. 

“Can’t it wait … until … tomorrow?” Mitsuhide heard his voice as if it came from a long way off. He was in a tunnel. In a hole in the ground. Hideyoshi’s face floated in the light above him. 

“What? And give you the chance to escape?” He shook Mitsuhide again. “You’re not getting out of this.”

Mtisuhide felt his lips turn up in a smile. “It’s not that. I - I’m just … rather … tired.” And then Hideyoshi’s face was gone. There was only the darkness, silent and heavy. He didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide swam up towards the light. His eyelids opened, heavy as stones. He was in a room, on a futon. A lantern sat nearby, throwing off a warm glow. His bloodstained clothes were gone, replaced by a clean nightrobe. And someone had freshly bandaged his wounds. Hideyoshi? 

No. The mother-hen wasn’t there, but his little mouse sat on the floor beside him, her chin resting against her chest. Her eyes moved under shuttered lashes. Her breath came in little gasps. A nightmare, perhaps? Not surprising given the battle she’d survived. 

“What hells I have put you through,” he said softly. His mouth was so dry the words were barely a whisper. Still, it was enough to jolt his beauty awake. 

She turned, eyes wide and damp with the remnants of her tears. “Mitsuhide? You’re awake?” Her smile at his nod was like the sun. Without being asked, she put a cup to his lips and helped him drink.

The water slid down his throat, a cool burn against smoke-raw flesh. He pushed the cup away and sighed. “It seems I passed out in the middle of our discussion. Have I slept for long?”

“Not long, no. We’re still in Honno-ji. Hideyoshi helped me put you to bed.” Her gaze was heavy with worry. 

Mitsuhide chuckled, which almost turned into a cough. “After all his rage, he still tucked me in? It seems he will be a mother hen to the end.”

This brought a smile to her face. She looked down, her hair falling forward to hide her laugh. “He kept lecturing me on how to bandage you properly and wouldn’t leave until you were clean, dressed, and in bed.”

He sat up, tucking her hair back from her face so that he could see her better. She was beautiful. It almost hurt to be so close to her again, after telling himself he could let her go. 

“You should lay back down. Everyone else is still asleep. The sun won’t be up for a few hours yet.”

“Mmm. If I close my eyes, I won’t be able to see you.” His fingertips moved from her hair to her cheek. Soft skin. Warm. There was such joy in these simple touches.

His little mouse blushed. 

“I am so glad you are unharmed. I cannot tell you how worried I was,” he said earnestly.

She tried to blink her tears away before they could fall, but they escaped to trickle down her cheeks.

“You still cry so easily.” Mitsuhide wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. 

“Only around you …”

He wished that was not true. But he couldn’t deny being the source of her tears. Were he a more romantic man, he thought, he would promise her only joy. He would kiss the tears from her face and swear to never make her cry again. But that would be a lie. He had no sweet words, only the ache in his chest.

She took his hand, her warm fingers stroking his bruised knuckles gently. “You are so - so reckless! Did you even sleep since you escaped the dungeon in Azuchi? Or stop to eat?” 

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “I took sufficient care of myself to finish my mission.”

“Oh?” She met his gaze, her eyes red rimmed from her anxiety and sleepless nights following after him. “People who take sufficient care of themselves don’t pass out mid-conversation.”

He hadn’t considered how his peril might hurt her. That she would worry for him like this. He didn’t have a ready reply. 

She took a deep, shaky breath. “You knew what the shogun planned didn’t you? Before anyone else? But … why didn’t you tell Nobunaga at least? Or warn Hideyoshi?”

“Little one.” His gentle tone quieted her. “It wasn’t that kind of fight. Nobunaga is not a man to strike from the shadows. Neither is Hideyoshi.” He smiled. “And if they tried to battle Ashikaga on their terms, he would have won.”

“So you took it all on yourself? Alone?”

“That is -”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you lie to me, I will leave you here alone in this room for the rest of the night.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I can see that you’ve learned my lessons well. Fine.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t tell anyone what I knew, even if I could trust them to let me handle this in my own way. The Oda forces had an infiltrator. A spy close enough to Nobunaga to know the contents of our private meetings. The list of suspects was short but … I could not be certain who was involved or if I’d identified them all. So it made more sense to simply move forward with my plans on my own.”

“So you really thought you couldn’t talk to anyone?” His little mouse raised an eyebrow. “You could have told Hideyoshi when he came to visit you in the dungeon. There weren’t any spies around then.”

Mitsuhide remembered that visit well. Hideyoshi’s pain at betrayal. His anger. He wore his emotions openly, and his actions followed suit. “No … Hideyoshi is terrible with subterfuge. He is a man of honesty and people love him for that. He must remain in the light. And the light suits him well.”

She watched him with wide-eyes, clearly thinking over his reply. “And there was never a moment you might have had Nobunaga alone? At least to tell him your plans?”

“Ah. Perhaps I could have,” Mitushide nodded. “But I chose not to. Nobunaga has bloodied his hands time and again. Gone to great lengths for his dreams of unification.” He tapped a finger to his chest. “But it was my actions at Enryaku-ji that earned him the sobriquet ‘Devil King’. I did not want to see that happen again. I will bear the cost of my own actions.”

“Well, but what about -”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No, there is no one I would share the burden with. And none suited to this work, regardless.” He smiled and gave a slight shrug. He thought of explaining further, but his eyelids felt so heavy and his body was aching to lie down again.

His little mouse looked as if she might cry again. “But you’ve sacrificed everything. For what?”

“Peace.” He sighed. “Before Nobunaga, hundreds of petty warlords fought and wasted the lives of their vassals for nothing but pride. People starved. Life was a coin to be spent, and lower class lives were spent cheaply.” Mitsuhide did not want to tell her what it looked like to clear the streets of bodies dead from starvation. Nor to ride through towns where the only men left were ancient and toothless or still suckling because the rest had died in war. He fixed his gaze on her. “That kind of chaos must never be allowed to happen again.”

She leaned forward to rest her head on his chest. “I - I think I understand.”

He settled an arm around her, taking comfort from her touch. “Little one … I am not a kind man or a good one. I do these things for my own purposes. Don’t think of this as a noble sacrifice.” 

“Mmm, you say that but … you won’t even get to see this peace you’re working for. You will die first. And people will curse your name. Even your friends. No one will know what you did. That sounds pretty noble to me.”

“If you say so, little mouse.” He kissed the top of her head. Her words were so sweet. Just as she was. He wished they were true. Mitsuhide settled his chin atop her head and pulled her closer. “You know. When I left Azuchi, I wanted to say goodbye to you. You have a home to return to. A life that is safe and good. But I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t able to lie to my own heart. There is no one I treasure more …” Speaking the truth to her felt right. Like freedom after a lifetime in shackles, yet he could barely get the words out.

She looked up at him, nestled in his arms as if she belonged there.

Mitsuhide wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back. “I cannot change who I am and I would not. Yet, despite all my sins … my faults … I want you - I want you to stay with me.” The words tumbled from his lips, heedless of the consequences.

His little one gave him a slow, warm smile. It lit her from within, and somehow made her even more beautiful. “I never want to leave you Mitsuhide. I don’t want to be apart.”

“I hope you know, it is too late for you now that you’ve said this. I won’t let you go again.” He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss so deep he felt it in his soul. There was no release from a love like this, he knew, and yet, he didn’t want to be released. He wanted more.

When he broke the kiss, she was pink cheeked, lips red and swollen. A look that stirred him and made his aching body want more than it could handle. He could see the desire in her heavy-lidded gaze too.

“Y-you should probably … get some rest,” she said unconvincingly.

“I should,” he nodded, and kissed her again. His hand slid beneath her kimono, caressing her skin lightly. He wanted to pull the light fabric from her shoulders. To see her … and worship every inch of her with kisses. He might have, had his vision not burst with little sparkling lights, darkness framing the edges. Mitsuhide released her regretfully.

She pulled away from him with great reluctance, slowly adjusting her clothes. “You ah, you need to- to recover.”

“I would sleep better with you beside me.” He wasn’t at all sure he would but he wanted her close. Even if it was a sweet self torment.

His little one smiled. “I told you I wouldn’t leave your side.”

Mitsuhide scooted over and she snuggled in beside him. It was as wonderful - and terrible - as he’d feared. He could feel every inch of her pressed tight to him. The thin layer of cloth did nothing to hide her curves or her softness. 

“I love you,” she told him sleepily.

“I know.” He kissed the edge of her ear. “I love you too.”

Sleep took him by surprise, hidden in the rhythmic breath and comforting warmth of his love.

Chapter Text

Waking to the feel of his little one in his arms was, Mitsuhide reflected, the single best way to wake. His body still hurt from a myriad of wounds and he still felt a tiredness that was bone deep. But her warmth and the steady sound of her sleeping breath lessened all pain. 

He intended to lay there and just enjoy their closeness, but his hands could not help stroking her. Light touches on her belly and sides. Stroking her arms down to her hands. She was all softness and beauty as she made little sounds of pleasure in her sleep. Smiling, Mitsuhide pressed light kisses to the back of her neck and shoulders. 

His little mouse took a sharp breath as his lips found an especially sensitive spot under her ear. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy lidded with desire. She turned to face him, pulling herself close.

Mitsuhide started to say good morning, but she caught his lips in a kiss. It was sweet and slow. Full of yearning and the promise of satisfaction. It would have been so easy to give himself up to it. To her.

Instead, he broke the kiss and took a breath to steady himself. “It is late morning. We need to get up.”

She made an adorable hiss of frustration and then nodded. “Fine. But I’m continuing this discussion with you later.” Then she scooted out from the covers to get dressed.

They were both mostly ready when the door to the room slammed open to reveal a red-faced Hideyoshi. While Mitsuhide had been expecting his arrival, he hadn’t imagined it would begin quite like this. 

“I’m coming in,” Hideyoshi shouted, already stepping into the room.

“We can see that. Could you not shout it?” Mitsuhide quirked an eyebrow. 

Hideyoshi’s eyes traveled around the room, clearly trying to determine what he had - and hadn’t - walked in on. Satisfied, he approached Mitsuhide. “Hold out your hand, you slippery-tongued devil.”

“May I hear what i’m being admonished for first?” Mitsuhide wondered what crime it was that Hideyoshi sought to punish today. And what he intended to do. Slap his hand? Break his fingers? Neither seemed quite … mother-hennish enough. 

“No.” Hideyoshi put a fist to his hip. “Now put out your hand.”

The chatelaine watched from the other side of the room. She looked a bit worried.

Mitsuhide was more curious that afraid. Hideyoshi wasn’t often able to confound him but he’d managed this morning. Mitsuhide stuck his hand out. “Very we-” His words caught in his throat as a loop of rope tightened over his wrist. “Ahem. Hideyoshi?”

The other end of the rope was attached to a similar loop around Hideyoshi’s wrist. With a tug, he brought their hands together and then looked at Mitsuhide with a grim smile.

The kitsune warlord had been bound many times in his life. With rope. With iron shackles. In a cage. By need and desperation. But he’d never been tied hand to hand with someone quite like this. “And the purpose of this would be …”

“It’s so you don’t run off again.” Hideyoshi brought their bound hands up, gesturing with them. “And in case you’re wondering, we will stay tied like this until we reach Azuchi.”

The chatelaine’s eyes went wide. Not with surprise, but with rustration. Mitsuhide didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what went through her thoughts right then. Afterall, he dearly wanted to finish their ‘conversation’ too, and preferably without Hideyoshi’s observation or participation.

“Spare me this emotional nonsense, Hideyoshi. I swear to every god in existence that I have no intention of running again. Now. Untie me.” 

Hideyoshi chuckled. “Nice try. But I know you don’t believe in any of those gods. And even if you did, I wouldn’t believe you. You’re just going to have to put up with it, just like me.”

“Are you saying you don’t like being tied to me?” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but tease. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Pffft. After the suffering you’ve put us all through, you should feel bad.” Hideyoshi tugged Mitsuhide forward.

“Hey!” The chatelaine approached the two men as one might come close to growling dogs. Cautiously, but with the intent of getting in the middle of the conflict.

Hideyoshi ignored her protest, glowering at Mitsuhide. “Lord Nobunaga told me everything you were up to.”

“Did he?” Mitsuhide’s smile widened. He doubted even Nobunaga knew the full scope or even guessed at some of his machinations.

“Yeah. And what I want to know is why you think you have to do everything on your own?” Hideyoshi pressed his face close enough to kiss. 

It was, Mitsuhide decided, significantly less pleasant than his little mouse. “I do what is efficient.”

“That - exactly that - is what makes me crazy.” Hideyoshi’s hands darted forward and grabbed Mitsuhide’s collar, lifting him off his feet.

Mitsuhide wanted to ask him why this sort of thing had to be repeated so often. It was unpleasant and mussed his clothes. He refused to be shaken by it though. “You may hit me now. Not only will it soothe your temper, I expect it to be very amusing when I fall and you fall with me.”

“Like punching you would make up for anything!” Though Hideyoshi did look tempted by the offer. “I’m going to do something even worse. I’m going to keep you living - and make sure you spend your whole life making this up to the Oda forces.”

Mitsuhide had to admit, that was a pretty good threat, on balance. Better than the usual from him, anyway. And it was impossible to miss the subtext there - that Hideyoshi wanted him around. Wanted to work with him again, and resented this distance between them. Mitsuhide smiled with a certain gentleness. “You know that if I return, I’ll cause you no end of trouble.”

“I’m used to it.” Hideyoshi’s gruff voice held a note of tenderness.

They both chuckled and Hideyoshi finally set Mitsuhide back on his feet. He looked almost bashful. “It’s not like I expect you to share all your secrets with me. Just … send me a letter or something when you plan to disappear. Alright?”

Mitsuhide knew he couldn’t swear to that, not with any honesty. “I make you no promises.”

“You should! Especially after this mess.” Hideyoshi gave him an exasperated look. He was clearly still angry, but his temper had cooled. 

Thankfully there was no reason to respond. Masamune intervened, coming through the open door as if this was his room. He gave the chatelaine a wink and spoke loudly. “You two arguing again? Knock it off and come eat breakfast!” 

Though the interruption was appreciated, Mitsuhide didn’t appreciate that little … flirtatious gesture. And now his little one was practically beaming at Masamune. Hmph.

The one-eyed dragon ducked out of the room only to come back moments later, arms laden with trays of food. He knelt and set them down. “It’s nothing fancy but it’ll put something in our bellies before we leave for Azuchi.” He sat himself down and looked at them expectantly. “Well, come on. Nobunaga has already eaten so we don’t want to keep him waiting. But don’t rush either.”

The chatelaine didn’t need a second invitation. She sat down, eager.

Hideyoshi looked from the food back to Mitsuhide. “Alright. I’m postponing this discussion for Masamune, but only until we finish eating.”

“If that’s what I have to look forward to, then I’d rather starve.” Mitsuhide tugged his arm closer to him, but the gesture stopped short.

“We’ll eat and then we’ll talk,” Hideyoshi frowned.  

Mitsuhide took a breath to calm himself. This wasn’t the time to become frustrated. He gave Hideyoshi a thin-lipped smile and sat with him. Thanks to the rope, that put his little one across from him, beside Masamune. Unacceptable.

Masamune watched them, his one eyebrow rising. “Are you two … are you bound together at the wrist?”

Perhaps another chance to lose the rope. Mitsuhide put on a pitiful expression. “It was horrible, Masamune! I pleaded with Hideyoshi to stop, but he forced me!”

Hideyoshi’s cheeks took on a scarlet hue and for a moment, he seemed tongue-tied. “Never- never describe it like that again.” He coughed. “Masamune, this is to keep track of him on the journey back to Azuchi. He won’t be able to sneak off this time.”

Masamune grinned widely. “Oh? I thought it was just the two of you taking the next step. Glad to hear it’s working out for you!” 

The chatelaine nearly spat her rice ball out as she held in a laugh. 

The crimson spread down Hideyoshi’s face to his neck. “I - did you hear anything I just said?”

Ignoring the outburst, Mitsuhide tugged on the rope at his wrist. “I just realized, I can’t use my chopsticks like this.”

“I’m not taking it off of you,” Hideyoshi said flatly. “No matter what.”

Exactly the response Mitsuhide hoped for. He gave the other warlord a heavy lidded gaze. “Oh, I know that, Hide. I wasn’t asking you to remove it. I was asking you to feed me.” 

“No. I’d rather punch you.”

Mitsuhide held in a chuckle. Hideyoshi was too easy to spin up. Now if he could mold that into a need to untie the rope … but this path hadn’t yielded fruit so far and Hide’s temper was starting to show. “Ah, I was only kidding.” He turned to look at his little one. “Would you feed me?” He opened his mouth, waiting.

She blushed, her eyes dropping to her plate. It made Mitsuhide want to kiss her.

“Just ignore him and eat your food,” Hideyoshi snapped.

“If you ignore me, I might cry,” Mitsuhide teased.

The chatelaine took a deep breath. “Alright, look. I’ll feed you - but just because you can’t feed yourself right now, ok?”

“Thank you.” Mitsuhide had only decided to ask her because he thought it would be cute to get her to feed him - and because the gambit had run its course with Hideyoshi. But this new tactic seemed to get under the other warlord’s skin just as well. 

His little mouse held out a bite of pickled beet. 

Mitsuhide ate it delicately from her outstretched chopsticks. There was something sensual about being fed by a lover. Or, there would have been without this particular audience.

“Hmm,” Masamune grunted. “That’s gonna be time consuming. How ‘bout I feed you while you feed him, lass? Here - open up.” And he put a bit of carrot between her lips. 

Mitsuhide’s eyes went wide and the words came out, instantaneous and uncalculated. “No! If anyone is going to feed her, it will be me.” He snagged a bit of daikon and held it out to her. “Say ahh …”

Her surprised look made him want to kiss her again. The way her lips closed over the chopsticks … Mitsuhide dearly wished for another few hours alone with her. No, more than a few. He needed a day. A week. 

“Hey! Wait a minute! You’re using those chopsticks just fine.” Hideyoshi shouted it, as if he made a surprising discovery.

“Oh am I? It’s a miracle.” Mitsuhide smiled across the table at his little mouse and then clacked his chopsticks at Hide. 

Hideyoshi grimaced, and was clearly coming up with a retort but whatever he thought of never made it out. The chatelaine derailed his train of thought by laughing.

A sound of pure happiness that seemed almost out of place after the night’s battle. And yet, it was joy that healed wounds and laughter that proved you were still alive. Masamune joined her and Mitsuhide could not hold back a chuckle. Even Hideyoshi gave an embarrassed chortle.

When she could speak again, she smiled at the three brightly. “It just feels so good to be together again. Reunited with my family from Azuchi.” 

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide felt uneasy. The conversation with Nobunaga went as expected, and now he was alone again - or almost so. His eyes found the chatelaine, walking a little ahead of him through the Kyoto streets. He had not expected that she would be by his side now. Hunting the shogun.

Nor had he expected to confess all to her - his long love of her, and how at each step, he’d tried to protect her. He didn’t know how to have this sort of relationship. An open one. An honest one. He was afraid he would ruin it somehow. Break her trust in him.

“Mitsuhide?”

“Hmm?” He pretended he hadn’t been watching her a moment ago. 

“Where are we headed?”

“To an inn I know. Unless you want to enjoy monkish hospitality for another night.” Mitsuhide smiled.

“No … besides, if Yoshiaki sent someone back, they’d know right where to find us.” His little mouse glanced around, nervous.

Mitsuhide smiled. “Very good. I see you’ve been paying attention when I talk. So for tonight, we will be anonymous guests at an inn where I trust the discretion of the owner.” 

The part of town he took her to was not particularly nice. The people here were mostly small time traders and farmers passing through - those with enough coin not to sleep rough, but not enough to sleep fine. 

He found the blue painted door and knocked twice. It opened a narrow crack. A filmy eye appeared in the crack, fixing on Mitsuhide’s face. Then it swung the rest of the way open.

“I thought it was you. Cursed fox. Don’t you have someplace else to be?” An old woman, bent from age and hard work, stared at them in displeasure.

“I have many places to be, but for tonight, I need to be here. With my wife.” Mitsuhide closed the door behind them. 

The old woman eyed his little mouse, circling her like a shark. “You married?”

“N-not officially,” the chatelaine stuttered. 

“Hmmph.” The old woman shook her head. “Best be careful girl. This one has slipped out of many a trap. And left plenty of broken hearts behind.”

Mitsuhide took the chatelaine’s arm. “I’ve no intention of escaping this particular snare.” He coughed. “Now - we need a bath and a room. I know you have one open …”

“Of course, of course. And your coin is good. Come on then, almost-married fox.” She hobbled to a backroom and up a set of rickety stairs.

“Is it safe,” his little one whispered.

“It is the safest place in Kyoto for us tonight. Tomorrow, we will move on. There is some investigating to do.” Mitsuhide hugged her to his side. It still seemed impossible that she was here, with him.

“Here’s the room. You know where to find the bath. I don't cook for guests so you're on your own if you get hungry.” The old woman threw open a door, showing a surprisingly clean room. Everything in it looked worn, but well cared for. Much nicer than the exterior would lead anyone to believe.

“Thank you.” Mitsuhide handed her a small bag of coins and guided his little mouse into the room. He closed the door behind them and waited in silence until her footsteps faded to squeaking stairs and then silence.

“I can’t believe you told her I was your wife.” His little one sat down on the edge of the futon and sighed. “You didn’t really ask me to marry you. Not . . . yet.” It was almost a question, the way she said it.

Mitsuhide sat beside her. He lifted a hand to the back of her neck, rubbing the tension away gently. “I told Nobunaga that I intended to marry you. It wasn’t a lie.”

She frowned at him even as she leaned into his touch. “You know, where I come from, you’re supposed to ask the girl.”

“Oh? Tell me how it’s done.”

She blushed. “I mean, it depends on the guy. But usually he gets a ring and goes down on one knee. Then he asks her if she would be willing to marry him. But … some guys do it differently. Skywriting or on a jumbotron at a baseball game. Or at a concert. Not - not that I would . . . want . . .” She trailed off.

Mitsuhide leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I have no idea what a jumbotron is or skywriting … it sounds very interesting.” 

His comment had the intended effect. She began explaining these things to him, her expression animated. She loved telling him stories of her time, and he enjoyed hearing them. But this calculation was more to change the subject. He’d almost forgotten about telling Nobunaga he planned to marry her.

And now she planned to stay. And he’d survived - so far - his attack on Ashikaga. He felt a sudden, deep urge to simply marry her here - tonight - and bind his life and his future to this brilliant beauty. But she deserved more recognition and ceremony than that. And … she deserved to be asked. 

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Oh, I was just imagining. What a strange time and place you come from little mouse.” 

She laughed. “I suppose it is. I wish sometimes that I could show it to you.” 

Mitsuhide stood. “Perhaps one day you will. But for tonight, I have something else in mind.” He picked her up and she squealed. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” 

“I am taking my beloved down to the bath. Where I plan to wash her hair and rinse her body. And when she is clean, I plan to worship her with kisses until she begs me to stop …”

His little one stopped struggling. Her eyes went wide. “Are you … are you teasing me?”

Mitsuhide kissed her slowly, passionately. He let his mouth tell her the truth of his words. Let his tongue slide between her lips to taste just a hint of her sweetness. To breathe her pleasured gasps. The heat grew between them, an unbearable tension that made him feel as if electricity ran from the join of their lips down, through his body. 

She felt light in his arms, and soft. He could feel the swell of her breast pressed against him. The skin of her calf. 

He broke the kiss, needing more from her tonight than that. 

“Not … teasing then …” she breathed. 

“No,” he agreed, and carried her to the bath.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide felt odd having a companion as he visited his informants, picked up letters and sent missives out to agents in the field. This was always a secretive space for him, one that even Kyubei only glimpsed - as needed. Now his little mouse tagged along beside him with her wide-eyed innocence. It made him feel … wary … in ways he never had before.

Was his contact at the Kyoto court making note of her? Had that street tough looked too long in her direction? Had she attracted too much attention when they stopped at a tea house to meet another of his spies? It left him on edge. Worried for her, worried because of her. And yet.

She had only to touch his arm, or say his name and he felt better. Besides, if they were apart, he thought, he’d only worry for her more. At least this way he knew the threats to her happiness and safety and he could deal with them.

“Mitsu, you’re frowning again.” The chatelaine pulled his attention from the door where two armed men stood, staring into the tea shop. 

“Am I?” Mitsuhide allowed himself a slight smile. “I’m afraid it’s the natural consequence of planning out this mission. But I will always have a smile for you.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. 

She sighed. “You don’t have to force it. I am worried too, you know. Ashi-”

“Don’t use names,” he reminded her.

“R-right. Shark-eyes is out there somewhere, plotting revenge. Only we don’t know where or what. And it’s mostly just me and you to stop him. Feels kind of … overwhelming.”

Mitsuhide patted her hand. “I have some thoughts on that. We may have more allies than we think in this fight.” He stood. “I just realized I need to step out for a moment. I’ll be right back.” 

His little one looked up at him, clearly worried he would escape her. Silly girl. As if he could simply walk away. She didn’t protest though. Only nodded and looked down at her cup of tea. 

Out front, the two armed men smiled at Mitsuhide as he stepped out to join them. “Been hoping we’d run across you, kitsune.” One of them spoke while the other spat into the dirt. 

“To think you and I shared a hope. It is truly a frightening idea.” Mitsuhide gave them a thin-lipped smile. “But I believe our meeting today may yield benefits for us both.”

The man that spoke before drew a short blade from under his clothes, letting the edge catch the light. “I’m seeing this ending one way for you, and one for us. But I’ll make it quick and painless if-”

Mitsuhide didn’t let him finish the threat. He slammed a fist into the man’s side, his knuckles bruising against the thug’s ribs. He held the other at bay with a swift kick to his knee, sending him into the dirt beside his spittle. 

The two men gasped in pain and surprise. 

“I don’t need tricks to deal with you,” Mitsuhide sighed, wiping his hands on his cloak. “Now put that blade away before I stab you with it. I have an offer that I think will please your captain more than bringing him my head.” It took only a few moments to outline his idea for the thugs. It was light on detail and heavy on speculation, but then, Mouri wasn’t known for his focus on the details. He could only hope his offer would capture Motonari’s interest. 

They limped off when he finished, a little ‘gift’ in hand. Mitsuhide found that flattery and a bit of gold always got further than raw brutality when dealing with minions. Usually a combination of the two was effective.

He went back in and sat down beside his little one. 

“Your hair got mussed,” she smiled. And gently fixed it with her fingers. “Did you have a nice walk?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “I was able to sort some ideas I’ve had. Are you done with your snack?”

She tipped back the last bit of tea and popped a rice cracker into her mouth. “I’m done now.”

“Then we have an appointment to get to.” Which wasn’t much of an appointment since the servants at Ashikaga’s Kyoto manor had no idea they were coming.

The estate was busy with cleaning and packing, putting away the finery that was only used when the shogun was in residence. The servants watched anxiously as Mitsuhide and the chatelaine entered. 

“Are we supposed to be here?” 

“I don’t see why not,” Mitsuhide replied. “I am, afterall, in the shogun’s employ.”

“You were but … Honno-ji?”

He waved her objection off. “I doubt he came back here to personally inform the servants of my employment status. Though I’m sure our presence will not make them happy.”

They made their way past the audience hall and into the private rooms. It was here that they were finally stopped by one of the vassals. An educated scribe, probably barely out of his teens, thin as a twig and pale from too much indoor work. But even so, he stood in the middle of the hall and faced Mitsuhide. 

“A-Akechi, you - you aren’t allowed in the - the lord’s study. He w-wouldn’t want you there.” The scribe shook and stuttered as he spoke, clearly terrified.

“Is that so, Riku? Do you think you know what Ashikaga wants?” Mitsuhide smiled at the scribe as if he really were a satori from the stories. “No. You don’t know, but you hope. You hope that if you stop me like this, in front of the other servants, that Ashikaga will notice you. Elevate you.” 

He took a step closer to the shivering vassal. “You imagine yourself a head scribe. Perhaps wedded to one of Yoshiaki’s cousins or nieces. You imagine yourself proud. But you know that all of this is only your fantasy. That Ashikaga will never notice anything you do, nor appreciate it. So tell me, Riku, do you really want to stand between me and what I want?”

“N-no.” Riku bent his head and stepped aside, pressing his back against the wall as if to sink into it. 

Mitsuhide patted the scribe on the head. “You are smarter than you credit yourself for.” Then he brushed past and into Yoshiaki’s inner rooms. 

“You’re really scary when you do stuff like that,” his little mouse whispered. “Like you just pulled the thoughts right out of his head.”

“More like right off his face.” Mitsuhide bent to look through the shogun’s desk. It had already been cleaned out, completely. He searched for any kind of hidden latch or secret compartment. There were two - but both as empty as the rest. 

While he searched, the chatelaine went to chat up the servants. She was quite good at it too. With her easy smile and kind laugh. By the time he finished going over Yoshiaki’s office and bedroom, she was sitting in the kitchen with Riku and four other house servants, commiserating. 

Mitsuhide listened from the hall as she drew out their stories of what it was like to serve the shogun. A cold man that gave no praise, only punishment. These were not happy vassals, but rather frightened victims of Ashikaga’s whims. One after another recounted tales of his cruelty. One maid nearly beaten to death for a dusty scroll. Another with a scar for letting the tea cool. Riku’s arms were covered in scars from his ‘training.’ But perhaps this too could be useful. 

The kitsune warlord finally came in, once it seemed the well of sorrows had run dry for today. “Come, my little mouse. I wasn’t able to find anything of use.”

Riku stood, still shaking a bit. “My lord -”

The chatelaine interrupted, tugging Mitsuhide’s arm so that he turned to look. “They’re worried that if Ashikaga hears you got in and out without a fight, he’ll have them killed or punish their families.”

Better and better, Mitsuhide thought. “I will do what I can to protect you,” he told them. “But you must do two things. First - you must continue to work for the shogun as you always have.”

Riku and the maids nodded. “Of course, but h-how does that h-help us?”

“By bringing me to my second requirement. You must trust me. Completely.” Mitsuhide watched them squirm beneath his golden gaze. 

It was the maids that agreed first, giving him low bows. Riku was the last to accede, with his voice trembling and his bow unsteady. 

Mitsuhide smiled. “Excellent. The first thing you will trust me with is the names and locations of your family - those the shogun would have ready access to.”

“Aren’t you going to ask us w-where he’s gone to?” Riku stuttered the question out.

“No. None of you were given his destination, so there is no point.”

“H-how did y-you-”

The chatelaine patted Riku’s arm. “He does that to me all the time.”

It took a few hours for his little mouse to scribe down the names while Mitsuhide and Riku set about constructing a fake battle at the gates. It was all quite convincing, and to make it stick, Mitsu gave the scribe a black eye. Altogether, nicely done. 

It was almost sunset when the two of them left, following the road to the west out of Kyoto. 

“Why did you have me take down these names,” his little one asked. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” he told her. Which was only half the truth. He’d need to send agents to each of the estates specified, with gold and promises - that was the half he knew he would do. The second part still had too many unknowns to disclose, but when it came together …

The chatelaine leaned her head against his arm. “It feels good to be traveling together again, no matter where it is we’re headed. But I do wish we could finish shark-eyes off quick.”

“Oh? Are you delaying your very important plans for my little mission?” Mitsuhide teased her with a too-sweet tone.

She smacked his arm, giggling. “No - not exactly. I was just thinking I can’t wait to have you all to myself. Without worrying about assassinations and plots and murderous shoguns …”

“Ah. Well, if that’s your definition of having me all to yourself, it may never come true.”

“Maybe not, but a girl has to have some goals in life.” She smiled up at him and Mitsuhide found himself agreeing with her. It did sound like a nice life. A peaceful one.

He stopped long enough to give her a light kiss on the lips. A taste of that impossible future.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide took a few more days in Kyoto to wrap up his business. He could have managed most with letters, but he wanted to be here for any reply from Mouri. The madman’s participation wasn’t a requirement to move forward, but his access to men and weapons would make life so much simpler. And it was an excuse to pamper his little mouse.

Not that he let her know that was his objective. To her it was just happenstance that their trip to visit an informant passed by a beautiful garden or a talented street performer. Or that the tea shop they stopped in surprisingly carried her favorite snacks. Her joy was Mitsuhide’s pleasure. He stored every memory of her delighted smiles and happy sighs. The look in her eyes when something took her breath away. 

And so he was almost disappointed the day the letter came, informing him Mouri would meet him at an upcoming festival in Kyoto. Mitsuhide didn’t want to discuss Mouri with his little one. Besides, he wasn’t sure what he could say that would do justice to the man and his reputation. So all he told her was that they’d be going to the festival together. 

It was a good location for a contact. Any city guards would be busy keeping order and no one there would likely know either of them on sight. Plus, the crowds would make it hard to get away with any violent double-cross. Still, it made him uneasy.

Meeting Mouri in a place he chose meant trusting there was no trap. And trusting Mouri was like expecting a rabid dog not to bite. Or, not to bite you anyway. 

“Are you worried about our mission,” she asked him as they walked through the crowded festival avenues. 

Mitsuhide glanced down at her and smiled. “No - not about our mission.” His little mouse looked as if she might squeak up again, so he added, “Let’s not think about it and just enjoy the festival together, hm?”

She frowned. “How can I not think about it? I mean, the sho-ah, shark-eyes, is planning our destruction as we speak!” 

“As we are planning his.” He stopped and faced her. “Right now, I am more interested in plotting a pleasant evening with you.” The half-truth stung, but he needed her to relax. To smile. To be his light. Because he knew he would do terrible, dark things still and without that balance, he would lose this sliver of peace they’d made together.

His little one blinked, surprised by the intensity of his response. “Oh. Well, that does sound nice …”

“Look,” Mitsuhide pointed toward a nearby food stall. “Candy sculptures.” The distraction worked as intended. Her gaze lit on the delicate confections, twisted around sticks into all kinds of shapes. 

She clapped her hands together in excitement. “They are so pretty! Can we get one?”

“We can get as many as you like,” he chuckled, letting her lead him to the stall. While she was ogling the display, he asked for two crane candies. Cranes were life-mates. Bonded from the moment they touched. He wasn’t sure she would understand the symbolism, but that was alright. 

Then they walked on, hand in hand, enjoying the sugary treat. 

“I’m glad you decided to bring me here,” she said after a moment.

“Well, it was you that reminded me humans - and kitsune - cannot go on without rest.” Mitsuhide watched her from the corner of his eye. She was finally smiling. Her small, pink tongue darted out to taste the candied crane. It made him want to kiss her. To taste the sugar on her lips, which would be far sweeter than the confection in his hand. He quite suddenly wished they were back in their room at the inn.

“Good.” She grinned over at him and bumped her hip against his leg. “So, why cranes? There were horses and dragons. Those colorful fish ones.”

A slight blush stained his cheeks as he realized she might have caught on to his choice. He cleared his throat. “Did you know that cranes mate for life?” He used the candy to ‘kiss’ her cheek. 

Her eyes went wide and her smile was soft and full of affection. She raised her candy up to give him a kiss on the lips. 

Mitsuhide took advantage of the moment to ‘kiss’ the crane back, which brought a rosy color to her cheeks too. The moment ended all too soon though. He saw the man they were here to meet approaching. Tall, and limned in red-lantern light that stained him blood-red. Motonari Mouri.

“Look,” he gestured toward the figure. “That is one of our potential allies. What a lucky -”

“So this is the real reason we came to the festival. I knew it had to be more than a fun night out!” She looked up at him, eyes dancing. “You can’t fool me, kitsune.”

Mitsuhide smiled fondly. “I suppose not. But a nice evening with you is also part of the plan. This is just the part I didn’t mention earlier.”

Her gaze went back to Mouri. “Who is he? What does he do?”

“Hmm. I suppose you could call him an artisan of violence. A creatively murderous fighter. I almost shudder to think of the horrors awaiting anyone that crosses him.” Mitsuhide’s tone was playful, but he was deadly serious about Mouri. He wanted her to understand this was not a kind soul they were allying with, but a killer. "He conquered the south through trickery and acts of seeming madness. He even pretended to die, and then came back when his foes were dead. They call him the God of Deceit."

His little one nodded once, squaring her shoulders. She might have asked more, but Mouri was too close now for further conversation.

“I gotta say, Kyoto knows how to have a festival.” Motonari greeted them with his usual swagger. “Nice as it is, this place is gonna be yer funeral if I don’t like what ya got to say. Savvy?” He took in Mitsuhide with a wary glance and then looked to the chatelaine. Where his eyes lingered longer than necessary.

Mitsuhide felt his jaw twitch and did his best to restrain the reaction. 

His little one took a step back, her face going pale. This only encouraged Mouri. 

“Who’s yer little friend here, eh?” Motonari took a step closer to her, raising a hand as if he was going to touch her.

Mitsuhide stepped between them smoothly. “This is my fiancee.”

Motonari grinned wider. “You brought your little lady to parley. With me.” He laughed, a sound edged with madness. “I like a man that doesn’t respect the rules.”

The chatelaine poked her head around to look at Mouri. 

“My love, this is Motonari Mouri. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” Which he was because he’d given her that lesson just now. 

“Of course.” She came out to stand beside him, putting her brave face on. “You conquered the whole south. The God of Deceit."

Mouri laughed again. “I gotta say, the best part o’ that introduction is the bit where yer eyes went wide with horror.” 

Mitsuhide did not appreciate the way Mouri’s gaze swept up and down his little mouse, or the rise of his brows as he tried - in his rough way - to flirt. “Yes, she is a delight isn’t she? Touch her and you’ll leave this meeting with one less hand.” A crude threat for a crude man … or so he rationalized.

“That so? Guess it depends on how many parts you plan ta leave behind.” Motonari threw back his head, laughing so hard he shook. 

The chatelaine interrupted with a polite cough. “If - if I may ask - how did you two meet?”

“Until recently, we were both in the service of Shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki,” Mitsuhide replied. He didn’t want to give Mouri the opportunity to characterize their relationship, such as it was.

Motonari got control of himself in time to nod, adding. “I slipped out before Mitsuhide here. But I promised him a good bloodbath before I left.” He wiped a fleck of spittle from his lip. “So, out with it. Why’d you invite me to meet?” 

Mitsuhide watched Mouri slide his gloved hands into his jacket. He took out a pistol and spun it lazily, waiting for an answer. “Motonari, there’s no need to play coy. You know why I contacted you. You watched my little drama play out at Honnoji, from start to unsatisfying finish.” He pointedly did not look directly at the gun and kept his expression one of thin-lipped indifference.

“Mind-reader. No wonder people get so twitchy around you.” Mouri shrugged one shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “You want help killing the shogun.”

“Very much so.”

Mouri pointed the pistol at Mitsuhide. “Does it get drafty in that big empty space o’ yer head? I didn’t come here tonight to get disappointed!”

The chatelaine bit her lip and looked for a moment as if she might run. Mitsuhide could feel the way her body tensed, but she held still. 

All he did was raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What part of this disappoints?”

Motonari scoffed. “How ‘bout the whole damn thing? Tell ya what - I got one goal. Just one. And that’s ta get you and Kenshin. Shingen. Nobunaga. Hell, anyone worth a damn, into one big, bloody melee.” His lips twitched into a half smile. “If everyone’s not trying to kill each other, then it’s not much of a party!” 

He gestured at Mitsuhide with his gun. “Ya think I’m gonna waste my time with some small fry like the shogun? I should shoot you right here, right now, in place o’ asking fer an apology. In fact.” He stroked the unlit fuse.. “I think I will.” Mouri pressed the barrel against Mitsuhide’s head, digging the iron into his skin.

Mitsuhide knew his little one was contemplating some mad attempt to ‘rescue’ him and rather than reply to Motonari, he first looked at her. Waiting to see a slight nod that meant she understood she was to stay still. He had this handled. In fact, it was going better than he’d expected. Mouri was playing right into his hands.

“I see. You plan to leave the shogun free to roam, ensuring that your long dreamed of bloodbath remains only a fantasy.” Mitsuhide sighed. “I expected better from you.”

Mouri raised an eyebrow. His pistol didn’t so much as twitch.

“Surely you see it.” Mitsuhide waited a beat, then continued. “The shogun will never engage with Nobunaga - or any of his enemies - in open combat. If he did, he might lose. Instead he will seek to assassinate them, one at a time. Subtly. An accident here, a mysterious illness there. Until there are none left to take the field. No celebration. No battle. Only quiet, pathetic deaths. One enemy after another. Who knows, perhaps he would even target you.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Motonari’s defiant reply was somewhat spoiled by the nervous way he licked his lips.

Mitsuhide smiled. “Of course not. But your bloodbath will be severely lacking when there is no one there to bleed. A good party requires … guests - does it not?”

Mouri chuckled. “Ya got a silver tongue. But it’ll be so much viscera on the paving stones when I pull this trigger.”

“Mhmm. I imagine parts of me would travel quite far. Perhaps spattering the food stall there, or some of those festival-goers.”

“They told me you were tricky, kitsune. But no one mentioned you were mad.” Motonari closed the distance between them until he was close enough to kiss. 

Mitsuhide stared into the depths of his red glare, imitating the madman’s own body language. Gold on scarlet glinted in the light of the festival lanterns in this space of tense silence.

Then Motonari started laughing. His breath smelled of sake and tobacco. “Alright. Ya got me. I’m in, just this once.” And he lowered his pistol.

Mitsuhide watched as the madman carefully wiped down the barrel and placed it back in the holster. His hand found the chatelaine’s icy fingers. He gripped her hand tightly. She was alright and so was he. The gambit had paid off.

“The only place I’ll let Nobunaga and the rest die is in a sea of blood and gunpowder. By my hand.” Motonari sounded certain as he said this. As sure as he would be telling them the sun would rise in the east.

“Then I believe we have a deal.” Mitsuhide knew the bargain would only last so long as Mouri saw the necessity of it. And stayed entertained. Hopefully they could locate the shogun quickly and be done with this.

Motonari gave a snort that might be agreement, then gestured to the candy Mitsuhide still held. “Say, why don’t ya treat yer new ally to some o’ that fancy candy, huh?”

“You … want candy?” Mitsuhide couldn’t help the ways his eyebrows rose. 

“Yeah. So run along and get some fer me. The lady an’ I will wait fer ya right here.” Mouri took a step toward the chatelaine. 

Mitsuhide didn’t need to be psychic to know what ran through his little mouse’s head. It was written in her face in large, panicked script. ‘Don’t leave me alone with this maniac!’ The kitsune thought fast. “I am sure I could deliver a better token of friendship to you at a later da-”

“I ain’t asking fer a better token o’ whatever.” His voice rasped and his hand moved toward the holster of his gun again. 

That was the problem with unstable allies. They couldn’t be relied on. Even the simplest things could set them off. Any situation could become a violent one at the drop of a pin. But what bothered Mitsuhide the most was this. There was only one reason for this particular request. Mouri wanted to be alone with the chatelaine. Why?

“Yer girl will still be here when ya get back.” Motonari smiled like a shark. A hungry one.

“Go ahead, Mitsu. Get him some candy. I’ll be fine.” She gave Mitsuhide an uneasy smile.

“I’ll be right back.” It made him feel ill to say it but Mitsuhide knew it would be better to go along with the madman than to fight him on such a small request. And besides, if he tried anything, the chatelaine would scream. Then, Mouri would lose more than his life. So it was reasonably safe to leave them for a few minutes.

Mitsuhide glanced back at them as he hurried away. Mouri was sitting beside the chatelaine now, almost close enough for his hip to touch hers. Bile surged in his belly. No one should be so close to his little mouse. No one but him. Just hurry up, he told himself. Hurry and get back.

He found a closer stall with the same kinds of candy and picked out a fish for Motonari. Then hurried back. His little one was smiling at the madman and Mouri looked … confused. Jealousy burned through his veins in a wave, and he almost ran the last few steps, shoving the stick of candy between the two of them. “There. Your candy. Now get away from her.”

The last sentence was almost a growl, and Mitsuhide couldn’t help the way he reached for his little one. Pulled her close. She was his, her smile and her laugh. Her kind eyes. Mouri deserved to be close to none of it. 

Even as the jealousy burned through him, a colder, more logical part of Mitsuhide scolded him for his rash behavior. This was not like him at all. This display. What did it hurt, even if Motonari was flirting with the chatelaine? Nothing, really. Except … except Mitsuhide didn’t want her to be anywhere near that madman. She could get hurt. Not just physically - but her heart and her sweet spirit. He had to protect her.

Motonari seemed unaffected as he took the stick of candy and popped it in his mouth. “There’s somethin’ wrong with yer lady friend. She’s crazier’n I am,” he said around the stick.

“There is nothing wrong with her. She is perfect.” The words were out before he’d even had time to consider his response. This was … odd. He never spoke without thinking. Never.

“That so? Cause from here it looks like her madness is contagious. Gettin’ worse from person to person.” He chomped down on the candy, crushing the spun sugar figure between his teeth.

Mitsuhide’s first instinct was to slap the sweet out of his mouth and break his teeth with a well-placed elbow. But he held himself still, rigid. His heart was beating fast and he felt hot - shaky. Acting now would be … ill-advised.

Motonari shook his head and stood up. He addressed the chatelaine. “Better hope yer man doesn’t get tripped up by his love-addled brain. If he does,” he took the candy out of his mouth and pointed toward her with the jagged, chewed end. “I’ll fall on you.”

This threat was more than Mitsuhide could stand still for. He pushed his little one behind him and grabbed the hilt of his sword. “You will stay away from her! If you take a step closer to her - now or ever - I will remove your head from your neck.” The words were a barely audible snarl.

If Mouri was worried about this, it didn’t show. He only smiled his shark-like grin. “Where’d your disguise go, kitsune? Your real face is showing now. Barking like a fox in a trap.”

Mitsuhide tried to get control of his breath. To push the murderous rage in his chest back down. To slide his mask back into place. 

From behind him, his little one hugged his back. “There’s nothing to worry about. My Mitsuhide won’t trip up.”

Motonari shrugged. “We’ll see.” Then he was walking away, swaggering through the festival crowd.

Mitsuhide watched him leave, and when he was out of sight, finally let go of his sword hilt. He was shaking. He turned to wrap his arms around his little one. Feeling her warm body pressed tight, the steady rhythm of heartbeat and breath, calmed him. She was here and safe and his. 

“Are you alright,” she asked, her voice muffled against him.

“Yes. I … I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. This was only the first of several dangerous meetings they would need to undergo in this quest to see the shogun taken down. There would be more meetings with Mouri and others. He had to find a way to control this - this response of his. Otherwise Motonari was right.

Chapter Text

The inn was on the outskirts of Kyoto. It wasn’t as comfortable as the room they’d left behind, but Mitsuhide would not introduce dangerous allies to one of his safe havens. Besides, they needed a larger room to assemble supplies and hold meetings. This place fit the bill. 

He spent several days writing and responding to missives. Notifying his Kyoto weapons’ dealers of his needs, and keeping in touch with Kyubei on the hunt for Ashikaga. But most of the planning was waiting. Waiting to see if the remaining allies he called would come. Nevermind what he would do if they did.

Mitsuhide only hoped he could keep his emotions under control no matter the threat. They couldn’t risk another repeat of his first meeting with Motonari. Not only had it shaken him to react so emotionally, it had shaken his little mouse. 

Though she was quiet about it, her introspection and anxiety was hard to miss. Mitsuhide took every moment he could to comfort her but the effects were only temporary. She was on edge, and would be until this business was finished.

Mitsuhide was about to go out to meet with another agent when the innkeeper knocked on the door to their room.

“There is a man here to see you,” the innkeeper told him. He kept his gaze on the ground as if afraid to really look at Mitsuhide. 

“What does he look like?”

The innkeeper took a moment to consider. This wasn’t to remember the appearance, but to weigh the pros and cons of accuracy. “Ah, he isn’t quite as tall as you, my lord. And he has dark brown hair. Brown eyes. And … he wears a thing on his face. Over his eyes.”

“A mask?”

“N-no …”

Mitsuhide didn’t recognize the description at all. It could be some new disguise for one of his agents. Or an assassin sent by Ashikaga. Or anyone else entirely. He loosened his sword in its saya. “I do not know this visitor.”

The innkeeper bowed again. “Nevertheless …”

“Yes, let him up.”

The chatelaine stood from her work - sewing a more mobile kimono for herself - and backed up. 

As the innkeeper scurried out to fetch this ‘guest’ Mitsuhide positioned himself beside the door. He motioned to his little one. “Be ready to greet this man when he arrives. If he looks dangerous, I will kill him before he even knows I am here.”

She winced at his blunt instruction but nodded. “Only if he looks immediately dangerous ok? Dangerous describes like … half my friends in this time.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “It isn’t anyone from Azuchi.”

“Still. Let’s not murder some innocent messenger, ok?”

He wanted to tell her innocence was a commodity more rare than saffron, but she already looked worried enough. 

There was a shuffling outside, the sound of footsteps and then the door slid open. 

“I’m sorry to call on you so early in the morning -” he began. But he didn’t get very far.

The chatelaine flung herself across the space between them to wrap him in a warm hug. “Sasuke!”

Mitsuhide felt a twinge of jealousy at the way she smiled up at this stranger, her expression one of delight. Still, it didn’t seem that this visitor was an immediate threat. He let go of his sword hilt with only a little reluctance.

“Good to see you too,” the stranger - Sasuke - grinned down at her. “I really am sorry to just show up like this. I tracked your location because I have something important to tell you.” He pushed the chatelaine back, holding her by the shoulder. “Do you know what day it is?”

Her expression fell.

Mitsuhide stepped forward, tugging her away from the stranger. “Do you know this man?”

Sasuke held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mitsuhide Akechi.” His flat expression and tone did nothing to reassure the warlord. 

“And it seems he knows me.” This made Mitsuhide very uncomfortable. He was the man who knew things, not the one who was known. Perhaps he’d let go of his hilt too soon.

“I’ve been reading about you since I was little. It’s an honor to finally be able to speak to you in person.” Sasuke bowed. “My name is Sasuke Sarutobi and I’m a - a friend from her home town.” He gestured toward the chatelaine.

Mitsuhide felt one eyebrow rise. “Her hometown, you say?” He took a step toward this - this Sasuke and a note of challenge entered his voice. “Then you are also from 500 years in the future?”

“Galileo’s glass! How did you guess that?” Sasuke’s expression remained flat, but his voice rose with surprise.

The chatelaine blushed. “I told him, actually.”

Sasuke looked between the two of them and his eyes widened. “You two … are in love?”

Mitsuhide grimaced. “I wasn’t aware there was a second time-traveler here.” It made him wonder what other tidbits his little one might have kept back. And what delicious techniques he could use to get her to confess everything she knew. Like what a Galileo was.

The chatelaine stepped around him to face Sasuke directly. “Thank you for coming all the way here to remind me. But … I decided not to go back. I’m going to stay here in this time.”

Sasuke stared at her as if he didn’t understand.

Mitsuhide felt a knot of tension in his chest release. It was a worry he hadn’t realized he was carrying. But hearing her say this, aloud, and to a man from her time - it felt good. He found her gaze with his own and smiled. 

“I’m staying here for Mitsuhide. And for the other friends I’ve made.” The chatelaine returned his smile with a warm one of her own. 

Sasuke’s eyes finally narrowed again, crinkling a little at the edges as he shared their grin. “It seems we find ourselves in a similar situation then. I came here in part to tell you that I didn’t plan on returning.”

“You fell in love too?” The chatelaine’s whole expression lit up with joy at the idea of this stranger falling for someone in this time. It reassured Mitsuhide to see it, for surely, if they had been lovers, she wouldn’t be so pleased about that.

The stranger chuckled. “Not exactly. It’s just been a busy four years and I’ve gained a mountain’s worth of people too important to me to leave behind.” He paused and adjusted the contraption on his face. “Not that I would leave at this juncture anyhow. There is still the matter of Yoshimoto to settle, for one.”

“My apologies for interrupting you - Sasuke - but I cannot stay quiet after hearing that name.” Mitsuhide felt another stir of jealous venom. Yoshimoto. He still remembered the way the fallen lord of the Imagawa has looked as his little one that night at Honnoji. He knew too well what that spark meant in another man’s gaze, but the chatelaine was his. 

Mitsuhide slid an arm around her shoulder before continuing. “It would appear that you are more than a childhood friend. Who are you, Sasuke Sarutobi? And who do you work for?”

“Sasuke is, um, ah -” The chatelaine stumbled over an explanation before the stranger interrupted.

“It’s alright. Returning you to the future wasn’t my only reason on this visit.” Sasuke gave another slight bow. “I wanted to say thank you for what you did for Yoshimoto.” Then he turned to face Mitsuhide full on, not flinching a bit. “To answer your question, I am a ninja in service to my lord. Kenshin Uesugi.”

“Fascinating.” Mitsuhide tightened his grip on his little mouse. Yes. There were very many questions he had for her, and getting every answer was going to take at least one whole night. Perhaps several. Just to be sure.

Sasuke went on blithely. “Yoshimoto and his vassals were originally taking shelter with us at Echigo. When he disappeared, Yukimura Sanada and I were tasked to bring him back - which is how I wound up watching events unfold at Honno-ji. I witnessed how the two of you saved Yoshimoto and the remnant of his vassals.”

“I hope Motonari shared the popcorn,” the chatelaine muttered. 

“What?” Sasuke looked confused. “There was no - ah, I see.” The two of them shared another grin. “After the battle, I relayed this information to Kasugayama. And let me say, it is with thanks from all of us that I present this token of our appreciation for your actions that night.” He presented a little box.

Mitsuhide stared at the item suspiciously. Too small to be an effective explosive. Large enough to contain any number of sharp, poisoned items. Or a serpent, angry at it’s imprisonment. Ready to strike whoever opened its cage. 

Of course, his little one wasn’t nearly so wary. She reached for the present excitedly. “Oh, what is it Sasuke?”

“My very own homemade ground spikes. Hand selected by me, for you.” 

She opened the box as Mitsuhide stood ready to knock it away from her should it prove dangerous. But, it was exactly as Sasuke had said. Full of small caltrops, perfect to slow and wound a following enemy. That didn’t discount the possibility that they were poisoned. 

Mitsuhide eased the box from her hands as she exclaimed over how sharp they looked. He set it on the table and put the lid back on. “Am I to understand, Sasuke, that you approached an enemy warlord with no weapon in hand, only gifts at the ready?”

Sasuke nodded. “Despite living the hashtag sengoku hustle, I maintain a work-life balance with emotionally fulfilling parasocial relationships.”

Mitsuhide took a moment to parse the babble. There were some actual words in it, but mostly, just gibberish. He looked to the chatelaine to see if she’d understood any of that.

She gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the future-speak. What Sasuke means is that even though he works for Echigo, he admires you as a person.”

Future-speak. So in her time, gibberish was spouted as a normal course of conversation. Yet another reason to question her … thoroughly. It reminded him uncomfortably of the space between them, even while exciting him at the idea of closing that distance. There were so many things about her that he had yet to explore. There’d been no time … not yet. But there would be, if he lived.

“Tee whiee,” Sasuke responded back with more of his impenetrable code language.

Mitsuhide frowned. “This insight into your time has made me lose all interest in the future.” Which wasn’t true, but he felt annoyed with this connection between his little one and her friend. Not that he would ever admit it. 

“Did you manage to catch up to Yoshimoto?” The chatelaine asked, moving the conversation back to shared topics. 

“We did. But now Yoshimoto has decided to take full responsibility for his clan leaving Echigo.” 

“I don’t like the sound of that.” 

Sasuke nodded again. “He said he hoped his vassals would be welcome, but that he was not in need of a home.” The ninja gave an exasperated sigh. “We couldn’t convince him to come back with us, even though a lot of people are waiting for him in Echigo.”

The chatelaine made a worried sound, her eyes wide. “I want him to feel able to go back.”

“Even his vassals couldn’t convince him to return.” Sasuke looked to the side. “Yoshimoto may seem to have his head in the clouds, but he has a will of iron.”

Mitsuhide listened to the conversation intently. He could personally care less if the Imagawa clan head lived or died. But his little mouse cared and so - he put his mind to work, turning the problem inside and out. Pride was often a useful tool. Fatalism as well. “I have a suggestion,” he said when the two friends fell silent.

“Out of respect for you revealing yourself to me, Sasuke, I will reveal something to you. I am planning to kill Yoshiaki Ashikaga.”

Sasuke nodded thoughtfully. “I suspected that was the reason the two of you stayed behind in Kyoto.”

“Mmm, well, should I fail here, I am certain Echigo would be Ashikaga’s next target. As this is assured, I think it may be wise to approach Yoshimoto with an offer of exchange.” Mitsuhide’s smile widened. “I’d like him to rejoin his allies in Echigo and bring the battle of dragon and tiger back to the Oda forces.” 

The chatelaine and Sasuke both gasped at the same time. 

Sasuke shook his head. “Could this be Akechi’s infamous betrayal? With me as an accomplice? A second - no a third Honno-ji Incident?!” 

“Calm down,” the chatelaine told him, though she didn’t look calm herself. “I don’t think Mitsuhide means a real war. At least, I hope he doesn’t.”

Mitsuhide gave his little mouse an approving look. “Correct. It will only appear that hostilities have resumed, when in fact, a temporary alliance will have been formed.”

“How does this help,” Sasuke asked.

“The conflict will draw Ashikaga’s eyes away from me, and that will give me the opportunity to strike.”

“Yes, I see. With Echigo next on the shogun’s list, Yoshimoto’s return would be riding to the aid of his allies and assisting in Ashikaga’s defeat.” Sasuke’s brows twitched. “Thus giving him two powerful and still noble reasons to return. Brilliant.”

Mitsuhide was pleased that he need not spell it out completely. “If ever you chose to leave Echigo, Sasuke, do let me know.” 

“That is unlikely, but thank you.” Sasuke’s lips turned up in a small smile. “I will take it as a mark of honor that the Mitsuhide Akechi tried to scout me.” He raised and lowered one fist in the air in some sort of bizarre salute or prayer. 

“You know, I could write him a letter.” The chatelaine spoke up.

Sasuke agreed. “A letter from you would be perfect. He is always very receptive to your suggestions, and I think it would cheer him up.”

“A little too receptive,” Mitsuhide muttered. Then said more loudly. “I agree that will be effective. But -” the words pushed their way out even as he tried not to say them. “You’ve never written a letter to me.”

“Oh.” His little one blushed, making one of the faces he adored so much. Her lips were just slightly parted, eyes wide. Cheeks pink. She held a hand almost to her heart. 

It made Mitsuhide want to pull her close and kiss her breathless. But they had a guest. The kiss would have to wait.

“I can write you a letter whenever you like,” she offered.

“Then you will write one for me first. Then. You can write Yoshimoto.” 

Her smile was so wide it looked almost painful. “You really want me to write you a letter? Even though I’m right here?”

Mitsuhide did pull her close then, lips brushing against her ear. Her hair tickled his cheek. “I would. The joy of receiving a letter from you would only be enhanced by your presence.” And then, just to emphasize and not at all because he felt jealous, he kissed the edge of her ear lightly.

Sasuke gave an awkward cough. “I-Is it alright if I interrupt?”

“My apologies.” Mitsuhide straightened. He wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

“Nothing to apologize for. I just wanted to say, when the letter to Yoshimoto is finished, let me know and I’ll deliver it immediately.”

The chatelaine giggled. “It’s second on my to-do list, I promise!”

Sasuke gave her another of his small smiles. “I believe you. And I think that is my cue to be off. I’ve left my contact information with your innkeeper.” 

“I hope next time you visit, we can have tea and chat.” 

Sasuke’s gaze slid from the chatelaine to Mitsuhide and back. “That could be very interesting.” 

“Very,” Mitsuhide agreed drily. Then saw the stranger - no, Sasuke now - out. What an odd turn of events this was. He returned to his little mouse with many things on his mind.

Chapter Text

“Little mouse.” Mitsuhide turned his golden eyes on her the moment they were alone again. “You have been keeping secrets.”

She blushed and looked away. “N-not exactly secrets. They weren’t mine to tell!”

“Fraternizing with enemy ninja.” He held up a finger. “Omitting the number of time travelers.” A second finger went up. “Keeping silent about … friends … from your past.” A third finger. 

“Well, now you know everything,” she huffed and turned to walk back to the desk.

Mitsuhide caught her in his arms from behind. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

“W-what?”

“I -” he kissed her neck. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Think. You. Have.” Each word was followed by a delicious nip at her sensitive skin.

Her breath was a little ragged now. Good. “M-mitsu … I - I would have - told you - about Sasuke …”

He blew lightly across the reddened skin. She shivered. Closed her eyes. His lips closed over the same patch of skin, sucking lightly on it, licking with his tongue. 

His little one moaned and leaned back against him, giving in to his touch.

Mitsuhide lifted his mouth to her ear. “I plan to question you thoroughly. You will tell me everything. About your past. Your friends. Your arrival here … and every time you’ve met with this Sasuke.”

She twisted around to face him, her smile wide. “Are you jealous, Mitsu?”

“No.” He frowned at her, suddenly feeling self conscious. His eyes found the mark on her neck. “Perhaps a little.” 

“You don’t need to be.” She took both his hands in hers and squeezed them. “I met Sasuke the night I was brought here - and since he was my only connection to my own time, we kept in touch. That’s all.”

“Is it?”

She giggled. “And he’s a really nice guy. But Mitsuhide … even if he was my ex, I picked you. I want you. Only you.”

The look in her eyes made his heart thud painfully in his chest. He pressed her back against the desk, lifting her up to sit on the edge. His hip pressed against her, his lips almost touching hers. “But I am not a ‘nice guy.’ You know that.”

“It’s part of what I love about you.” 

Mitsuhide kissed her. Deeply. Thoroughly. As if to pour himself into her or to pull her into him. Her legs wrapped around his hips, welcoming. But this wasn’t the time. He had contacts to make and a quick rendezvous wouldn’t be enough. Not even close to enough. He pulled back to look at her flushed cheeks and heavy lidded eyes.

“Mitsuhide …” She reached for him.

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Tonight, little one.”

“Tease.” She stood and straightened her kimono. 

He smiled wickedly, though he felt an ache for her as well. “Isn’t that part of what you love about me too?”

She pouted. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Mitsuhide drew a finger down her throat and along her collarbone, loving the way she reacted to his touch. “I do hope I’ve given you enough to think about then.”

He left a few goodbyes later, hurrying to meet his contact. A farmer with Ikko Ikki contacts that swore he could get a message to the disgraced monks. His little one stayed behind to write her letters. His first, of course.

This next part of his plan was the most precarious. There were many reasons for the Ikko Ikki to want him dead and few reasons to agree to an alliance, however temporary. Yet he felt sure that if he had a chance to talk, he could redirect their anger. 

The farmer was where Mitsuhide expected him to be. Standing outside the teahouse, looking out of place and nervous. This was the problem with amateur spies. They couldn’t act natural if their lives depended on it.

He sighed and then put on his trademark smile. Time to work.

It was dark by the time Mitsuhide wrapped up his last meeting. He felt tired, mentally and physically. His body still had not recovered and his mind … he worried he would not be able to control himself. His emotions even now were far from calm. 

He felt a sick tension twisting his insides. How could he keep her safe through this mission? He wasn’t sure he could keep himself safe. If he failed, she would die along with him. Murdered by Ashikaga or Mouri. Perhaps even Kennyo. They were all bloodthirsty monsters. 

And if he succeeded, she would know him for what he was. An assassin. He could picture the look of disgust on her face. The light in her eyes fading. Turning away from him. 

Succeed and lose her. Fail, and lose her. 

Mitsuhide stopped outside their inn, leaning back against the wall of the building. He took a deep, slow breath. “She chose me,” he repeated. “She wants me. And she knows what kind of man I am.” He had only to believe that. Most of the time he did, but sometimes, in moments like this, he wondered if the man she loved and the man he was were the same person. 

When he felt more in control of himself, he went up. She met him on the stairs with a smile and a kiss, unaware of the turmoil she stirred in him. 

“I finished your letter.” She handed him a carefully folded paper. 

Mitsuhide took it, and kissed her hand. “I cannot wait to read it.” He led her upstairs and sat down on the floor, facing the window. Behind him, he could hear his little mouse sit down at the desk. Finishing her letter for Yoshimoto. Another possible ally.

He suppressed another flare of jealousy. The Imagawa clan leader was only a friend. A distant one, at that. No matter Yoshimoto’s feelings for her. 

The letter opened like a flower, unfolding to show him her carefully written words. Her handwriting was … not elegant. It was plain, straightforward. But he could tell she’d taken great care with every character. 

His eyes scanned the page slowly. He read it once. And then again. Then went through to find his favorite parts. She liked to watch him walk, did she? And she loved it when he combed his fingers through her hair? There were so many things she said she loved about him. His sweet little mouse. 

She said that she loved him no matter what because she saw his kindness and his ideals, despite his methods. 

Her words were a balm to his soul.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide sat beside his little mouse, sharing space at the desk in their rooms. A packet of letters sat open in front of him, missives from Kyubei and his distant intelligence network. They were closing in on the shogun’s location. Ashikaga’s hiding spot was down to two holes he might have crawled into. Both had features to recommend them.

Nearness to reliable roads, distance from well-maintained lands. Space to accommodate his collected forces. Mitsuhide closed his eyes in thought.

“I’ll ask for some tea,” his little one said, and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I thought I was the mindreader,” he smiled. 

She laughed softly. “Another skill I learned from you, hm?”

Mitsuhide felt a burst of warmth, and would have pulled her into his arms had he not caught the soft chime of bells on the stairs below. His smile turned sharp as he stood, placing himself between the door and his beloved.

“What -” she started to ask, interrupted by the door sliding open and the sound of a harsh, wild laugh.

“Motonari works fast,” Mitsuhide muttered. “This will be our next ally.” He hoped. This meeting was an even bigger risk than Mouri had been.

He heard her whisper under her breath. “I hope we get a cleric. Someone with a lawful alignment, at least.” It was an odd thing to say, but strangely accurate, considering.

“Special delivery,” Motonari called out as he entered the room and presented the figure behind him.

“I assume you’ve called me here to perform your last rites, Mitsuhide Akechi.” Kennyo’s voice was low and smooth. Like an underground river, steadily dissolving the stone. Unstoppable, unchanging. He was as solid as ever, his wide shoulders filled the doorway. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were twin fires, giving heat but no light.

Mitsuhide met his gaze, acknowledging the shared history of violence between them. “Welcome, Abbot. I have been looking forward to this meeting.”

The chatelaine’s eyes went from Kennyo to Motonari, clearly trying to weigh the greater threat. She lingered on the monk, her eyebrows rising with a flash of recognition.

Mitsuhide wondered what she was thinking. Was it only surprise at seeing the man in person after all the rumors and stories she’d heard about the Abbot? Or did she have yet another secret she hadn’t shared with him? The need to know was a dangerous distraction and he worked to force his attention back to the immediate problem. “My dear, you should wait next door.” 

She stubbornly shook her head. “I’m staying right here.”

He wanted to argue with her but Mouri dismissed the problem of her presence. “Forget the girl, kitsune. Let’s get to business, savvy?”

Kennyo’s glare rolled from Mitsuhide to Motonari. “I am not here for business.” He pulled his prayer staff apart, revealing the slim, sharp blade hidden within. 

Mitsuhide pulled his own sword the second he caught the reflected lamplight in its metallic sheen. It was a good thing he did as he only barely managed to block the Abbot’s strike. “What a very sensible weapon.” He gave the monk a tight smile.

“I am not here to listen to you talk,” Kennyo growled. “I am here to send you to hell where you belong!” His advance was like a boulder coming down the side of a mountain. Inexorable. 

The monk brought the blunt end of his staff up. Mitsuhide caught the blow on the flat of his blade, but the force of it shivered up his arm and left him open. Open to the glistening tip of Kennyo’s sword as it swept toward his throat.

The chatelaine lurched forward, her hands flying up as if to stop the monk’s sword. 

Mitsuhide moved back and the strike that would have killed him only left a small pearl of blood at his throat. His attention wasn’t on the wound or even his near-death blow. It was on his little one, who stood awkwardly in the midst of drawn blades, her hands still extended. “Get back, now,” he shouted, his voice cracking with panic held barely in check.

If she was hurt … if … he couldn’t finish the thought. His little mouse turned her head to look at him but didn’t follow his order. Mitsuhide grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him and into a corner. With a wall on two sides, leaving him a smaller area to guard.

Kennyo’s scar pulled at his face, twisting the grim smile he now wore. “You are afraid, Akechi. Good. May your death bring a measure of peace to your victims.” The Abbot prepared for another strike. 

Motonari’s shrill laugh split the tense air. “Come on! Yer not tryin’ ta leave me outta the fun, are ya?” He pulled his sword in one hand and his pistol in the other. His grin was manic and feral as he looked between possible targets.

Mitsuhide felt sick with anxiety. Against one madman, he was sure he could keep his little one safe. Against two? And one armed with a pistol? He would need to disarm or kill Mouri first. Kennyo was a deadly opponent, but predictable. The move would leave him open to the monk, but made it less likely that his beloved would be hurt. He shifted his stance, readying himself.

“Thanks fer gettin’ the party started.” Motonari laughed again. “I was feelin’ lonely over here.”

Mitsuhide leapt at Mouri, giving the pirate no time to move into a better position. But Kennyo wasn’t going to wait for his turn. 

The Abbot stepped between Motonari and Mitsuhide, shoving the kitsune warlord back. “I will not be cheated of your death!”

Mouri struck at the monk, forcing Kennyo to turn and block his blade. 

Mitsuhide took advantage of the distraction, knocking the pistol from Motonari’s grip. The sharp edge of his sword left the skin of Mouri’s hand split open and weeping redly. He chanced a look back at his beloved. She hadn’t budged from her spot in the corner. “Run!” Mitsuhide kicked Mouri’s pistol further from him. “Run while you can!”

The pirate laughed even louder, moving as quick as an eel to dodge Kennyo and turn his aggression toward Mitsuhide. 

The chatelaine shook herself from her shock and darted around the edge of the fray. Mitsuhide felt a spike of worry but in a moment she’d reach the door, and safety. But before she was out of danger, she stopped, turned.

Mitsuhide recognized the expression on her face. Naive resolve. That stubborn streak he loved and hated. 

Instead of running, she shoved herself into the middle of the combat. “STOP! Stop fighting this instant!”

Motonari’s cackle rose in volume and pitch as he laughed at her bold - and foolish - move. But Kennyo’s sword armed dropped. 

“That’s right! You heard me! Cut it out!” 

That was perhaps not the best choice of words, Mitsuhide thought. But it seemed to work. At least, it brought a moment of calm as the monk and the pirate watched her. He calculated his next move should they resume the attack. At this distance, he could easily get his little one out the door, though it would leave him painfully open. Worth it, but he’d take a wound or two. Probably not enough to kill him. Not quickly. Plenty of time to take them both down …

The chatelaine put her fists to her hips, staring them down. Even Mouri felt the weight of her disapproval. His laughter died off. “You are acting like children. I thought this was a meeting of men.” One hand rose, finger extended like a weapon toward the Abbot. “And you! Aren’t you a monk? Attacking your host?” Her voice was hot with outrage. “Where are your manners?”

Kennyo took a step back, his eyes wide. “Are you … rebuking me?”

Her lips were set in a firm line, cheeks red with anger. Hot eyes swept Mitsuhide and Mouri up together. “And you! Don’t think this doesn’t apply to you. Did you want help? Or not?”

Had they not had an audience - and a deadly one at that - Mitsuhide would have kissed her. Battle-lust still sang in his veins and all that energy needed an outlet. He could imagine crushing her against the wall, his lips taking hers while his hands tore open that kimono to … he coughed. His little one was … entirely … too distracting.

She seemed oblivious to his thoughts as she crossed her arms. “Well? You have about three seconds to put up your weapons and prove to me that you are men. Otherwise I’ll - I’ll turn this party right around!”

Motonari’s lips turned up in a muted smile, unusual for him. Mitsuhide did not like the light in Mouri’s eyes as he regarded the chatelaine. After a long moment of silence, the pirate sheathed his sword and picked his pistol up. 

He put his own blade away and heard Kennyo do the same. He chuckled as she watched them obey her order. “To think, after everything it is you that now lectures me.” He bowed to her and then to his guests.

“Perfect,” she chirped, flashing the three men a tight smile. “I’ll get some tea.”

Mitsuhide could tell by the way she stepped toward the door that she was a breath away from falling over. Her firmness was an act. Convincing, but short-lived. He caught her by the elbow and helped her to the door. 

She leaned against him taking strength from his closeness.

He kissed her cheek and whispered. “I am sorry to put you in danger like that. It seems I - I lost my cool.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it? You never let anything disturb you before.” Her troubled expression broke his heart.

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t want you to think about that. My actions are mine alone. Only I bear any blame.” He bit at his lip before continuing. “I couldn’t handle seeing someone pull a weapon so close to you.”

Behind them, Kennyo cleared his throat. “Who is this young girl, Akechi?”

Mitsuhide turned, his arm still around his little mouse. “She is a princess of the Oda, the chatelaine of Azuchi castle and my - my fiancee.”

“Your …” The Abbot’s expression was one of surprise. His hard eyes focused on the chatelaine. “Young lady. I have a question for you.”

Motonari leaned back on the wall, looking as if this had been the outcome he wanted all along. “Finally ready to talk, eh?”

“Quiet. I’m not speaking to you.” Kennyo’s gaze did not waver. “Why are you here, girl? With Mitsuhide Akechi on the dawn of his march against the shogun?”

With a deep breath, the chatelaine stood up straight, removing herself from the warmth and support Mitsuhide offered. She met the Abbot’s eyes without flinching. “Officially, I’m here to get in Mitsuhide’s way. To stop him from being reckless.” She smiled wistfully. “At least, that’s my job until the battle starts. But up to that moment, I plan to be by his side.”

“I see.” Kennyo’s gravelled voice sounded uncertain, a tone that rarely came from the demon-monk. 

“If you’re done talking to my lit - ah, my fiancee, I’d like to speak with you about my proposal,” Mitsuhide interrupted.

The Abbot’s expression hardened. “I have put down my weapon at the request of this young woman. Do not take that for interest in whatever game you play, kitsune.”

Mitsuhide glanced at Mouri in annoyance. “I had hoped your former ally would put a little more effort into persuading you.”

“Pfft. Be thankful I even brought ‘im,” Motonari snorted.

Kennyo’s squared his shoulders. “I am leaving. Be warned that when I see you again, I will not show mercy.”

“Please. A moment more, Abbot Kennyo.” Mitsuhide thought courtesy and respect would buy him just a little more time to soften the monk to his plot. “You have reason to disdain an alliance with me, but you share a need to see the shogun dead.”

The Abbot raised one eyebrow.

“Your follower, the one killed in the Azuchi dungeons?” Mitsuhide assumed Kennyo would remember the recent loss. He saw the Abbot give a slight nod. “He was murdered on Ashikaga’s orders. Yoshiaki used that death to try and make it seem that you and I were connected.”

Kennyo’s low growl sounded more demon than man. 

The chatelaine nodded agreement. “Yes, that’s right. He admitted it at Honno-ji.”

Mitsuhide watched the Abbot carefully. This was delicate work. “That death came after days of gruesome torture as he was forced to lie, and falsely confess we were allies.”

“Why … why are you telling me what I already know?” The words tore from the Abbot’s throat, a rumble of warning like the snarl of a rabid dog.

This would either win him to their side or provoke a renewed attack. Mitsuhide took a small step forward, just to make sure he could easily push his little one out the door if it came to that. “What other agents of yours might the shogun already know about? Perhaps another spy in the Oda forces? One my informants tell me is currently pursuing the shogun as we speak?” The image of bright, troubled eyes and a sweet smile accompanied the words as Mitsuhide thought on the subject of their discussion. 

The Abbot’s expression shifted to one of surprise and barely suppressed rage.

Yes. Now they had him. Mitsuhide kept his expression neutral. “I am right, am I not? Your faithful pet, the one you snuck into Azuchi some time ago … he is the one you’ve set to hunt the shogun.”

Mouri chuckled. “Damn. You even know about the kid, huh?”

“You hellspawn,” Kennyo rumbled. He grabbed Mitsuhide by his clothes and lifted him up as if to shake him. 

Mitsuhide knew he’d won this round. “Perhaps? But as you may know, my memory is quite poor. I find myself often confused … forgetting all kinds of things …” The Abbot had only to accept his defeat now. “I suspect that as long as I have proper allies in my fight against the shogun, this little detail will have quite escaped me by the time I return to Azuchi.”

Kennyo did shake him then. Still refusing to see the inevitable conclusion of this meeting.

“Abbot … tell me, didn’t you come tonight because your own fight against Ashikaga was going harder than you expected? Didn’t you wish for some assistance? Be honest with yourself, if not with me.”

Motonari straightened. “Come on, Kennyo. It’s not like yer marryin’ the kitsune. This is all just temporary. We can kill Akechi the second we put the shogun down.”

“You are both vile men.” The Abbot lowered Mitsuhide to the ground and released his grip.

“An’ vicious, mad, bloodthirsty,” Mouri went on, his grin widening until his teeth shone.

Mitsuhide straightened his clothes. “Yes. We are all birds of a feather. And to kill a man who barely grants others their place as fellow humans, it falls to monsters like ourselves.”

 Kennyo’s nod of agreement was barely a tilt of his chin. “Do not expect camaraderie from me. The moment the shogun’s head leaves his neck, I will again seek Nobunaga’s life. And yours.” The twin fires of his eyes burned like banked coals.

“Your terms are accepted. Now. We have much planning to do.” At that, the three sat on the floor, together, but apart. Hands near weapons, tense shoulders, and exchanged terse words.

“I’ll ah, go get that tea then,” the chatelaine mumbled. 

Mitsuhide flashed her a small smile. He was so proud of her. And so troubled by her. How could one little mouse leave him such a mess?

Chapter Text

Motonari sauntered past the innkeeper with a grin. The man clearly knew something was going on, but he just bowed and went back to wiping down tables and ordering his staff around. The pirate had to wonder what a guy like him thought about the rough men filing through his entrance, carrying crates of gunpowder, firearms, swords, daggers, and other implements of war. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to bother him.

Maybe the world had finally gone mad. Fitting, considering his current allies. Only in a mad world would the demon monk, the god of deceit, and the traitorous kitsune be allies.

He carried just one package, a wooden box. So lightly burdened, Mouri bounded up the stairs. He could hear the little chatelaine ordering his men around, telling them where to set what and how. For such a naive little girl, she could get real bossy. He kinda liked it.

Motonari made it to the top of the stair just in time to see one of his men make a grab for the little Oda princess. The deckhand pinned her up to the wall, leering like she was a dock-front whore. 

“Want to tell me where I can put this,” the deckhand grabbed at his crotch suggestively.

She glared at him furiously, but her legs were shaking. “Through the rolling hole of a cheerio,” she spat. 

While neither Motonari or his men had any idea what that was, it was clearly an insult. The deckhand drew back to slap her, but Mouri caught his arm first.

“Whaddya think yer doing? Didn’t I tell ya to set tha boxes down and go?”

The deckhanded nodded. “Yeah, but boss, she said -”

He didn’t get to finish. Mouri let go of his hand and punched him in the throat. Hard enough to hurt, not enough to kill. “I didn’t ask fer an opinion.” His men took the hint and grabbed their friend, exiting quickly.

When they’d gone, the spicy little princess sagged against the wall. “Thanks Motonari. I was worried for a second.”

“Ya should still be worried,” he grinned. He closed the space between them, pushing her back against the wall, hard. 

“M-motonari. If Mitsuhide sees you, he will kill you.”

“The fox ain’t here, is he? So what’re you gonna do about it?” Motonari lowered his head to her neck, inhaling the smell of her. It was no wonder the kitsune warlord lost his mind for this girl. She was smart, stubborn, and she felt like heaven against his chest. Plus there was something sweet about her. A gentleness absent in most. It appealed to the darkness in him. 

The Oda princess considered a moment and then with a breath, slammed her forehead into Motonari’s jaw. The pain surprised him. She hadn't held back. He let go with a laugh. “That was good. Not good enough, if I really wanted ta hurt ya. But good.”

Her hands shook as she straightened her clothes. “So what, you were just trying to freak me out by being a creep?”

Mouri wasn’t familiar with that word exactly, but he got the meaning. It only made him grin wider. “Sure did. Yer smarter than ya look.” He shoved the box toward her. “Take this.”

She eyed the box with distrust, but took it from him. “It’s not full of, like, poisonous death toads or something? It won’t explode when I open it?”

“Nah, but that’s a good idea. Have ta remember that.” Motonari watched her, curious if she would take what he’d brought.

The princess carefully opened the box as if she didn’t quite believe it was safe, but once the sunlight hit the polished metal within, she gasped. Inside, lying on a stuffed cotton, a matched set matchlock rifle and dagger. The design was slimmer and lighter than the usual matchlock, and the metal was engraved with tiny flowers, which also decorated the knife hilt. 

“Motonari … “ she looked at him with wide eyes, wavering between shock and pleasure at the unexpected gift.

“Don’t ya look at me like that. Had ‘em lying around the boat. And ya need ta be able to protect yerself.” The pirate shrugged uncomfortably. 

She set the box on the table and hugged him. “Thank you. That was very nice.”

Motonari tensed. “Yeah. Ya better let go before yer fox shows up. Seems ta be the jealous sort.”

The princess dropped her arms and stepped back. “Still. I really appreciate it.”

“Ya can stop thanking me.” He turned away, unsettled. He hadn’t expected quite that reaction. “I’ll have tha boys bring by more powder and shot later. Be ready.”

Then he left, passing Mitsuhide in the hall. The kitsune gave him a flat stare. Clearly, he didn’t trust him, but then, Motonari didn’t trust himself either.

***

Mitsuhide watched Mouri hit the steps at a near-run, hurrying as if he was escaping something. And his face was red, gaze distracted. Strange.

The door to the his room was open, and the smell of gunpowder wafted out. Mitsuhide stepped in. His little mouse was bent over a wooden box on the table. She turned when he came in and hurried over to him.

“You’re back!”

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wider than normal, even for her. “Did I surprise you?” Mitsuhide studied her. Mussed hair, slightly disheveled kimono, nervously fiddling fingers. Something had happened and she was trying to hide it. Silly mouse.

“N-no! Of course you’re back! I just, I thought it would take longer.” She glanced back at the table then rushed forward to take his arm. “Look, Motonari’s men came today with more weapons. Are these what you were expecting?”

Mitsuhide let her divert his attention, curious what her end goal was. She showed him the crates of tanegashima, the swords and daggers, and armor. Her words spilled out in an anxious flow, repeating herself and stumbling through descriptions of the delivery.

Finally, she ran out of things to say and stared at the floor. “So, uhm, that looks, ah, about right?”

He took her chin in his hands and gently raised it to look at him. “The delivery is fine. You are not. Tell me what happened today.” 

“Nothing?” She blinked up at him, schooling her features to stillness. 

It might have been convincing if not for the way she shifted on her feet, and a glance back toward the table. Mitsuhide let go of her and turned back to see what the box was and why it seemed to concern her. 

What he found surprised him. 

A delicate kaiken and a slim-looking tanegashima. Both bore an imprint of flowers, delicate sakurasou blossoms. Mitsuhide lifted the matchlock. The stock was polished maple, the steel barrel rolled from thin metal sheets by a master. This was no common weapon. It felt light in his hands compared to a regular matchlock, and a little small. A tanegashima made for a woman.

“Did Motonari leave these?”

The chatelaine nodded. “He gave them to me.”

“Before or after manhandling you?” Mitsuhide watched her reaction carefully. 

She looked down. “After. He said I needed to be able to protect myself. He had to stop one of his men from … well, anyway, nothing happened. I didn’t want to mention it.”

Because he, Mitsuhide, could not keep his calm when it came to her. He felt a mix of guilt and jealousy. If anyone should give gifts to his little one, it should be him. And that flower … not that she would understand. But Mouri had to know that he would. Bastard. 

Mitsuhide set the weapon down and went to her. He took his little one into his arms and held her tight to his chest. “You must not hide things from me, little mouse. I want to know everything about you. Everything that happens to you. Even if you think it doesn’t matter, even if it might be … upsetting.”

Her arms twined around him, pulling her even closer. He could feel the beat of her heart in time with his own, and the rise and fall of her breath. It made him feel so frail for the first time since he’d taken up his place as the left hand of the Oda forces. Small in the face of this love that he held. Fragile in knowing how many ways it could break.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you right off. I just didn’t want you to worry.” She looked up at him. “I want you to know I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me when you go off to do what you need to. I can handle myself around men - even ones like Motonari.” 

Mitsuhide held her and let her words sink in. It helped, a little. He still wanted to smash the matchlock and snap the knife. Throw them in a gutter. Bury them. Along with the man that brought them. 

“I can tell you’re still angry with me,” his little one murmurred. Her voice was muffled against his chest. He could feel the tickle of her breath, the movement of her lips. 

“Never with you, little one.” He stroked her hair. 

She snuggled into him, her nose and chin pressing. “Then … at Motonari? Nothing really happened. One of his men got a little handsy and Mouri stopped him before I had to.”

Her voice was confident, certain of her skill. Mitsuhide had done everything he could to impart to her the ability to protect herself in exactly such situations, but she’d never really been tested. Maybe he worried for her unnecessarily. But he couldn’t help it. “Perhaps you should come with me when I run errands - just to be sure. I don’t like the thought of another man laying his hands on you.”

“Mmmm, now you sound almost jealous. Are you, Mitsu?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t help the way he growled the word, nor the surge of possessiveness he felt. 

She kissed the hollow just below his throat. “You shouldn’t be. There is no one in this world for me but you.”

“I know,” Mitsuhide grinned. “You promised to stay by my side, remember?” He sat down, pulling her into his lap. She fit against him perfectly. “But other men see you and desire you. And bring you tokens of love.” 

She giggled. “The gun? You can’t think Motonari - I mean - no - just no. He thinks I am some stupid little girl that is going to mess up your mission.”

“And you believe that means he does not also wish to bed you?” Mitsuhide’s eyes flashed gold and hot in the afternoon light. 

“I hope not.” She glanced over at the box. “If it bothers you, I can just get rid of them. I don’t need my very own gun. Any of the ones from our stockpile will do.”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No. Then he would know it got to me. He would see it as a little victory. No - you should keep them and use them. They are fine weapons.” He ran a finger along the curve of her ear. “Just remember that even if you carry a weapon with his sakurasou, it is my bellflower that engraves your heart.”

“Sakurasou? Is that his clan symbol?” She closed her eyes, enjoying his light touch. These moments were his and his alone. Seeing her in pleasure like this. 

“No. But he meant to express his desire for you. And that I would see it and know. He is testing me.” Mitsuhide smiled, and it was a wicked grin. He leaned down to place a little row of kisses along her neck. “Perhaps I should leave my own little message - and mark -” he nipped the skin just under her ear.

“M-mitsu! You already left a mark!” She pointed to the fading love bite half covered by her collar.

“Not obvious enough.” He kissed her forehead. “Maybe I should put one here?” Then he kissed the tip of her nose. “Or here?” 

“Ah! No! D-don’t you dare -”

“Or maybe a ring of them all around your neck.” 

His little mouse looked worried. “You can’t be serious. Mitsuhide - I might die if you do that. My heart would burst from the teasing alone!”

He laughed, feeling at last better. “I couldn’t risk that.” She was his, and the whole world would know it once he finished this mission. Mitsuhide promised himself that he would make her his wife and she would bear his name, his children, and his mark. 

“Good,” she smiled up at him. “But … that doesn’t mean you have to stop kissing me. I really liked it when your lips were - here - and here -” she pointed at spots on her neck. Then she got a mischievous look in her eye and brushed a hand over her breast. “Here too.”

“Mmmm, I see. Perhaps I should make a study of these spots. Compare your reaction when I kiss you elsewhere?” He let his hand caress her side, slipping down to her belly. 

“I support that research.” She shivered and her eyes took on a hungry light. 

“Then let’s begin.”

Chapter Text

Kennyo stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the girl. She was knelt down, cleaning one of the tanegashima. Vital, if you intended it to fire later. But seeing her, a creature of peace, cradling an instrument of death, was strange.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. As if he, a monk turned demon, had any ground to criticize. This world made monsters of them all. Even kind little girls who still shuddered at the thought of harming someone.

The abbot cleared his throat to let her know he was there. “Neither Mitsuhide nor Motonari have returned?”

She still gave a little jump at the sound of his voice. “Ah! No! I mean - no, not yet.”

Kennyo entered the room. As he did, the girl’s posture stiffened. The muscles in her shoulders bunched tight, and her jaw clenched. Not an inappropriate reaction to a demon, but it still made him feel a spike of shame. For whatever reason, he did not want this girl to fear him. Perhaps Ranmaru’s reports were to blame. Yes. They’d given him an idealistic portrait of the chatelaine. One that couldn’t be wholly accurate.

He frowned at her and at his own reaction. Best to get to the point. “I’ve found the shogun. He is hiding with a daimyo just outside of Kyoto. Take note.”

She set the tanegashima aside and stood. Then hurried to the desk to pull out paper, brush and ink. “Ready!”

The abbot sat as far from her as he could. Perhaps with distance between them she would … Kennyo didn’t finish the thought. He set his staff down and adjusted his robes. “My informants spoke with several servants of the daimyo, confirming that he had a guest. The descriptions match, and one overheard the name Ashikaga.” He continued, providing the level of detail he knew Mitsuhide would require to plan, pausing as he went to give the girl time to write.

She smiled as she took down his report. A lock of hair fell forward on to her cheek, and she pushed it back, leaving a little ink smear in its place.

Kennyo was reminded of the children he’d taught at the temple. It made him want to protect her - to tell her to leave while she could, lest her innocence be tainted by the likes of him, the kitsune, and their pirate accomplice.

Of course he said none of those things. But he could not help falling into memory of better times.

When he finished, the chatelaine looked up at him to confirm there was no more to write.

“That is everything. You did well.” His cheeks ached as his lips turned up in a soft, paternal smile. An expression he had not worn in so long that his body had forgotten what it felt like.

The girl blushed and ducked her head. “Ah, it - it wasn’t anything special.”

Kennyo watched her reaction. Humility, gratitude for the compliment … He was struck again by the strangeness of finding someone like her here. Though he knew it was wiser to simply leave, he could not help but ask. “Why has a woman like you twined your fate with that of the kitsune?” He leaned forward, locking his gaze with hers. “You will never have an easy life with him.”

Though she could have, the chatelaine did not break eye contact. She gave a small, gentle smile. “He’s more important to me than being comfortable.”

“You unfortunate creature.” Kennyo sighed. “You cannot know all of the atrocities he has committed. The horrors done by his hand or at his behest.”

The girl’s shoulders straightened. “Mitsuhide makes no secret of his past. I learned about the things he has done when he trained me. I accept him just as he is - his horrible side and his gentleness together. I don’t separate the people I love into pieces and decide which parts are worthy and which not.”

It was, Kennyo had to admit, a good answer. And an unexpected one. Yet … how could a woman love someone with so much blood on his hands? It was like a compassionate spirit holding to a demon. An impossibility. “I cannot understand you.”

She did not answer, and Kennyo felt the gap between them grow wider. Perhaps there simply was no answer.

The abbot stood. “Forgive me young lady.” It had to be said, but he could admit in this moment, some regret. “I understand, at least, how important that man is to you. But one day I will come for his life.”

Kennyo expected her to be angry, or perhaps frightened. But she only shook her head and smiled. “You can’t have it, you know.”

He did not want her to see his stunned expression, or the battle in his soul. Kind monk and demon, twisting his heart until it bruised and tore. The abbot turned and left, hurrying down the stairs and into the unforgiving light of the bright, afternoon sun.

***

Mitsuhide toyed with the letter in his hands, folding and unfolding it. He had no right to destroy it, but if he burned it and only he knew … No. He’d promised his little mouse as much honesty as he could manage.

“Most beautiful flower, I will treasure your letter until the day my heart stops, and perhaps beyond even then.” The opening line caught his eye. Again. Yoshimoto was good with words. At least, compliments and confessions aside, the Imagawa clan leader agreed to their plan.

The forces of Azuchi and Echigo would meet in mock battle for a time. Long enough to draw the shogun’s eyes. The letters confirming the plan were already enroute, and the rumors set to burn their way to Ashikaga’s ears. With luck, it would be enough to give them an opening. And with more luck than he had any right to, the false conflict would not lead to unnecessary casualties.

“I can see your sweet spirit in the gentle curves of ink, and feel your kind heart through every word.”

Well, perhaps one casualty would be alright.

Mitsuhide folded the letter up and stuck it in his pocket. Reading it again was not … beneficial. He would deliver it to his little one, as asked.

When he returned to their rooms, his little one was waiting for him. Her smile and “Welcome home!” was like warm sake to a chilled body. Mitsuhide walked to her and put his arms around her waist. He pulled her close for a kiss, and in the taste of her lips, he lost himself for just a few, sweet moments.

“I missed you,” she sighed and laid her head on his chest when their kiss ended. He hoped she could not hear how fast she made his heart beat.

“And I, you.” He took the letter out and looked at its deep-creased folds. Then, with a steadying breath, he held it out to her. “This arrived for you.”

His little mouse took the letter. “What? What’s this about?”

“It is from Yoshimoto.” He schooled his expression to neutrality, hiding his unhappiness at handing the missive over.

“Oh? Does this mean -”

Mitsuhide nodded. “He communicated our proposal to Echigo and they have accepted. Azuchi has already mustered troops and marches now to the agreed upon location.”

She looked to the desk and back to him. “Kennyo was by earlier. He left information on Ashikaga’s whereabouts. Do you want to read it?”

“I will. Later. I am sure it only confirms what Kyubei discovered. The shogun is hiding so near to us that -” he stopped, realizing the import of the rest of his words. He would need to leave. Tonight, or maybe dawn, at the latest. His throat closed tight and for a moment, Mitsuhide felt he couldn’t breathe. He would be leaving her here, alone. While he went to assassinate Ashikaga. He might not come back. Anything could happen to her while he was away …

“Love, what is it?” His little one could feel the tension in him, and sense his sudden anxiety. She dropped the letter she held to reach for him. Yoshimoto’s words fell to the ground, forgotten.

There was no avoiding it. He had his duty. And if he failed, more than his life or hers were forfeit. Mitsuhide looked at her and forced himself to relax, to breathe. “We will depart tonight. And I won’t return until the shogun is no more.”

She took a shaky breath. “Tonight is - is so soon!”

He smiled gently and tapped the tip of her nose. “Don’t look so sad. Didn’t I tell you that all I want is to know you are smiling, far from the conflict. Safe and happy.”

“I know.”

His little one still looked miserable. Mitsuhide sighed. This was more difficult than he anticipated. For himself and for her. He gently lowered her to sit with him on the floor, and pulled her back against his chest. She tried to turn her head to look at him but he stopped her with a kiss just below her ear. “All I want you to worry about while I am gone is yourself. The greatest harm I could ever suffer would be leaving -”

The words wouldn’t come. Just thinking of her hurt left his mind in turmoil and his heart a gaping hole.

She turned until she could see him, and this time he let her. Though it wasn’t good for her to see such need in his eyes. He had to be strong - for her - and keep smiling. His little one didn’t speak, but she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. And traced a fingertip along his jaw.

“I should consult with Kennyo and Motonari before I leave,” he said, words and heart pulling against each other.

“All right.” Her hand dropped away from him, and she stood. “I’ll get you packed.”

Mitsuhide wanted to say more. He wanted to pull her back into his lap and kiss her. Wanted more than that … to touch and taste her every curve, and imprint those memories in his mind so that, in his time away he could relive this night.

But she was already walking to the desk. Her back to him.

“I’ll return soon.”

His little one nodded, and glanced toward him as he walked to the door. Her eyes were damp and wide. Holding back tears. Again.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide found Motonari in gambling house, as expected. He looked to be having a very good time, but at the promise of violence to come, he was easy to persuade.

“We’re gonna march on tha shogun tonight, huh? ‘Bout time. My gun is gettin’ rusty with all tha waiting!” Motonari walked beside the kitsune warlord, almost bouncing. “I can send my men over to get tha guns and powder in tha mornin’. It’ll take that long ta get there and set a camp. Too bad we can’t just rush tha castle an’ get tha party started tonight!”

It was strange to think the man genuinely enjoyed fighting. For Mitsuhide, battles and killing were a means to an end, but he never sought them out. Still, it was good at least that the pirate was on his side. He’d rather point this avatar of destruction at a target than to be the target.

“Yer awful quiet, fox. Get in a tiff with tha woman?” Mouri chuckled. “Can’t imagine why.”

Mitsuhide gave the pirate a thin, sharp smile. He couldn’t let the man goad him, not tonight. Not with so much on the line. “My little mouse is fine. It is not easy for her to stay here while I go to fight.”

“Huh. Ya sure that’s all?”

The man was too damn perceptive. But they said madmen often were. Mitsuhide chose to ignore the comment.

Kennyo was staying in a widow’s home at the edge of the market. Of course, Mitsuhide was not supposed to know that - but the abbot knew he knew, and his arrival should not overly alarm the demon monk.

He sped them in that direction. The sooner the three were on their way, the less chance to slip and break this fragile alliance. It had to hold until Ashikaga’s head left his body behind. That was what Mitsuhide focused on. Not the last look he’d shared with his little one. He couldn’t think about the tears in her eyes, or the way his heart felt torn in two when he considered leaving her behind.

“What are you doing here, kitsune?” Kennyo’s deep voice came from a shadowed walkway several doors before the widow's home where the demon monk was expected.

Mitsuhide kept his demeanor unruffled, though the voice startled him. “Looking for you.”

The abbot stepped out into the moon’s silver glow. His scar was a black crevasse across his face, a crack in the universe through which hell could be seen. His eyes burned with a dark and lightless hate. “You came to betray me?”

“He came ta tell ya we’re leavin’! Time ta make tha shogun pay fer ruinin’ my fun.” Motonari put his hands on his hips and leaned back on his heels. “Ya comin’ or did ya decide ta tuck yer tail and go back to prayin’?”

Kennyo growled, a low rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. “Demons do not pray, nor do good men pray for the deaths of others. If it is time, then let us go. In silence.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “Do you need time to pack?”

“I have all my worldly possessions on me now. And what I need most is always to hand.” He tapped the bottom of his staff, and the dark street rang with the sound or metal on stone.

“Then I will meet you both at the edge of town when the moon touches the mountain tops.” Mitsuhide gave them a nod.

“Goin’ ta smooth things over with yer lady? Ya know if ya need some help, I -”

“Will be silent because your voice grates my nerves as surely as a stone in my sandal.” Kennyo interrupted Mouri with a grimace.

Mitsuhide gave the monk a look of gratitude before hurrying off to the inn.

His little one was gathering the last of his things when he arrived. And seemed in much better spirits. She even smiled as he came in, though there was still an edge of sadness to it. “Everything is packed and ready to go.”

“Good. Mouri will be sending people for the guns tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I will.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say in that moment. Promises he couldn’t keep. Words of love that would only make it hurt more to be apart. Mitsuhide was good at speaking - when he was playing a role. When it was the truth of his own heart, he found it hard to put the feelings into words. He was no poet. Not like Yoshimoto.

His eyes went to the floor, where the letter had fallen. It wasn’t there anymore, but he spotted the creased paper soon enough. Sitting on the desk, open. Was that the reason for her mood? Had Yoshimoto’s poetries cheered her where he could only seem to make her cry?

In silence, he picked up his things and together, they went to saddle the horses. They, at least, seemed happy to finally be traveling somewhere. Being cooped up in the stables was hard on war-trained mounts.

“Can I come with you? As far as the meeting point?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “Of course.” He couldn’t help the bitter twist to his smile. “I wouldn’t deny you that.”

Neither of them said much on the ride through town. The air felt heavy, and it seemed wrong to push sound out into that darkness. Though unspoken words churned in his chest.

The chatelaine looked lost in thought as she rode. Her posture in the saddle, relaxed. Her eyes forward, looking at some distant point and trusting her mount to navigate the empty streets. It made Mitsuhide proud to see how far she’d come. How much she learned. He held back the compliment though, worried what other words would escape with it, should he speak.

Soon enough, they passed the city gates. The last of the dim torchlight fell behind them, and ahead lay only rolling fields and an endless expanse of stars. Mitsuhide felt lost in it. He had messed this up, as he’d known he would. Giving his love only tears. If Yoshimoto could make her smile with only words on a paper … perhaps …

The dark figures of Motonari and Kennyo took shape in the darkness ahead. Their horses stood in the field nearby, heads down and grazing. Mitsuhide stopped as they got close enough to make out their allies’ faces. He turned to his little one, feeling brittle like rusted iron. “This is as far as you may come. Turn your horse and go back to the inn.”

Not the parting words of a lover but right now he couldn’t trust himself to be himself. He needed this mask. The kitsune warlord, heartless and cold. It would hold him together. It had to.

“I will.”

Motonari scoffed. “Is that all yer gonna say? Ya know, in the west they kiss to say goodbye. Ya should try it! Maybe slip her some tongue -”

“Keep your vulgar thoughts to yourself,” Kennyo rumbled. “Your bellowing is disturbing the horses.” He threw the pirate an icy glare. Without looking away from Mouri, he said, “Mitsuhide - we will go on ahead. Do not keep us waiting.” Then he grabbed Mouri’s arm and pulled him toward their mounts.

Mitsuhide didn’t know if he should be grateful or resentful of the courtesy. Now he was alone with his love, and his heart trembled near to shattering. Conflicting emotions tore at him. Jealousy and worry, love, anxiety, doubt … he couldn’t let any of it show.

His little one dismounted, beckoning for him to follow. Reluctantly, he did.

Her face was angelic in the starlight. Like a spirit. The silver moon shone in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Mitsuhide, I want you to have this.”

It was hard to look away from her beauty to see what she held. When he did, his eyes widened. “This -!” The bellflower hairpin. He felt stunned, frozen in place. What did this mean? Why? His gaze lifted to meet hers.

She reached for him with her empty hand and touched his cheek. “This is my prayer for victory. Kyubei told me that’s what it symbolizes.” She pressed it into his hand. “I want you to keep it with you while we are apart. Don’t lose it though! It’s my only precious bellflower.”

Her smile was radiant.

“You are a wonder.” Mitsuhide could not stop a tear escaping his eyes, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could fall. “I thought … I thought you would wish me goodbye in tears. Or -” Or tell him she’d had enough of this life, that the shadows around him were more than she could take.

His little mouse nodded. “I might have but I came to a few decisions about myself. Most importantly, that I’m tough enough to be by your side no matter what.”

He blinked. “You … decided that as you packed? And … read that letter?”

“Yep.” She laughed softly. “It’s funny, actually. I was beginning to doubt myself. I am not the kind of strong you are. I am not a warrior. But I am strong like me - you taught me that. To trust myself and my ideals.”

Her eyes were so warm. Mitsuhide felt himself leaning into her touch.

“That letter from Yoshimoto reminded me of the things I’ve done. And all the lessons you taught me so that I could survive in this world. We make each other stronger.”

Mitsuhide put his arms around her, still holding the bellflower hairpin tightly. “All of that, you decided in such a short time, hm?”

She laughed again and nuzzled his chest. “It was already inside me, I’d just forgotten how to use it. And now I can access that strength when I need to.”

He stroked her hair, enjoying the closeness. His heartbeat was thundering in his chest, but the anxiety was fading. Leaving behind it only his love for her and the promise of a life together. How had he lost sight of that, even for a moment?

“I want you to remember your strength too. You don’t need to burn yourself out to protect me. Use your strength to fight your hardest. I will be here, waiting for you. Safe.”

Mitsuhide whispered her name into the night, full of his love for her. His heart in each syllable.

“Make sure you come back to me, Mitsuhide.”

His lips curled up in a genuine smile. “You surprised me again, little one.” He pulled away enough to see her expression. “Instead of tears, my weepy little mouse wishes me good fortune. With a smile like the sun.”

“Hey! Did you call me weepy?” Her laughter rang out, fierce and full of joy. “I’ll make you weep for that!”

“Mmm, and it is that fiery tongue and heart that never breaks that made me fall in love with you. Thank you for reminding me.” He tucked the bellflower beneath his armor to keep it safe. Then lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her wrist, feeling the beat of her heart through her warm skin. It matched the rhythm of his own.

She shivered at the touch and her cheeks pinked. A reaction he loved to see. It made him wish for homecoming sooner rather than later.

“You’ve shown me resolve, beloved. And as your future husband, I must show you I can do at least as much. I will return to you.”

His little one studied his face for a moment, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

“You should save those words for my return.” He felt his grin widen but he couldn’t help himself. “Because when I do, I will give you cause to say them so much that you grow tired of repeating yourself.”

He pulled her close once more, wanting to feel her warmth a little longer. Only knowing that Kennyo and Motonari stood a little ways off stopped him from doing more than holding her. “I promise you,” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “when I return, I will tease you mercilessly. I will tease you until all you can think of is my touch. And I still won’t stop …”

She took a deep, trembling breath. “I am looking forward to it. And you know … you aren’t the only one that can tease!” Then she stepped back. “I should let you leave. Good luck, Mitsuhide.”

His smile held his gratitude and love. With one last wave, he watched her mount her horse and turn back for the city gates.

“That’s one wide grin yer wearin’” Motonari chuckled as he approached. “Ya slipped her some -”

Kennyo’s growl cut him off before he could finish. “Speed and silence.”

“Yes, let’s not keep the shogun waiting,” Mitsuhide agreed. He should have been tired, but he felt full of vigor. This would not be easy - but he knew they could do it.

The three men mounted and rode into the night.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide, Kennyo, and Motonari only took a few hours to reach the estate where Yoshiaki hid. It was a beautiful home sitting atop a steep, rocky incline. Orchards and gardens lay spread out below it, the plum, cherry, and peach trees blooming in a profusion of delicate petals. The air was sweet here, and the night, silent.

The three men looked at each other. It was time to shatter the fragile peace. The shogun would know of them before the sun rose. Kennyo melted into the darkness, off to direct his Ikko Ikki. They would stop any servants, merchants, or villagers from entering or leaving. Motonari slunk off as well, to direct his pirates to take out any watchmen or guards on patrol.

Which left Mitsuhide to his own task. Coordinating with his contacts inside the daimyo’s estate. He hurried to check his message caches, where the servants were instructed to leave him information. Kyubei had no trouble turning the vassals against Ashikaga - the shogun did most of that work himself.

He found a small collection of scribbled missives from the shogun’s scribe. Notes on how much food the estate had, how many guards, and where they got clean water. Mitsuhide smiled as he noted how little of the daimyo’s stores remained after hosting the shogun. Even in hiding, Ashikaga had no sense of moderation or gratitude. Give it a week with no new supplies, and the estate would be left eating bugs and boiling leathers for soup.

Disturbingly, the scribe mentioned a spy - a ninja - in Yoshiaki’s employ. He wrote, “This man frightens me. He appears without a sign and disappears with no trace. He knows things he should not.”

Mitsuhide didn’t appreciate this sort of surprise, but he didn’t think this ninja could do much to change the outcome of this mission. And Kyubei hadn’t mentioned him so he couldn’t be that great of a threat. Still, it bore consideration.

When he returned to their base of operation, Kennyo’s forces were already setting up camp. Small fires burned cheerily between bedrolls, and rough laughter rang out at unexpected intervals. It felt like a proper war camp, though the men in it could not be more different than the warriors of the Oda.

Fallen monks, scarred and lean from years of hiding and fighting. Pirates with strange accents and clothing, sun-brown and smelling of salt and fish. And three devils at their head, a madman, a demon, and a kitsune. Mitsuhide couldn’t help a small laugh as he imagined Hideyoshi’s face in the midst of such a gathering. And the man wondered why Mitsuhide left him out of his plans. That mother hen would be beside himself here.

“You seem to be in good spirits, kitsune.” Kennyo’s low voice broke through the chatter with ease.

Mitsuhide turned to regard the abbot. “I am. We are about our work and the end is in sight.”

“Yet there are already complications.”

“You know of the shogun’s ninja?”

Kennyo nodded.

Mitsuhide let his smile grow thin and sharp. “There is nothing he can do that we cannot counter. I have taken him into account.”

“Spoken like a true kitsune.” The abbot rolled his shoulders. “And you are now focused on this mission? No distractions?”

There was a tremor to his voice, a tone that was almost gentle. The difference between his earlier statement and the slight emphasis he put on ‘distractions’ was striking. Mitsuhide could not miss it, nor the way Kennyo’s gaze slid away from his.

“You mean my little mouse.”

Kennyo’s silence was answer enough.

“She reminded me of her strength before we left. I am not worried about her. I know she will be waiting for me …” He trailed off, not wanting to reveal more of his heart to an enemy.

The monk said nothing for a long moment, as if waiting for the rest of Mitsuhide’s words - or perhaps listening to the unspoken parts that voiced themselves in softened breath and a racing heart. “You will go back to her then, with blood on your hands.”

“There was blood on my hands before she met me. And I imagine there will be more to come. She knows what I am.”

Kennyo’s sigh was a tired one. Not from the day’s work, but from the weight of responsibility that sat heavy on his shoulders. “Do you not want to be a better man for her? She deserves more.”

It was impossible to miss the paternal overtones in the abbot’s question and for a heartbeat, Mitsuhide was taken aback. He hadn’t expected the demon monk to have any gentleness left in him, nor room to worry about one sweet, naive, little mouse. “I expected Mouri to fall victim to my little one, but I didn’t think you had it in you, abbot.”

The demon monk turned on him quicker than a breath, fires of familiar rage burning in his eyes. “Do not compare me to that vulgar beast.”

Mitsuhide made a calming gesture. “Of course not. Only that with your single-minded pursuit of vengeance, I didn’t expect you to be taken with her.”

Kennyo’s frown remained but the flames settled to glowing embers in his gaze. “I am not … taken.” He looked away again, as if he wanted to hide his expression from the kitsune warlord. “Consider my concerns a - a remnant from my work as an abbot. I still wish to see the innocent protected. Even from themselves.”

It was just like her to have stirred the heart of the demon, Mitsuhide thought. And she probably didn’t even realize it. “I cannot promise to change what I am. I have told her as much.”

“Then you will drag her into the darkness with you.” Kennyo’s reply was quiet and in his voice there was a world of regret.

For what, Mitsuhide could only guess. Had the monk pulled an innocent into his bloody path? Perhaps. “You don’t give her enough credit, abbot. Her light is stronger than my darkness. When I am with her …”

Kennyo shook his head. “It isn’t enough. Strong or not, the death and pain you cause hurt her. I can see it already. Fresh wounds, tears wept. She will hide it from you as Ranm- as others I have known try to hide their grief from me.”

Mitsuhide realized what sorrow ate at the abbot’s heart. But his little mouse was different - and - even if not, she’d chosen to walk beside him. Honoring her choice was part of loving her. He started to reply, but a nearby gunshot interrupted the conversation.

“Watchmen?” The demon monk’s expression was stony as he hurried toward the sound.

Mitsuhide walked beside him. They made it just outside the ring of light when one of Motonari’s men drug a corpse in. A young man, wearing the daimyo’s colors. A sword at his hip.

“He never saw me comin’,” the pirate laughed. His matchlock smoked from where it lay on his back, wreathing the man’s head in grey.

“Were there more?” Kennyo’s eyes narrowed as he sought to see into the night.

“Nah. We got the rest of ‘em quiet like. This one was tryin’ ta sneak into camp though. Thought he’d be a hero.” The pirate snorted.

“You should have taken him down quietly.” Mitsuhide frowned. “Now the shogun knows he is under attack. I had hoped for a little more time to arrange our forces and lay out the plan for our siege.”

Motonari came up behind them, glancing from the body to his man, and then at his allies. “Ah, come on! He’d know we were here soon enough. Now we can celebrate proper! Come on, men. Let’s sing ta make their hearts quake!”

The pirates broke into song, violent words set to pleasant melody.

Kennyo and Mitsuhide exchanged looks. This had best be a short siege, that shared glance said. Else they’d be at each other’s throats.

Mitsuhide left the pirates to their song and drink, and found a quieter spot at the edge of the estate’s orchard. From here, he could look up and see the manor. He wondered if Yoshiaki was looking out and wondering about the gunshot, and the voices that drifted up to him on the night’s breeze.

He meant to focus on the next steps in this assassination, but found himself instead thinking of his little one. He imagined her on their shared futon, eyes closed, her lips turned up in a slight smile. “I hope you dream of me,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Kyubei rubbed a hand over the skin of his head. It felt cold in the pre-dawn breeze, unused to being exposed. Shaving the top of his head was a necessary sacrifice to ensure he wasn’t recognized. Between that and the scraggly beginnings of a beard, his own mother would have trouble picking him out from the other guards.

For his patrol, he’d picked a spot near enough to the shogun’s chamber to overhear most of what went on within, but out of Ashikaga’s line of sight. Perfect to keep a low profile and gather intelligence. Mitsuhide already had the bulk of what Kyubei knew - all written in cipher and left in the cache in the orchard. Things were going as planned. Or … they had been.

This morning he could tell something was amiss. Instead of the usual morning routine of servants going in to prepare the shogun’s clothes and food, to bathe and dress Ashikaga, the hall was eerily still and silent. Yoshiaki sat alone in the audience hall, his eyes red from lack of sleep, his face set in hard, angry lines.

Kyubei expected more activity, especially after the discovery yesterday that the estate was surrounded by enemies, isolated from help. This stillness was troubling. It meant he’d missed something. He didn’t have long to wonder what.

A man hurried into the hall from one of the secret doors nearby. This one let out near the guardhouse, but the man wasn’t a guard. He was Yoshiaki’s messenger - a man Kyubei felt certain was ninja. His presence here had not been a pleasant discovery, and it seemed Kyubei’s fears were now realized.

The messenger carried a woman slung over his shoulder. Though her face was badly bruised, and hair hid her features, Kyubei recognized her. The chatelaine, and his lord’s fiancée.

It was difficult to resist his first urge to disembowel Yoshiaki’s man, take the girl, and run. His orders were to infiltrate and inform - if he acted now, he’d be no use to his lord. He had to be smart about this. Kyubei followed the messenger into the shogun’s chamber.

The chatelaine was tossed to the floor like a sack of rice. Her hands were tied tight at the wrist, anchored by rope to her feet. Kyubei could see where she’d begun to bleed. He wanted to tell her he was here, that she would be alright. But instead he knelt beside her, quickly checking her for weapons just as a guard would do.

Ashikaga’s eyes went wide as he took in his prize. He didn’t even seem to see the messenger or Kyubei. “Well done.” He stood and walked from the dais. He stopped at her feet, an unpleasant smile curling his lips. “Leave me.”

“Yes, excellency.” The messenger bowed low, and backed away.

Kyubei knew he would be expected to go to, but he couldn’t simply leave her here. Not like this. Not with the shogun ready to visit every humiliation on her, flesh and spirit. He backed away to the door, but stayed beside it, as if he would protect the shogun from intrusion.

The chatelaine glared up at him from one eye, then shifted her gaze to the shogun. The other eye was swelled shut, bruised the color of overripe plums. She struggled up to sit on her knees. Had she not been gagged, she would have spoken. Or spit at him.

Yoshiaki regarded her with disdain. “Keep your head down! How dare you raise your eyes to me without my permission.” His voice was a strained hiss.

“Mmf-ing mummll,” she growled back at him. She didn’t look down either. Somehow, Kyubei didn’t think that was an apology. He couldn’t help a small burst of pride at how she held her own, even now, knowing what it might cost her.

“What insolence!” Yoshiaki slapped her with his fan. Her cheek reddened from the blow, as much from humiliation as the slap. “Even animals have better manners.” He stared down at her and shook his head. “To think this pitiful creature is the result of lax rule under Nobunaga.”

The chatelaine tried to reach for Ashikaga - to do what, Kyubei could only imagine - but she couldn’t even come close.

Yoshiaki pushed her with one slippered foot and she fell back, smacking her head on the floor. “Peasants exist to serve their betters with good behavior. You are proof I am needed to lead this land back onto the right path.”

Kyubei held himself rigidly still. He dared not act unless absolutely necessary, but this was harder than he expected. All he could do was watch Ashikaga for now. But if he looked like he might kill the chatelaine, then he would die.

“As the traitor’s fiancée, I am certain you are aware he has this castle surrounded?” Yoshiaki paced slowly around the fallen girl, circling her.

“Ahh mmoe mme mlls uuh,” she said around the gag.

The shogun laughed, his pitch high and false. “You should hope that he cares for you enough not to get you killed, if you hope for anything.” He squatted down, staring intently at her face. “For each day he keeps me under siege, I will send him a piece of you. Should we start here?” He brushed a hand over her lips.

“Ah, excellency? Fingers or - or ears are traditional,” Kyubei stuttered. Not that he wanted her to lose those either. But he felt he had to intervene.

Ashikaga glanced up, his expression one of annoyance. “You must belong to the daimyo here. My men know when to keep silent.”

Kyubei bowed low and stepped back to his position. Every muscle in his body was taut and ready to spring into action at the first sign of violence from the shogun. He didn’t think his chances were good if he was forced to act now, but there was no way he was going to stand and watch Yoshiaki cut a piece off the chatelaine.

Whatever the shogun planned to do next, the chatelaine changed his mind. She brought her bound hands up to slam into his chest, rocking him back a step.

Yoshiaki straightened, his face crimson with rage. “You touched me! You …” He snarled incoherently, unable to speak an insult great enough for this affront.

Kyubei saw his opening. It was a risk, but worth it. He lunged forward and grabbed the chatelaine by the shoulders, slipping her onto her belly. He set a knee on her back, though he kept his weight off her. “Shall I kill her, excellency?”

“No.” Yoshiaki was literally shaking with rage. “I need her alive until that kitsune arrives.”

“Then let me humble her for you.” Kyubei leered down at the captive girl and licked his lips suggestively.

After a moment, Yoshiaki nodded. Though his face was still red, a slight smile returned to his lips. “Yes. Take her and let the men use her. You may do whatever you want, so long as she lives. Bring her back to me tonight, properly humbled.”

Kyubei bowed. “It will be my pleasure.” Then he picked her up and put her over his shoulder.

The chatelaine kicked at him, cursing from under her gag. Beneath her show of anger, she trembled too. With fear.

It was a long way to the storage sheds, but Kyubei hurried there as fast as he could. It wasn’t that fast, not with a squirming chatelaine on his shoulder. He passed a few of the castle servants and one sleepy guard, but no one seemed to take note or care that he had a bound woman with him. When he got to one of the empty buildings, he pulled open the door and stepped inside.

The chatelaine had quieted down by now, but she was glaring at him like an angry snake. Kyubei set her gently against the back wall. He tore her kimono, baring one of her shoulders. The skin there was bruised too, he thought darkly. And he removed her gag.

“Mitsuhide will kill you too,” she said hoarsely. Her lips and tongue were swollen.

“I’m sure he will.” Kyubei gave her a drink of water, which she accepted reluctantly. Then he reached for her bound hands.

“Don’t touch me,” she yelped and tried to push him away.

Kyubei stepped back and frowned. He didn’t want to reveal himself to her - not when there was still danger for both of them. But he needed to get those bonds off her too. “Look - I’m just going to untie you. Nothing else. For now.” He gave an evil smile. “I’m on duty until noon. After that …”

The chatelaine spat at him. “I would die first.”

“And you might.” Kyubei grabbed her arms and held her still while he cut the binds from them and from her feet.

She rubbed her wrists, hurt and angry and clearly exhausted. Despite that, he was fairly sure she was planning to try to escape. Already figuring out how to get past him, and whether she thought she could run.

“You will stay here. Quietly,” Kyubei told her.

“Or what?”

“Or I … I follow my orders.” He narrowed his eyes and slowly looked her over. “I follow them right now. And when I finish with you, I have a lot of friends.” Kyubei felt disgusted with himself and how well he was playing this role. But he had to keep her quiet, even if it meant terrifying her.

The chatelaine pulled her knees up to her chest. Fear and anger played across her face as she tried to decide how to respond. “I’m not … not afraid of you. Or your friends. Mitsuhide will come and he will stop you and your disgusting lord.”

Kyubei smirked. “We’ll see.” Then he set down his water gourd and went out the door. He closed it and tied it shut. Then he carried some heavy crates to set in front of the door too. Just enough to dissuade anyone from trying to go in. “Girl, you should stay very quiet now. I am leaving. If someone else finds you before I come back, it will be worse for you.”

The chatelaine was silent.

***

Motonari sprawled against a tree trunk, listening with half an ear to the day’s reports from his scouts.

“I thought I heard a woman just before sunrise. Might o’ been a rabbit …” He was saying.

“Ya can’t tell the difference between a rabbit and a girl?”

The scout gave a half-hearted shrug. “Well … it sounded like a woman. But there ain’t women out here so it couldn’t be.”

With a look of disgust, Motonari motioned the scout away. It seemed someone managed to get through their barricade. Though he had no proof to speak of, the pirate knew without a doubt the little Oda princess was involved. But he needed more to go on than his gut. The abbot and the kitsune wouldn’t act on that alone.

He was about to go looking when Kennyo walked into camp. The abbot’s frown was deep, his jaw set in hard lines.

“Mitsuhide!” Kennyo called in his low, grumbling voice.

The kitsune stirred from his tent after a moment. Despite his wrinkled clothes and mussed hair, he managed to look elegant. “What has happened?”

The abbot tossed him a sandal.

Mitsuhide caught it, his expression turning from annoyance to unhappy surprise.

Motonari tilted his head, curiosity peaked. “What is that?”

“A woman’s sandal, with a broken strap.” Kennyo replied. “It was discovered near the castle late this morning. It was not there earlier.”

This was about the location Motonari’s man had heard the ‘rabbit.’ He tried hard not to grin. If anything would get this battle started, this was it. Finally.

“There’s no doubt,” Mitsuhide said softly, turning the small shoe over in his hands. “This is … it belongs to my little mouse.”

“Huh. So Ashikaga’s got somebody with enough skill to get past us, carrying a hostage even.” He couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice. “Be real fun to kill that one.”

Kennyo ignored Motonari. “Will he negotiate for peace in exchange for her life?”

“Negotiate? The shogun?” Mouri laughed. The idea of that man asking for anything was hilarious. Ashikaga didn’t ask - he simply took. “More like he’ll use her as a human shield.”

“What is your plan, Mitsuhide?” The abbot waited to see what the kitsune warlord would say.

Motonari waited as well, if less patiently.

“I believe our enemy has just given us a reason to stop playing nice with him.” Mitsuhide’s golden eyes glowed with the heat of his anger. They fixed on Mouri. “It appears your boredom is at an end.”

“Finally!” Motonari didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He turned on his heel, giving his men the signal to arm up and get moving.

Kennyo looked surprised. “You would abandon strategy and attack now?”

“We cannot delay. Not even for dawn. I won’t keep my darling little one waiting for me.” His mouth turned up at the edges in a sharp smile.

“You don’t sound as desperate as I thought you would,” Kennyo replied. It was impossible to know what he thought about that.

Mitsuhide nodded once. “I have never been calmer. Now come. We must use whatever means necessary to rescue her - and to make the shogun regret his actions.”

The abbot turned to rally his men. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

Motonari didn’t worry too much about Mitsuhide’s state of mind, or the abbot’s judgement. He rushed into the orchard and toward the fortress, eager for the bloodshed to begin. This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

It was a few hours before dawn when Mitsuhide, Motonari, and Kennyo finally approached the daimyo’s fortress. Mouri and his pirates led the attack. A sensible choice, given the cannon and the fact that no sane person would want any of them behind him. The only sound on that narrow road was the low groan of wooden wheels and the steady beat of marching men.

Mitsuhide was lost in thought, his mind spinning along the thousand paths this battle could take. Which led him to rescue his love, and which ended in death, separated by only the slightest action. The most banal of random events. Yet he was the kitsune warlord and he had to know - to plan - and to win.

His thoughts were interrupted by an explosion up ahead. The thundering roar of a ship’s cannon, unleashed at the daimyo’s gate. The reinforced wood didn’t stand a chance. The air around it filled with dust, smoke, and splinters.

Kennyo’s eyes went wide as he surveyed the damage. Mitsuhide didn’t like the shrewd look in his eyes. But whatever Kennyo thought, he kept it to himself. His Ikko Ikki began moving in to fight the daimyo’s forces as they rallied to defend the opening.

Motonari was already pushing to the thick of things, plowing through the smoke with his sword drawn. His mad laughter was drowned out by the sound of shouting and the screams of dying men.

“Mouri is a natural at this.” Mitsuhide tracked the opening attack with cautious optimism.

“And you aren’t comfortable with this destruction?” Kennyo’s lips twitched into a brief, mocking smile.

“I never said that.” Mitsuhide drew his sword. “In my blood, in my bones - I want to be here. More than anyone else.” It was a true statement, one that encompassed his nature and his heart’s desire. The battle excited his blood - the contest of man against man, the challenge to survive no matter what stood against you. But beneath that was something even stronger pulling him forward.

A ferocious love for his little one - a need to protect her above all others. The intensity of these feelings surprised him even now. He knew without doubt that he would kill every person inside these walls if it meant she lived. And that he would not stop there, were she still in danger.

Kennyo studied his face for a moment and then shook his head. “You are a frightening man.”

“This from a man that says he willing took up the mantle of demon?” Mitsuhide smiled. “We are all devils here.”

After a beat of silence, the abbot nodded. There wasn’t anything more to say. The two men charged forward into battle.

***

Kyubei was having a very hard time. He’d disguised himself as a servant after stashing the chatelaine earlier. It wasn’t a very good disguise, just a hat and some worn clothing. His sword was replaced with a hidden dagger and a wooden baton. He hadn’t slept - just worked his way through the keep trying to find a way to smuggle the girl out before Ashikaga called for her again.

There were several routes out of the fortress, but all of them were guarded. He could probably get out easily enough on his own - just claim to be another of the messengers sent to gather reinforcements. But the chatelaine … with a shaved head, her chest tied down, and some baggy clothes she might pass for a boy. He just needed to find some shears and-

“Put me down!”

He turned to see the shogun’s ‘messenger’ carrying the chatelain like a sack of rice. She was flailing, but he didn’t seem to notice her small fists or kicking feet. Kyubei felt his heart freeze in his chest. This was bad. He had to do something quickly. He drew the small wooden baton and crept forward.

The ‘messenger’ turned and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, she is making so much noise. I thought … “ he gestured with the baton as if he meant to hit her.

“Unnecessary. She needs to be awake. To feel every moment of this.” He ran his hand over her rear and squeezed.

The chatelaine shrieked and hit him again, her anger and fear wordless.

Kyubei wasn’t sure how to proceed, but he needed to do something. “I - I can tie her? For you?”

The fortress shuddered from some kind of attack. It sounded like a cannon. Both men turned toward the sound for a brief moment, then the messenger hurried on. Kyubei followed. Whatever his lord’s plan of attack, it had begun. The time to escape was past, and now all he could do was try to protect the chatelaine until Mitsuhide arrived.

Kyubei made his decision. He leapt forward, swinging with all his might at the back of the man’s head.

The messenger sensed the attack and shifted, raising his captive up to catch the blow.

For a moment, Kyubei feared the chatelaine would take the force of it, but he managed to change course mid-swing, his baton whistling through the empty air.

She spat and squirmed, trying to get loose. She didn't seem to realize how precarious her situation was or how much danger she was in.

The messenger knew he couldn’t fight and hold onto her at the same time. He had only a moment to react. Instead of killing her, he tossed her aside and drew a dagger. “I don’t know who you are or what you think you are doing, but today you will die.”

“I think not.” Kyubei went on the attack. He had to take the man down fast, before anyone else entered the hall. The wood sang through the air, then collided with one of the daggers. This was only a distraction, the real blow was aimed at the messenger’s knee. Kyubei’s foot connected solidly.

With a grunt of effort, the messenger stayed on his feet. He stabbed toward Kyubei, his intent clear. He wanted to end this fight quickly too. But he lacked the dancer’s grace of his opponent. Despite his rapid thrusts, he could not catch his blade in Kyubei’s flesh.

The chatelaine slowly gathered herself to her feet. Wide eyes tracked the near-silent fight.

Kyubei couldn’t afford to worry about what she would or wouldn’t do while he was occupied. He just hoped she wouldn’t run. That would summon more guards, a complication he couldn’t afford.

The messenger slashed at Kyubei’s throat. He missed, slicing the fabric on Kyubei’s shoulder. A thin welt of blood stained the cloth.

Kyubei struck the man’s hand and heard the satisfying crunch of breaking bones. The knife fell to the floor. This didn’t slow the messenger. Just forced him to attack with the remaining blade. It was all Kyubei could do to hold him off. Pain seemed to enrage the man, making him faster and more savage.

“You will pay for that. A week of torture for every finger,” the man snarled. “You will beg me to die!”

“I never beg.” Kyubei gave the messenger a toothy grin. Despite his brave words, he was beginning to worry. This was dragging on too long. Every second they fought brought him closer to being caught. And to make matters worse, he could see the chatelaine moving. If she ran, he would have to run too.

The messenger rushed Kyubei, using his whole body as a weapon. He slammed him into the wall.

The world narrowed to two points for Kyubei. His left hand, as he fought on that side to keep the dagger from his flesh - and his chest, where the messenger kept pushing forward, crushing him slowly.

Then, with a suddenness that bordered on the miraculous, the pressure eased. The messenger stumbled to his right, dropping his knife. He turned, and Kyubei saw the gaping wound on his back.

Behind the messenger stood the chatelaine. She was gripping the knife he'd dropped with white-knuckled intensity. Blood dripped down the blade and stained her fingers.

Kyubei didn’t hesitate. He pushed the enemy aside, grabbed the chatelaine, and ran.

She went along with him until they’d left that hallway far behind. After several turns and two staircases up, she pulled away from him. “Y-you get away from me!”

“My lady … it’s me.” Kyubei framed his face with his hands, covering the bald spot on top and the beard at the bottom. “I am Kyubei.”

The chatelaine’s eyes narrowed, studying his features. Then she dropped the knife and flung herself at him. “It is you! Did Mitsuhide send you? Where is he?” The questions came between breathy gasps as she gave in to her panic.

Kyubei carefully stroked her back, waiting for her to calm herself. “I will answer all your questions soon. Right now, we must find a way out.”

She nodded, dabbing at her bruised and swollen cheeks to wipe away her tears. “I … ok. Where do we go?”

He didn’t know which route to take, but there was a secret exit from the shogun’s rooms. A narrow, hidden passage in the wall that led to the servant quarters. With the fortress under attack, that seemed like the best option. Kyubei grabbed her hand and led her on - up toward the tenshu.

They passed several guard stations, but the tense men only waved them on. A servant and a beaten girl were no threat. They were waiting for the marauders - the enemy. And if the sounds of fighting were any indication, they didn’t have long to wait.

Kyubei and the chatelaine were allowed into the shogun’s tenshu. Afterall, her delivery was expected. The room was lined with the daimyo’s guards. Ashikaga paced, his face twisted with anger and worry.

“How dare they! I am the shogun! They should grovel before me. Beg!” He glanced up as Kyubei entered the room.

Kyubei tried to scuttle to the side with her, bowing low as he sidestepped. They only needed to get close enough to the hidden door to get out. Ashikaga should be too preoccupied with the battle to focus on them - at least, that was his hope. But all those plans went up in smoke as the shogun lunged toward them and grabbed the chatelaine’s arm.

“You! Girl! You are my secret weapon.” Ashikaga jerked her to his side. “The kitsune would never risk you. He is weak. Yes …” He studied her bruised face.

“Mitsuhide is ten times the man you will ever be. And he would risk anything for his ideals.” She straightened her back and glared up at him.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak!” Ashikaga lifted a hand to strike her.

That was when the door exploded inward. It made a sound like cannon shot as the wood gave way. In the opening stood two men.

Motonari’s face was lit with a feral snarl. His eyes glowed like coals and his sword left a scarlet arc in his wake.

Mitsuhide was equally frightening. His clothes were spattered with crimson droplets, his lips curved in a cruel smile. When his gaze found the chatelaine’s face, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

Kyubei swallowed. This was going to be messy.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide felt a surge of incoherent rage. His beloved little mouse stood beside the shogun, her arm in his iron-grip. Her face was bruised - and likely more of her that he couldn’t see. Her clothes were torn and bloody. If Ashikaga thought this would bring him mercy, he was badly mistaken.

She turned her eyes from the shogun to look at Mitsuhide. There was a world of hurt in that gaze, but strength too. Despite all she’d suffered, she was angry and determined. There was even a flare of joy in her at seeing him.

“You base villains,” Ashikaga shrieked. He waved the guards to attack, but the daimyo’s men didn’t move.

Motonari ignored the shogun completely. He gave the chatelaine a saucy grin. “Hey! Yer lookin’ pretty good fer a prisoner, m’lady!” He even dipped in a slight bow to her, though the effect was somewhat lacking given the blood spatter and gore.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my love.” Mitsuhide took a step toward her.

She smiled, though the expression clearly caused her pain. “I knew you’d come.”

“I hoped you would say that, which is why I endeavored to come just as you needed me.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help the genuine affection that colored his voice when he spoke to her. He was still angry - still planning to tear the shogun’s body into pieces - but that rage burned right beside the fires of his love. One did not contradict the other. He knew he didn’t need to gentle himself for her. “I will have you free and in my arms in a moment.”

“Guards!” Ashikaga shrieked, his voice cutting through the nearby sounds of battle. He was not a man that liked being ignored.

The door of the side room burst open, spilling the shogun’s personal guards into the room. Where the daimyo’s men would not obey, these men were eager to do as ordered. There were only four of them, and at least one looked as if he was already half-dead, with a vicious wound in his back that still bled.

“I expected more from you, Yoshiaki. It seems your popularity has taken a plunge.” Mitsuhide lifted his sword, ready to fight.

Motonari laughed. “Aww, if I’da known you were so hard-up fer help, I might not a’ betrayed ya so quick.”

The shogun’s face flushed crimson and he shook with anger. “You - you fools think to mock me? Know your position!” He jerked the chatelaine in front of him. “Besides, I have a hostage. You are mad to go against me!”

“I am quite sane, I assure you,” Mitsuhide’s eyes narrowed. The shogun clearly wasn’t. Mitsuhide was willing to kill a man for making his little one cry. For this … death was too easy. “Yoshiaki, this world has moved on. It has no more need for men like you. Because you fail to grasp this, I have come to assist you off the stage myself.”

The shogun’s eyes were wide, though with fear or anger, it was impossible to say. “Insolence! Make your jokes while you have breath for them.” Then he smiled and pulled a dagger from his belt. He pressed the sharp edge to the chatelaine’s throat.

She gasped and froze.

Behind them, one of the servants - no, Mitsuhide realized - Kyubei! - began to step forward. Mitsuhide gave the barest shake of his head. An attack now would mean death for his little mouse. The right moment would come.

“See they do not approach me,” Ashikaga ordered his men.

The half-dead looking guard bowed to the shogun. “As you command, majesty.” Then he turned his gaze to the intruders. Mitsuhide saw in them the fires of fanaticism, and the darkness of death approaching. This man had no fear, not anymore. He pulled a long sword and held it up. “I sentence you to death, kitsune. It is too light a punishment for turning on the shogun, but it is the best I can mete out.”

Motonari gave an excited shout. “Hell yes! Looks like one o’ yer men has got some backbone!”

Yoshiaki hissed something to the chatelaine and then pulled her to the corner of the room.

“I’ll take the room. You can have the shogun.” Motonari didn’t wait for a reply, just charged forward. He was immediately met by the half-dead fanatic, who despite his wounds, was clearly the best of the remaining fighters. “Let’s have us some fun!”

“This will be no game,” the fanatic’s expression was grim.

They exchanged blows, their blades screeching as they met again and again.

Mitsuhide shook his head. Mouri was mad, but even that had its usefulness. At least this provided him an opening. He dodged past the remaining guards toward the shogun.

“You rush to your end,” Yoshiaki shouted. He pushed out onto a small balcony. It was a bare ledge with no railings meant for decoration rather than use. The wood groaned under his weight. The chatelaine went with him, the dagger still on her throat kept her still and compliant.

“If you so much as twitch, I’ll throw you to your death,” the shogun hissed at her.

Below, the battle was slowing as men died or surrendered. Their cries were carried up to the tenshu on the cold night air.

Mitsuhide sheathed his sword and pulled the matchlock from his back. There wasn’t enough space on that narrow ledge to fight. In this, the tanegashima was a better choice. If his aim held true. He checked the load and primed it to fire. Then he pointed it at the shogun. “Do not move.”

The shogun pressed his knife hard against the chatelaine’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. “It is you who should be careful of his movements.” He grinned, already feeling he’d won. “Now lower your rifle.”

“You can only kill her once, Yoshiaki. And then you will still die.”

“Disarm yourself and kneel, kitsune! Do it, or I will kill her!”

Despite his words, Mitsuhide was terrified. Seeing the blood on her neck only drove home the very real possibility that she would die here, now. He would still finish his mission. The shogun would be no more. But his little one … The thought froze his limbs and stopped his heart. He told himself that Ashikaga would kill her anyway, even if he dropped the gun and knelt. Yet … if there was a chance that he would let her go …

Seeing Mitsuhide’s conflict, Yoshiaki’s smile widened. “Call off your troops and I will let the girl live. Do it, and I may even forgive you for turning against me.”

Mitsuhide didn’t move.

“Now, or must I say it louder?!”

He ignored the shogun and studied the face of his beloved little one. She saw the decision he had to make. And she understood. Without moving, she gifted him her trust. His little mouse knew the risk he was about to take and accepted it, as he must. Her bravery made his chest hurt and his throat close. But he could only honor it now by taking action.

As Mitsuhide took aim, the chatelaine lifted her hands and in a practiced motion, grabbed the shogun’s knife arm. “Now,” she shouted. She had only seconds that she could hold Ashikaga at bay. Her arms shook as she pulled the blade a hairsbreadth away from her throat.

Mitsuhide sent a prayer to whatever gods or devils may be listening, and he pulled the trigger.

The moment stretched. He saw the powder light, heard the explosion of the bullet as it left the barrel. Watched Ashikaga’s ribs buckle under the impact, and his blood stained the cloth around the wound.

“What?” The shogun looked down at himself in confusion. His grip on the knife loosened. The blade fell from his hand, bouncing off the wooden ledge and down to the ground below.

The messenger stopped fighting Motonari in the room behind them and flung himself toward Mitsuhide. There was death in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t survive this attack, but he was determined to avenge the shogun as his last living act.

Kyubei lunged forward, putting himself between Mitsuhide and the nearly dead warrior. His dagger took the man in his gut, stopping him before he could so much as breathe on Akechi. The hate in the messenger’s eyes burned to emptiness as his life-blood spilled. Kyubei watched impassively until he was sure the man was really dead.

“Nice kill,” Motonari remarked. “Who’re you?”

“No one.” Kyubei gave a half smile and pulled his sword free.

Mitsuhide spared a moment to clap him on the shoulder. Their eyes met. There was much to discuss, of course, but it could wait. The shogun was dead, the chatelaine was alright, and there were yet plans to put in motion.

“Mouri, go make sure Kennyo isn’t overwhelmed. There is still fighting on the grounds below us. Everything must be calm before the shogun arrives.”

“Yer losin’ yer mind, kitsune. The shogun’s right there.” Mouri’s eyes narrowed as Yoshiaki staggered to the edge of the narrow ledge. His legs shook. His chest spasmed as he gasped for air. And then, Yoshiaki Ashikaga fell.

Mitsuhide closed the distance between him and his little mouse. He pulled her tight against him. “You are alright.”

“I know.” She snuggled closer.

“Guess I’ll leave ya two lovebirds and go see to Kennyo,” Motonari said gruffly. “Ya did good princess.”

She didn’t look up to watch him go, though Mitsuhide’s eyes followed the pirate until he was gone from sight. Then his attention was back on his little one. Her deep, shaking breaths slowed and steadied. “I hope one day, awful things like this don’t have to happen anymore.”

“As do I.” He stroked her back gently. He had wanted to insulate her from this. To protect her. But his little mouse was strong enough to see death and recover from it. She’d proven herself yet again to be his match. Here she was, injured and in shock, yet she still held strength. Though he hadn’t believed he could love her more, he felt a surge of affection for this strange, sweet woman.

A dry cough from the room behind them eventually broke their moment of peace. Kyubei, still dressed as one of the daimyo’s servants, stood beside … Ashikaga Yoshiaki. Or, his replacement.

“Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering when you’d clear this place out. My room is a mess!” The shogun wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Kyubei nudged him. “The shogun would never apologize.”

“Ah, right. Interrupting you was an annoyance. How dare you embrace and not regard my entrance with the appropriate obeisance?” The shogun smiled.

Mitsuhide smiled back. “I see. My apologies to you then. Shall I kneel?”

The chatelaine looked down at the ground below for a moment as if to check that Ashikaga’s body was still there. Then she looked back up at his double. “You - who? No wait! You’re the scribe! We met you in Kyoto at the shogun’s estate.”

“Riku, at your service, princess.” The shogun bowed. “Ashikaga kept my service while he was in hiding here, and eventually brought me out to scribe for him. Just as Akechi suspected he would.”

“And you made contact with my spy as instructed, I see,” Mitsuhide smiled.

“I did. He told me your idea and, at first I wasn’t interested but -”

“I am very persuasive,” Kyubei grinned.

Riku, now the shogun’s double, nodded. “And the daimyo agreed to go along with it, provided his family was spared. So here we are.” He looked a little nervous.

“You will make an excellent shogun in exile,” Mitsuhide reassured him. “All you need do is enjoy the remaining wealth of the Ashikaga clan and stay out of the Oda’s way.”

“I will,” Riku’s expression was determined, if a little pale. “It’s more than I ever could have hoped for as a mere scribe.”

Mitsuhide nodded. “I will leave you in Kyubei’s care for now. He will alert me if you need support.” His eyes fell to his little mouse. “I have more important tasks this day.”

He spared not a heartbeat more before lifting her into his arms. It felt like they’d been apart forever, though it was really only a few days. Mitsuhide carried her past the few lingering fights, and into one of the daimyo’s guest rooms. It was quieter here, though the smell of gunpowder and blood still hung on the air.

“I would take you to Kyoto, but first …” he brushed a finger along the edge of her jaw. Her cheek was swollen and bruised. “We must see to your injuries. What happened?”

She told him about her capture as he gently rubbed balm into her wounds. Mitsuhide could tell it stung - both the ointment and relating her capture. But he was proud of her for trying to outsmart Ashikaga’s man, and for fighting back.

“I am sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he said softly, and kissed her forehead.

She put her hand to his cheek and shook her head. “You can’t always be right beside me. I don’t expect you to be. I did my best to keep myself safe and … I knew if I couldn’t, that you would rescue me. And you did.”

Mitsuhide felt a sharp warmth in his eyes and realized he might cry. Her trust in him … he simply didn’t have words for the way it made him feel. “I love you, little one.”

“And I love you.”

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide worked from the hallway, sending orders and letters through Kyubei to see to the settling of the shogun and his new staff. It was tiring work - but satisfying. Against the odds, he’d succeeded yet again. With help, of course, but it was still remarkable what victory could be pulled from a little wit and a lot of will.

Kyubei arrived with the latest information, his expression one of grim resolve. His hand kept touching the short, dark fuzz at the top of his head. A new nervous gesture, Mitsuhide surmised. The vassal and spy had been uneasy since the shogun’s death. Despite that, he was doing an excellent job teaching Riku how to imitate Yoshiaki and filling him in on things the scribe hadn’t known about his lord.

“What news?” Mitsuhide set down his report from Chugaki and gave his vassal full attention.

Kyubei swallowed. “Ah, it looks like the pirates will be on their way by this evening. Mouri hasn’t announced an official withdrawal, but his warriors are packing up all the weapons and sake they can carry …” He paused and glanced toward the closed door behind Mitsuhide. Though he had obvious questions, he continued with his report. “The Ikko Ikki are all but gone. Kennyo and a few of his close confidants remain.”

“As expected. I was unable to embed another pair of eyes with the monks, but we should receive regular reports on the doings of Motonari when he sets sail. Anything else?” Mitsuhide knew there was more. Otherwise Kyubei would have sent information like this in a written report.

Kyubei’s eyes went to the door again. “There were, that is, I overheard some of the pirates discussing the chatelaine. Apparently, some are under the impression she will be leaving with Mouri.”

Mitsuhide’s eyes flashed and his smile turned sharp. “I assure you that is not the case.”

“I didn’t think so, my lord.” He paused again, then bowed. “I - I also wanted to offer my apology. Words are not enough, of course. I will - I will do whatever you think is fitting. But … I allowed the chatelaine to come to harm. I tore her clothes and frightened her. I failed to protect her and made her captivity worse. If you hadn’t arrived when you did …” His voice cracked and he went silent.

“You believe your choices led her to be captured?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

“No - not directly. But if I’d warned you of the ninja sooner-”

“I would still have been no more likely to catch him on his way in or out of our blockade.” Mitsuhide frowned. “I knew there was risk in leaving her alone. She did as well. Neither of us has regret.”

Kyubei’s head bobbed, but he still didn’t straighten. “I didn’t help her escape. I was afraid it would expose my mission. She was hurt as a result.”

“Yes,” Mitsuhide said dryly. “And you tore her kimono to make it look as if you’d taken her, yes?”

Kyubei nodded again.

“Also to preserve your cover. And if you had been exposed, she would have been taken to the barracks for their pleasure. I fail to see how that would have improved her situation.”

“But my lord … she might have died.” Kyubei’s voice was hoarse and low.

Mitsuhide agreed. “She risked her life for our mission. Do not diminish that by taking her pain as your failure. We all did what we must to see this through.”

“Then I have your forgiveness?”

“There is nothing to be forgiven. Now go - I am sure the shogun has need of you.” Mitsuhide waved him away.

Kyubei bowed even lower before standing and hurrying away.

He sat still as a stone until the sound of his vassal’s footsteps faded to nothing. Then he stood and quietly entered the room. There was a little light from the setting sun outside. The air here smelled of ginger, reeds, and honey - the fragrant parts of the ointment he used on his little one. Mitsuhide sank silently to the floor beside her.

She was still asleep. Deeply so. Her body was recovering from her ordeal. A brutal abduction, a restless day trapped in a store room, and then a near-death experience. She looked so fragile, though he knew her strength.

His hands shook as he tenderly ran his fingers through her hair. She meant so much to him, this sweet little mouse. Mitsuhide was finally forced to acknowledge just how close he’d come to losing her. He ran his hand over her shoulders just to reassure himself she was there and whole. The bruises were already fading. Her throat had a thin, dark scab where Yoshiaki’s knife had pressed too close. In a few weeks, this would be only a memory. One he hoped would disappear beneath the joy of their life together.

“M-mitsuhide?” Her lashes fluttered as she tried to open her eyes.

“I am here little one.”

Her hand reached for him, cool fingertips tracing his cheekbones. “Are you crying?”

He was, he realized.

“I’m ok. You - you shouldn’t cry.” She sat up and looked at him. Her eyes were wide in the dim light.

“They are tears of joy. See?” He smiled.

She scooted forward and snuggled into his lap. When she was comfortable again, she looked up at him. “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Then you know I’m not. Or … not completely.” Which was true. He was relieved she was alright.

“Mmm. I suppose I will take that. But you know, the crying part is my job. So next time …” She brushed a tear from his cheek. “Next time leave it to me. I can’t bear to see you look so sad.”

“Nor I, you.”

She quieted down at that, and closed her eyes. Her head rested on his chest, and he could feel the tickle of her steady breath on his neck. Mitsuhide might have laid down with her on the futon, but a knock at the door spoiled the moment.

“Enter,” he said, thinking it would be a servant, perhaps with dinner. Instead, it was Kennyo.

The abbot gave him a wary look. “Our alliance is at an end, kitsune. We have what we wanted from this venture.”

“It is. Which begs the question … why are you still here?”

Kennyo’s dark gaze fell to the chatelaine. She’d fallen asleep again, and showed no signs of rousing. “How is she? She looks better.”

“She is.”

The abbot seemed to struggle within himself for a moment. Then he took a packet from his robes and held it out to Mitsuhide. “Give this to her when she wakes. It is best to prepare it as a tea, steeped until dark. Then she must drink it while it is still warm.”

Mitsuhide looked at the small, paper packet with some distrust.

“Take it. I would not poison her.”

“Not even for your revenge?” Mitsuhide’s eyebrow rose.

Kennyo’s frown deepened and he met the kitsune warlord’s gaze. After several tense heartbeats, his response rumbled between clenched teeth. “I would not harm her, even for that.”

Mitsuhide took the packet and tucked it into his kimono. “I believe you.”

The abbot gave a brief nod and his eyes fell to the sleeping girl. His expression softened by the barest shadow. “I hope you will take better care of her. Know that I will be watching.”

Then he turned on his heel and left. The door slid shut behind him, fast and silent.

The lovers were alone again.

“It seems you brought a little light to that demon’s heart, mouse.” Mitsuhide kissed her temple. “I would not have thought it possible. But you work miracles. I am proof of that.”

She smiled in her sleep, lulled to sweet dreams by the sound of her soulmate’s heartbeat.

***

Morning came with pale yellow light and the sound of talk, even laughter, from the fortress. People returning to normal after the brief but deadly fighting. Mitsuhide was glad they were able to go back to their lives - or to make a new place for themselves. Something he intended to do as soon as they returned to Azuchi.

His little mouse stirred and yawned. Then she looked around the room with a dazed expression. “Did I sleep the whole night?”

“You did.”

“Just like this?” She ran her fingertip along his collarbone.

Mitsuhide shivered at the touch, feeling it awaken something inside him. A fire he’d kept banked for months now. “Not quite like that,” he grinned. “But in my arms? Yes.”

“What? But … did you get any rest?”

“I did. I found watching you sleep to be very restful.” This was truth. He’d spent the night listening to her breath, letting her warmth soak into him.

She frowned. “That’s not what I meant! I mean real sleep. You need to get some too. You are human.”

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow and chuckled as she smacked his arm. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“I am. I’d feel even better with a bath.”

Mitsuhide remembered their last bath, shared at an inn. He’d teased her until they were both desperate, and he’d left them like that. Unwilling to take that final step with her until he was sure he would be there after. “Are you very dirty?” He lifted her enough for his lips to find her neck and nibble the skin just under her ear.

She squealed and pretended to try to escape.

“Mmm, you taste pretty clean to me. But perhaps I need to sample a wider selection.”

“Mitsuhide!” She wriggled, trying to get out of his lap. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am always serious when it comes to you.” He let her out of his grasp and watched as she got up. She didn’t look unsteady, but he still stood and offered her his hand. “I suppose I will have to take your word about the need for a bath. But I think we should return to Kyoto before we indulge.”

His little mouse considered, then nodded. “Yeah. If I take a bath before we ride back, I’ll just be filthy again by the time we get there.” She looked around the room. “Are we leaving here already?”

“We are. Kyubei has things in hand and a longer stay will only raise questions.” He pointed to some clothes folded in the corner. “Get dressed and I’ll send word we are leaving.”

She smiled. “Alright. I’ll try to hurry.”

Mitsuhide left her in the room and went to find a servant. It wasn’t hard to do, and soon enough he was on his way back. He was stopped by the silver gleam of a pistol. At the other end of the barrel, a wobbly Motonari stood, braced against the wall.

“Yer not goin’ back.” His eyes were glazed with heavy drink and he stunk of sweat, gunpowder, and alcohol.

“And I suppose you plan to … what? Shoot me? Kidnap my little mouse? Flee to your ship?”

Motonari shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanna kill ya. One more enemy crossed off my list.”

Mitsuhide grinned. “I doubt that. This isn’t much of a struggle.” His eyes were hard despite the smile. “And if this is for her … you know she would never forgive you.”

“She’d get over it. Women …” he belched. “Women always do.”

“My little one isn’t ‘women’,” Mitsuhide replied. “Even you must know that by now. ”

Motonari began to laugh. He waved his gun toward the door. “Ya get in there before ya say anythin’ more stupid than that.” He pushed past Mitsuhide, stumbling down the hall.

Mitsuhide rushed to the room and slid open the door. His little one squeaked and pulled her kimono closed.

“I’m not dressed yet!”

He looked around, reassuring himself that everything was as he’d left it. “Perhaps that is why I hurried back.” Mitsuhide gave her a wicked smile. He didn’t tell her about Motonari in the hall. She didn’t need to know.

“Pffft,” she stuck her tongue out at him, but he could tell the flattery made her happy.

They rode out from the fortress before noon, sharing a saddle. The day felt brighter the further from the fortress they got. Mitsuhide knew he wasn’t the only one that felt that way. He could see it in the set of his lover’s shoulders and in the way she smiled.

Once the bloodstained fortress was only a memory hidden behind the dust of the road, she spoke. “I feel like I am riding toward a whole new life. Like … like everything is different. Just because one man died. Isn’t that silly?”

“I don’t think it is.” Mitsuhide rested his chin on her head. “Yoshiaki caused so much death and misery with his ambition. That is why we did what we had to.”

“But there are other people just as bad-”

“And none of them are shogun.” He held the reins with one hand and used the other to hug her closer.

After a long silence, she nodded. “I guess I just feel guilty for being glad he’s dead.”

“Don’t.” He paused, then added, “Besides, shogun Ashikaga is just fine. He’s simply in exile. Staying far away from the capital and politics for the rest of his life.”

“Mmhmm. Poor Riku.” She tapped her chin. “Do you think he’ll do ok?”

“With the help we’ve given him, that scribe will be a much better shogun than Yoshiaki. You’ll see.” Then he moved their conversation to lighter things. “After we arrive at the inn, I will send out for food. What treats would tempt my little mouse?” That was all it took to send her into a monologue of her favorite foods.

She took such delight in the little things. It made Mitsuhide want to have joy in them too. He promised himself he would try. For her - he would do anything. So ran his thoughts as they passed the gate into Kyoto and caught sight of the inn.

Then all he could think of was their bath, and how very much he was looking forward to enjoying it with her.

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Hideyoshi straightened his clothes once more. No matter how he smoothed the fabric, the fit felt awkward. As if it wasn’t the clothes so much as his skin that didn’t sit right. The chatelaine would arrive soon to meet with him and he felt nervous. Which was ridiculous. How many times had he talked to her before? Helped her carry her bags? Had tea? But today felt different.

Maybe because she wasn’t really the chatelaine now. She’d moved herself to Mitsuhide’s manor, an outward signal of her choice. But there had been no official decision from Nobunaga, no ceremony, and that meant there was a chance he could save her.

A polite tap at his door let Hideyoshi know she’d arrived. He cleared his throat and welcomed her in. Light followed her as the door slid open, golden on her skin. With her bruises healed and the exhaustion of travel gone, she was as beautiful as ever. Like a - a very pretty little sister, he reminded himself. “Please, have a seat. I’ll prepare some tea.”

“Thank you! It’s been awhile since I visited you here.” She sat down gracefully. Her eyes tracked him as he moved around the room. “I’m glad you had time to meet with me. I wanted to ask, well, to see if I could change jobs.”

Hideyoshi hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t sure why she’d asked to meet, but this hadn’t even made the list. He covered his confusion by rearranging snacks on the tray.

She took his silence as encouragement. “I thought since Mitsuhide was going to continue his work for Nobunaga, I need to find something I can do too. Something besides chatelaine, since I live in the Akechi manor now.”

“I see.” Hideyoshi poured the tea and sat down across from her. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to join the seamstresses.” She looked down at her tea, an anxious smile playing at the corners of her lips. “In my - my hometown, I designed clothes. Sewing is something I love and I’d really-”

He interrupted her. “It’s fine. I’ll clear it with Nobunaga.” He reached over and patted her head. “I want you to do what makes you happy, which is why -” Hideyoshi cleared his throat. “Which is why I want you to reconsider this, this thing with Mitsuhide.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

“I know he’s . . . interesting. But you can’t ever really trust him. He lies as easily as he breathes.” He wrapped his hands around hers, feeling how fragile and warm she was. “You deserve a love with trust that goes both ways. Someone that won’t lie to you, won’t hurt you.”

She pulled her hands back, out of his grasp. “And who is that? You?”

Hideyoshi rubbed his face, wishing just once he had the kitsune’s silver tongue. “It could be. Or Mitsunari. Nobunaga. Ieyasu . . . even Ranmaru. He’s closer to your age too.” He stood, unable to stay seated when his heart was hammering in his chest like this. “I . . . look, anyone would love you. And anyone but Mitsuhide would be a better match.”

Her small hands made tiny, white knuckled fists in the fabric of her kimono. “I love him. And I trust him. I know he sometimes . . . keeps things to himself. But he does it out of loyalty and kindness.”

“I’m sure that’s what he says-”

“Hideyoshi. I thought you were my friend.” Her eyes were damp with unshed tears and her cheeks flushed with anger. “I can’t believe you! Trying to - to -”

“I am trying to protect you.” He bent down and took her by the shoulders. “If you marry him, you will never be safe. Never. Not from his enemies, and not from him and his lies.” His voice shook.

The chatelaine tried to pull out of his grasp as she stood, but he wouldn’t let her go. He pulled her close. Pressed her to his chest as if she were a balm to the thundering there.

“I love you. As my - my sister. And I can’t watch you hurt yourself like this.”

“Let. Me. Go.” She stared up at him as if she were seeing a stranger. “It is my choice who to love. And I love Mitsuhide. I will be his wife, even knowing that yes! Yes, it will hurt! I know what he’s like, and I know how dangerous the life he leads is. I am not afraid.”

Hideyoshi studied her face, seeing in it her iron will. She had decided and words would not sway her. He let go and took a step back. “Then . . . forgive me. I . . . misspoke.” He bowed low and waited there for her to speak.

After several breaths, she reached out, fingertips grazing his shoulder. “Can we just pretend that never happened? Because I know you care for me and you respect my choices. Anything else I might have heard was just a misunderstanding. Hideyoshi? ”

He straightened and gave her a nod. His chest still felt tight, his heart heavy as lead. “We can.”

She gave him a half-smile. “Good. Because I do think of you as a friend. Or, or maybe a big brother. And I don’t want to lose that.”

Hideyoshi cleared his throat. “I just needed to make sure that my little sis knows what she’s doing.” He tried out his own, awkward smile.

“Let’s sit and drink our tea and - we can talk about something else. Is that alright?”

With some relief, they sat down and resumed drinking their tea. They were quiet for a time, but eventually fell into the comfort of their relationship, sharing stories about the castle staff and people in town.

***

Mitsuhide spent most of his morning drafting a letter to Sasuke. He wanted to make it clear what he was asking - but only to the ninja - and to cover his tracks should it be intercepted. Afterall, regardless of the friendship between his lover and Kenshin’s henchman, they were still enemies on opposing sides of an unresolved conflict. It would not do to be caught out for a treason he was actually committing.

The final letter probably read like nonsense to anyone besides Sasuke. Asking about the frequency of the ‘worms’ and whether or not they had a season . . . he just hoped the ninja understood. And that the answer was the one he sought.

He was in the process of sealing it up when his door opened. Masamune stepped in, carrying a covered tray in one hand, and a bottle in the other. He grinned when Mitushide looked up. “If looks could kill. You want a rematch for our raincheck?”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I’d rather not. But you could have sent word that you were coming. Or at least knocked.”

“Ah, but then I’d miss that expression on your face. Crafty fox caught with a hen in his mouth.” Masamune’s laugh felt too loud for the room. He didn’t notice.

“I can only assume you are bothering me for a reason.”

“I am! I heard congratulations are in order. And, I haven’t brought you lunch since you got back.” Masamune sat down and gestured for Mitsuhide to join him.

It was the quickest way to be rid of him, Mitsuhide reasoned. Besides, he was hungry. And, though he would never admit it, it was good to see Masamune. He sat.

Masamune unpacked the lunch he made. A variety of savory and sweet foods, all presented in easy to eat bite-sized bits. He grinned as he set out the last dish.

“What is this?”

“You always say eating is an annoyance. You want convenient foods, right? So . . .” he gestured to the plates. “Different flavors, all easy to eat. One of these has got to stir those tastebuds of yours.”

Mitsuhide hid his surprise behind a razor-thin smile. “Thoughtful of you. But what is it you want.”

“Exactly what I said. And to tell you congratulations. You and the lass made it official yet?”

“If you mean, have I spoken to Nobunaga, then no.” Mitsuhide picked up a ball of what looked like steamed daikon. “There is no need to hurry. Is there?” He raised an eyebrow.

Masamune shrugged. “I wouldn’t delay. The lass is a treat, and you can bet others have noticed. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Nobunaga’s getting offers for her hand.”

“Those letters, if they existed, would never reach our lord.”

“Heh, that so? And what about those in the alliance with an interest?”

Mitsuhide finished swallowing the daikon. It was faintly spicy, not enough to get a reaction. “I am unconcerned. Nobunaga has allowed her to make her own choice. And I know who she will choose.”

“I think you’re scared.” Masamune sat back with a smug smile.

“Scared?” One eye brow arched.

Masamune nodded. “Of what your enemies will do to her if she’s your wife. Of the way love can die in a marriage. Of her coming to regret you.” He waved a hand in the air, encompassing all of the ways things could go wrong. “You always overthink things. Try to plan your way around problems. And now you’re stuck.”

Mitsuhide wanted to scoff. Such problems were for ordinary men, not the kitsune warlord. But . . . Masamune wasn’t wrong on any count. Ranmaru’s subtle reminder made him realize how easy a target the chatelaine would make. And he worried for her happiness. She’d yet to meet his family, see his home. And there were so many examples of marriages gone sour over time. This blissful love - he didn’t want it to fade.

“Assuming any of that nonsense was true, what would you recommend,” Mitsuhide asked finally.

“Stop dancing around it. Marry the girl. Take life as it comes. And eat your damn lunch.”

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Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected his lord. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing right after. Of course, Kyubei pretended like he knew exactly what was going on as he dealt with the fallout. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So … am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to his livelihood.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord and the chatelaine had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they’d left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine … his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in the bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it … are we really …” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but …”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it. He still had his right hand and the other warlords.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won’t have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don’t mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did … yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it! At least until we find our way home.”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you’re there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the … toilet … squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps thanks to her well-timed advice.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a … tablet … to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd looking round, blue creature on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. Drafted out of my account. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make your way.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What … is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

“And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both …

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You … tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. “I should probably, you know. Finish getting dressed.” A short while later, they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide had to admit that leggings were an excellent western import. From this vantage, he could admire his beloved’s legs, the curve of her hip, the rise of her -

“Eyes. Are. Up. Here.” She grinned. “I am feeling very appreciated but I’m worried you’re going to walk into a pole.”

“I would never.” Mitsuhide huffed. He was perfectly capable of admiring his fiancée and watching his step. Though he had to admit the addition of traffic lights, billboards, cars and bikes, and the rush of city sounds made it a little more difficult. But she was right. He needed to focus on other things. Less pleasant, to be sure, but necessary.

So far, he’d learned how to ride a train, though he found the maps difficult to read. And how to find and secure food and drink - not that different from his time. How to walk through the city, which wasn’t a skill he’d ever considered.

Mitsuhide had a newfound respect for his little mouse. To have come from this world into his, where so many things were entirely different … and she’d adapted beautifully. He could do no less for her. “So where is it that we should go next?”

She smiled and ran a finger down his chest. “I was thinking we need to get you some clothes. Something that fits better.”

“And looks better. This ‘t-shirt’ is ridiculous.” Mitsuhide frowned down at the blue hedgehog.

“Hm, yeah. If I was going to pair you with a game character, it wouldn’t be that one. I think … maybe … Redd.” She laughed. “Although I can’t imagine you as a shopkeeper fox, even a tricky one.”

Mitsuhide had no idea what she meant. “I’d prefer clothing with no little animals on it in any color.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking about t-shirts. Let’s go try some things on.” She led him to a shop that was so large, it was almost a castle. There were three floors, bright lights, glass displays. She quietly explained what things were as they walked, without him needing to ask.

There were aisles of hanging clothes, all ready-made. His little mouse stopped at each of these, checking the various shirts, pants, vests, and jackets. None of them looked much like what Mitsuhide was used to wearing but he trusted her to pick well. Eventually she had a stack of outfits chosen that she thought would fit him.

They picked up a number from an attendant and headed to the dressing room. She hung the number on a hook beside the curtain and then handed him the clothes. “Go try these on and let me know what you like.”

“You aren’t coming in to help me?” Mitsuhide only half-meant it. He was fairly sure he could figure out the ties, clasps, and buttons of these modern clothes on his own.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in soundless protest. He could see her thinking of all the reasons she wasn’t supposed to follow him into the changing room going through her mind.

He laughed. “It’s against the rules and they might ban us from this place?”

“Then you knew!” She smacked his arm.

“There is a sign-” He pointed behind her to the posting that read ‘1 person per room’ and laughed again when she turned to look at it. “Just wait for me here.”

She sighed. “You always manage to tease me. I’ll get you back though. Wait and see.”

“I dream of the day.” He pulled the curtain shut and set about figuring out these complicated items he was supposed to wear.

It took longer than he expected to try on the five different sets of clothes his little one chose for him. There were all sorts of buckles, different types of buttons. Something she laughingly called majikkuteepu - velcro - which held cloth together as if it was pasted in place, until you pulled it open. And zippers. Pinching, sticking, little metal rows of teeth. He didn’t like those at all. But after an interminable amount of time in the small, curtained room, he picked out three outfits.

One he decided to wear now. Heather grey pants and a lilac shirt, with a matching grey vest and a gold tie. It was nothing like his usual clothes, and yet it felt … familiar. He had dark grey shoes to wear with it, and a belt of the same material. When he stepped out wearing it, his beloved smiled.

That look made all his struggles in the dressing room worth it.

“You look fantastic!” She clapped her hands together.

“My soon-to-be-wife has excellent taste.” He leaned down and kissed her.

They left the shop a few hours later with several bags. Casual clothes, sleeping clothes, and the suit all packaged within. Mitsuhide carried them as they walked. “What exciting vista will you show me next, little mouse?”

“Well … I was thinking we could get lunch?”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “My little one is always hungry.”

She pouted. “I am not! But it is past lunchtime and -” her stomach grumbled.

“Always.” He grinned.

With singular determination, she ignored his teasing. “Hm, what kind of food should we try? There’s western food from a dozen different places. Modern Japanese too.”

“Wherever you like.” He didn’t remind her that his sense of taste was quite dead - that it wouldn’t matter. But she remembered anyhow.

“I wish I could pick something you would like.” Her frown was adorable, he thought.

“Little one, pick something you like. Something you’ve missed. I will enjoy watching you enjoy it.” Mitsuhide smiled, encouraging her. He truly did enjoy watching her eat. The way she savored her food, with that little satisfied smile.

She sighed. “Alright.” For a long moment, she was thoughtful, then her expression brightened. “I know! We can get some curry!”

Mitsuhide wasn’t sure what that was, but her smile was the important thing.

The two of them left the wide, sunlit street to cut through a narrow alley. Tall buildings rose to either side of them, all stone and glass, blocking the sun. It wasn’t that different from his own time, he thought, even if the buildings were taller and the garbage collecting in the corners was of different substance.

There were three young men leaning against the wall at the far end of the alleyway. Mitsuhide recognized the tense, false postures of relaxation, the pretend disregard and arrogance. These men were trouble.

“Little mouse …” He reached for her, but realized it was too late. Even as his fingers curled around her arm and she came to a stop, the men at the alley’s end were straightening. Looking their way with wide, self-assured smirks.

One of them whistled discordantly. His eyes traveled up the chatelaine’s body, slow and considering. “I like this delivery girl. She’s cute.”

“What didja bring us,” another said. He reached a hand toward Mitsuhide and the bags.

It was easy to move aside from the slow grab.

The third man chuckled. “Hey, grandpa. No need to be shy. You can put all that down and head out the way you came in.”

“You can leave your wallet and phone behind too,” said the one grabbing for the bags.

“H-hey! Leave us alone!” Mitsuhide’s little one was putting on her brave face. “I-if you need some food or something, we can help you. But I’m not just going to let you rob us.”

The whistler smiled widely. “Oh? I need something alright. And it’s not just your money. But I’ll take that too.” His hand landed on her shoulder, thumb against her throat.

She slapped him. Her hand left a red print on the man’s cheek.

He pushed her back against the wall.

Or he started to. Mitsuhide saw white. A flash of rage, brilliant and extreme. He slammed the bag-grabbing man with the packages. The man fell and tangled in bags and clothes. The one that called him grandpa went down with a kick to the stomach. Then he was on the whistler.

Mitsuhide grabbed the whistler by the back of his clothes and pulled him roughly away from his fiancee. Then he grabbed his arm and twisted it back, palm up, almost to the point of snapping bones.

The man - really a boy - screamed.

“You are lucky I left my blade in the apartment,” Mitsuhide said quietly. “Or you would all be holding your guts.”

The bag-grabber was almost free and trying to stand. “Whoa. You some kind of bodyguard or something? I never saw anybody move so fast.”

“Yeah, grandpa! You got moves,” wheezed the one he had kicked.

Mitsuhide twisted the arm of the man he held a little higher, enough to hear the bones creak. “Why are you bothering us? Who do you work for?”

The one he held whimpered. “W-we don’t work for anyone, man.”

“So you are bandits. Robbing young girls and … old men. Do you know what I do to such men?” Mitsuhide smiled his crescent moon grin.

“Don’t kill them. We can just call the police.” His little mouse was straightening her clothes.

Mitsuhide frowned. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really. He just surprised me.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Probably not even a bruise.”

“I’m really sorry,” the one Mitsuhide held whined.

“Yeah, grandpa. We’re real sorry. We know to leave you alone now. How ‘bout you just let us go on our way.”

The grabbing one started picking up the bags and stuffing clothes back into them. “See? All fixed. We can just -”

“I don’t think so.” Mitsuhide glared at them. “You will go on to rob someone else. Someone less capable of stopping you.”

“S-so what are you gonna do to us?” The one he held started to cry.

Mitsuhide knew he could call these city guards his love recommended, but he suspected such a move would complicate things. Guards wanted to know who everyone was, what they were doing there. They may have questions he didn’t wish to answer. But letting the young men go was no solution. They’d continue to do bad things to no purpose.

“I have a proposition for you.” He beckoned the two young men closer. “Since you are lawless and without a lord, I will take you under my wing. You will work for me.”

“Mitsuhide?” His little mouse looked surprised.

The young men needed only a moment to exchange looks between them. Then the whistler nodded. “Alright. We can do that. What do you want us to do?”

Mitsuhide let go of him and waited while he checked his arm and flexed his hand. Then he gave them instructions.

They looked mildly surprised, but took the money he offered them and gave their ‘numbers’ in return. Then they left.

“Hopefully they show up like they said they would.”

“They will.” Mitsuhide gently pulled his little one close for a hug. Then he pulled her shirt off her shoulder to check it. The skin was a little red, but there was no lasting mark. Good.

She held still while he looked her over. “If they don’t, then you pretty much just paid them to go away.”

“If they were the hard men they pretend to be, you would be right. But they are young and looking for a purpose. A place. I have given them the illusion of that.” He smiled. “If we are here long enough, perhaps more than an illusion.”

Her stomach grumbled loudly. They both started laughing.

“We should go get your curry before the beast in your belly leaps out.” Mitsuhide ruffled her hair.

She grinned bashfully. “Stress makes me hungry?”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “You were already hungry before that.” He collected their bags and continued on.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide sat on the floor with his little mouse in his lap. His fingers stroked the nape of her neck as he listened intently to Sarutobi.

Sasuke and Miyake sat across from them on the edge of the bed. Miyake’s expression was somewhere between awe and exhaustion. He wasn’t saying much, just staring into empty space with a confused grin.

The ninja looked mildly pleased as he talked. “My professor took a little convincing. We had to call in the history department chair to talk to Miyake.”

“What did he want to know?” The chatelaine’s eyes were heavy with sleep. They’d spent the day walking around Kyoto, looking at historical sites - things Mitsuhide should recognize.

Of course, everything was so changed from his time that the places they visited may as well have been new. Even if they were the same structures, what lay around them had changed so much as to render the buildings and monuments unrecognizable.

Sasuke shrugged. “Details. It was like watching a verbal exam in a master class. And then he made Miyake pick out his own sword from a room of Sengoku period weapons. It was impressive watching him look each one over.”

At this, the warrior chuckled. “I almost didn’t. It was strange to see Kichihiroe looking so old and worn.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “But you did. So all is well.” He turned his attention back to Sasuke. “What is the benefit of bringing these men in on our secret?”

“Well, first off, this.” He handed Miyake and Mitsuhide campus ID cards. “You are both now officially visiting professors, with a stipend and everything. There was a small … additional favor they requested from you.”

“Which is?” Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow.

Miyake answered. “They want you to come in and answer questions. A lot of questions.” He wiped his brow. “They started in on me today and there is just no end!”

Sarutobi nodded a confirmation.

“So … they want to pay you to answer questions about the Sengoku era? And that’s it? That doesn’t sound so bad.” The chatelaine grinned.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I am not sure it’s so simple. This interaction - couldn’t it cause -” he thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “A complication? If I let slip something they don’t know, or they tell me something that will happen?”

“A paradox.” Sasuke’s mouth curled up in the slightest smile. “I considered that. But we are already living in a parallel timeline. One in which you and Nobunaga live, as well as some other changes.”

“So the things they tell us, those aren’t things that will happen?” Miyake sounded a little tense as he asked the question.

“Right,” Sarutobi replied. “Or, mostly right. We can’t be sure how far apart our timeline is from the original, so I encourage you to forget anything you may hear.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “Once a truth is heard, it cannot be so easily forgotten.”

“True enough. Can’t unring the bell, as they say. But are you willing to take that chance and talk with the history professor anyway?”

“I will.” Mitsuhide stroked his little one’s neck with gentle fingertips. “It will be interesting, regardless. And you have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange things. It’s the least I can do to play along.”

“I appreciate that.” Sasuke gave a little bow. “So what did you two do today?”

Miyake elbowed him and gave the two lovers a knowing wink.

Mitsuhide’s little one blushed and covered her face. “No! Nothing like that! Miyake! We just went shopping. Oh - and there were these men -”

“Who kindly helped me pick up our bags when I dropped them. We were very appreciative.” Mitsuhide interrupted her before she could give away any more information about their run in with the modern day bandits. Not that he didn’t trust Sasuke and Miyake. He did - as much as he trusted anyone. But it was always wise to keep information to yourself until there was a reason to share.

Sasuke blinked. “Ok. Well. Tomorrow, I’d like to take you up to the university, Mitsuhide. If that’s alright. You can both come if you want to.”

“Oh! But I needed to run by the office for my job tomorrow! I wanted to give them my apologies for disappearing so suddenly, just when they offered me a position.” She bit her lip. “I guess it can wait though.”

“I can go with her to do that, if you want me to,” Miyake put in.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You two can run errands tomorrow while I satisfy the curiosity of some modern scholars.”

“Are you sure?” The chatelaine looked uneasy.

“I am.” Mitsuhide kissed her cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

After they made arrangements for the coming day, Mitsuhide and his little mouse trekked back to her flat, leaving Miyake and Sasuke to themselves. It wasn’t that he minded the company, but he wanted to have her to himself tonight.

They stopped at a ‘small’ grocery on the way home to pick up something for breakfast. While Mitsuhide had noticed the number of foodstalls, he had not considered an entire store with shelves full of food. He wanted to ask if this was normal, but one look at his little one’s face gave him the answer.

She was not surprised at all. With barely a glance at the stacks of fresh vegetables and fruits, she led him further into the store.

There were at least five types of vinegar, he noted. An assemblage of noodles that defied sense. Several types of rice. Beans. And a variety of things with names he couldn’t identify as food, all wrapped in bright packages. “Masamune would love this place,” Mitsuhide murmured.

“You think? Maybe we should bring him something back.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you thought of him just now.”

“He’s a -” Mitsuhide paused at the realization he was about to say friend. Not ally. Not colleague. Friend. He bit back the word and finished with, “man who loves his food.”

His little mouse didn’t appear to pick up on the omission. “He really is. And he wants everyone around him to enjoy it too.” She picked up a package of rice, then added, “I wish I was such a good cook.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Mitsuhide settled his palm lightly on her low back, reassuring.

She smiled wryly. “Says the man who doesn’t taste his food.”

“Kyubei thinks so too. And his taste buds work fine.”

“Mhmm. Kyubei would eat a pile of rocks and tell me it was delicious if he thought he was supposed to. But I appreciate the compliment.” She leaned against Mitsuhide and sighed. “I wonder how he’s doing right now.”

Mitsuhide considered. There were a number of things he wished he’d had time to tell Kyubei. And of course, he hadn’t counted on Azuchi being attacked but, “I’m sure he is well. Kyubei is resourceful, talented, and I’ve left him the tools he will need. You should worry less about him, and more about yourself.”

“What should I be worried about?”

He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. With his lips almost touching her ear, he murmured, “You should worry about what I will do if I don’t get you alone soon.”

His little one inhaled sharply, cheeks heating. Her eyes were bright and full of desire as she replied. “Then we’d better hurry.”

They got back to her flat soon after, and unpacked the groceries. With the last items put away, she sat in a kitchen chair and looked up at Mitsuhide shyly.

It never failed to amuse him how innocent she could be in moments like these. As if she couldn’t admit what she wanted no matter how badly she wanted it. Of course, he’d take full advantage.

“How should I use your bath, little mouse? Can you show me how it works?” Mitsuhide already had an idea, but what fun was that?

“Oh! Yes. Sure. It would be good to clean up.” She led him to her small bathing room. “This handle is hot. This one cold. And if you press this, it will activate the shower. Just be careful where you point the nozzle.”

Mitsuhide leaned over her, pressing close. “So this one is hot?” He turned the handle.

“Umm … yes but, I should probably … get out of the way … the bathroom isn’t big enough-”

“And this one is cold?” He turned the other handle.

She nodded. “Yes. So. Ah, first rinse off with … with the shower. And … and th-then fill …”

Her distraction was deeply amusing. Possibly caused by his breath on the back of her neck and the way her hips met his. Not that he was unaffected. The press of her hips against him was maddening. The slight friction of cloth, the denial of skin to skin touch he ached for. But this was his game, and he knew what came next. Delay only made victory all the sweeter. Mitsuhide pressed the shower, and water fell like warm rain over them.

“Mitsuhide!” She gave a little shriek as he pulled her to standing under the flow. Her clothes clung to her skin, revealing as much as they hid. He could not wait to peel them off her.

“Oh dear. What have I done? Now you’re all wet!” He smiled widely and slid his hand under her shirt, popping the buttons open one after another.

She playfully swatted his other hand as he reached for her skirt. “You totally did that on purpose! I know you did!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” Mitsuhide slid her shirt off and enjoyed the sight of water pearling over the rise of her breast. Her soaked bra looked a deeper blue than it had when dry. A good color for her. His hands slipped around behind her, reaching for the clasp.

“You know, if you wanted to bathe together, you could have just said so.”

“Mmm, but this was more fun.” His fingers fumbled with the odd hook-and-eye catches, finally releasing them. Her bra fell away. Mitsuhide relished the sight. “You should probably help me get the rest of these clothes off. I’m fairly certain you don’t bathe wearing them in this age.”

She laughed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “My wicked kitsune. No. We don’t.” And then she kissed him.

***

Kyubei frowned at the short, dark-haired man in front of him. “You can cut the act, Ranmaru. I’d recognize you anywhere. Besides, your work on that scar is atrocious. Who taught you disguises? Were they blind?”

The page - spy and ninja as well - sighed and set down the basket he was carrying. “I thought the scar was pretty good. It really changes my face. What gave it away?”

“Your fingers are still stained with beetjuice, for one. And you didn’t blend the edges well enough. I can see bits of raw paste at your hairline.”

“Well damn. Alright. You caught me. Are you here to kill me?” Ranmaru’s tone was light, joking, but there was nothing funny about the way his fingers curled around the hilt of the short blade he wore at his hip.

Kyubei rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I came to find out what you know - and how you know it. Are you willing to have a conversation with me?” He left out the alternative, which was knocking the page senseless, dragging him back to Azuchi, and putting him in the dungeon. He wanted to avoid that outcome. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Alright. Fine. But you’re buying us something to eat. I’m starving!”

“I can do that.” He led the page out of the alley they were in - a spot chosen in case things got ugly - and back into a market street. Kyoto was full of people selling things. He had his pick of at least a dozen stalls and shops for food, but made a beeline for one in particular. The proprietor was one of Mitsuhide’s informants, someone Kyubei could trust if this chat went sideways.

The two men sat down at a back table and ordered sake and food. Ranamru’s preference for sweet things had not changed in his absence. They were getting stewed peaches, peaches with rice, and peach-jelly stuffed mochi. Not to Kyubei’s taste at all, but then, he hadn’t come here for the food.

“What do you know about the attack on Azuchi?” Kyubei wasted no time getting to the point.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Would you believe I didn’t know it was going to happen?”

“No.”

The page giggled. It was a high, false sound with no real mirth. “Well, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I really didn’t know that was coming. I knew something was … my - my Master was working with some people. And they were coming to Azuchi so I knew they had something in mind. I thought …”

Ranmaru’s throat bobbed, stuck on the words. He looked away and wiped at his face.

Kyubei sighed. “So you weren’t sure what was planned. What did you think might happen? Is that what made you run?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and he hadn’t looked up. “I thought … maybe they would try to kill him. Nobunaga. A direct attack. Or, poison? I - I didn’t want … but I was …”

“You were afraid they might ask for your help. Or participation.” Kyubei’s voice was pitched low, for Ranmaru’s ears only. This was not a subject to be discussed lightly.

The page nodded.

“So you ran.”

He nodded again.

Kyubei rubbed the short growth of hair on the top of his head. It was coming in, full and dark, but it itched some days. Especially after spending time on the road, with no rest. Touching it had become a habit for him when he was anxious or unhappy. This conversation was not making him happy.

“I didn’t want to be the one to - you know. Nobunaga has - he’s always been good to- to me. I thought, let them do their own dirty work. I would g-go back to Kennyo. Offer to be, to do a-anything else.” Ranmaru finally looked up. His expression was one of abject misery.

“I don’t blame you. It can be hard to serve two masters. Even when their goals usually align … often the methods do not.”

Ranmaru smiled bleakly. “I guess you understand a little.”

The tea and sweets came, and for a brief few minutes, the two men ate and drank in silence.

Finally, Kyubei asked, “So why aren’t you with Kennyo now?”

“I can’t find him. I know he’s working with …” Ranmaru’s jaw clenched. “I can’t say. But, I don’t know where they went. Or what they are planning next.”

“I need you to tell me the names, Ranmaru. Assume that I already know them, and from you, I only need confirmation.”

“Fine. Then you say them. I’ll nod if you’re right.”

Kyubei smiled. “Kicho.”

Nod.

“Motonari.”

Nod.

“The ‘shogun’ in exile.”

Nod.

“I was hoping the last one was a no. We worked so hard to set that boy up, but I suppose Yoshiaki’s allies got to him.” Kyubei took a deep breath. “And you really have no idea what they will do next?” He watched Ranmaru for tell-tale signs of a lie.

“I wish I did. I’d find Kennyo and get him away from those stray dogs.” The page almost spat.

“So what will you do now?”

Ranmaru tugged at his darkened locks, twisting them around his finger. “I don’t know. I am afraid to return to Nobunaga’s side. Afraid they will ask me to betray him. But that makes me a traitor to my Master. I am damned either way.” His voice was flat, empty of self-pity or any other emotion.

“You could work for me.”

The page raised an eyebrow. “You know I turned on both my masters. That I am a coward. What would you trust me with?”

“Well, not disguises, clearly.” Kyubei caught the curl of a slight smile on Ranmaru’s lips. “I’d want you to gather information from the daimyo loyal to the shogun. Nothing to do with either of your masters directly. No need to dig yourself a deeper grave.”

“I’d report everything to the Ikko Ikki too.”

Kyubei shrugged. “I’m fine with that? If Kenny’s monks act on the information, I doubt it will be to prop Ashikaga up further.”

Ranmaru chewed at his lip, thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I guess I can do that. Just until I find where Kennyo has gone and what he needs of me.”

“Then we have a deal. But I do have one more question before I leave you.”

“What?” The page eyed him, suspicious again.

Kyubei tapped his finger on the table, almost afraid of his own question. Asking it would be giving information away, but he needed to know. “Have you seen or heard from Akechi since the night of the attack on Azuchi?”

Chapter Text

Miyake was nervous. He did his best to hide it; a professional always displayed confidence. His job today was to stay with Lady Akechi, to keep her safe and happy. Normally, he’d consider it an easy task. A pretty girl, a new place to explore … but this was his Lord’s wife! And … other complications.

He swallowed.

“Do you want to go shopping too, Miyake? I see you’re wearing another of Sasuke’s t-shirts.” The lady smiled back at him as she asked.

“Nope! I’m good. I like this shirt. And the ninja took me out for some pants that fit too. I’m just here to keep you safe on the errands you need to run.” He glanced up at the tall tall buildings to their right and left. “Where, uh, do you want to go?”

Her shoulders sagged. “It’s not so much what I want to do as what I should. I need to stop by the clothing designer here - the place that hired me. To apologize for disappearing like I did.”

“Think they’ll be mad?”

“I hope not.” She mumbled something else, something Miyake didn’t catch.

“What was that?”

“Oh. Ah, just that I imagine they won’t be nearly as hard to apologize to as my family.”

Miyake nodded. Families were tough. He’d left his own to go serve Akechi, and never looked back. Not everyone could or would do that.

The lady stopped at a gift shop to pick up flowers for her former co-workers. Miyake didn’t let her lift a thing. Better safe than sorry. He even offered to carry her bag - her purse, she called it - but she wouldn’t let him.

Then they rode the train - which would have been fun if there’d been a seat for the lady. Standing, Miyake spent the whole time worried she might fall. Every little lurch made his jaw clench.

She seemed to notice his concern, and when they got off the train, stopped. “Miyake, I’m not that fragile. I don’t know what Mitsuhide threatened you with, but I promise, I’m perfectly capable of carrying things, walking, and standing on my own.” She laughed. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I know, my lady. But it just seemed like … in your uh, your state …” He gestured helplessly. Neither the lady nor his lord had said a word, and it seemed wrong to just put it out there before they did.

“My state?”

Miyake tried to hide behind the bouquets in his arms. “Ah, maybe it’s the wrong word. But hey! Isn’t that the shop you’re looking for?” It was a two-story building. A large sign hung above the double glass doors, with a spool of thread and a needle.

The lady turned. “Yep. That’s the place.” She squared her shoulders like a soldier going into battle. “Let’s do this.”

Grateful for the topic change, Miyake followed her across the street and inside.

The woman at the front counter recognized her immediately. Rather than anger, her face lit up with a big smile. “You’re ok!” She called out, “Hey ladies, our new hire just showed up six months late.”

Lady Akechi blushed deeply.

Three heads peered past the corner and then the other designers filed into the room. Besides the young lady at the counter that recognized Lady Akechi, there was an older woman with red cheeks and a round face, a short, thin girl with ponytails, and a tall woman that looked like she might arm-wrestle in her spare time.

There was a round of re-introductions between the five of them, hand shakes, and bows. Lady Akechi apologized several times, giving them a general outline of how she met and fell in love with Mitsuhide. And then came the barrage of questions.

“Is this the guy you left us for,” one asked, coming over to inspect Miyake.

“N-no, he works for him though. Oh! And those flowers are for you.” She gestured for Miyake to hand them out.

He dutifully gave out the bouquets under the speculative stairs of four strange women.

“Huh,” said another. “So you found some rich guy and now you don’t need to work? Lucky!”

“This one’s pretty cute though,” the older lady said.

The short one with her ponytails smiled bashfully. She hid her smile behind her hand.

Lady Akechi stumbled over her words. “Oh - oh, I still work. I just do commissions now. And ah, ah, that’s Miyake.” She pointed to the older woman. “Miyake, this is Aiko.” She gestured to ponytail girl, “And Masako.” She nodded to the girl from the counter, “Takara,” and then to the tall woman, “And that’s Kei.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Miyake bowed. He felt himself blush under the weight of their gazes. He hoped this apology and leave-taking wouldn’t take too long, but that was a futile dream.

The women invited them out for tea, and promptly closed the shop. They walked, chattering together, to a cafe nearby.

Masako hung back to walk beside Miyake. She kept glancing up at him, shy but forward. After a block or so, she shoved a piece of paper into his hand and then hurried back up to join the other women.

Miyake looked at the paper. It had some numbers on it. Some sort of code? Was Masako a kunoichi? He studied the paper. Ten digits. Three numbers and a dash, three more numbers, a dash, and then four more numbers. The number 2 repeated. Huh.

He put it away when they got to the cafe. The place smelled strongly of coffee, a bitter beverage that people in this era seemed to enjoy. Miyake preferred tea. There were glass cabinets with sweets on display too. Things he didn’t even begin to recognize.

“What would you like,” lady Akechi asked. “I’m getting a cold coffee and some financiers.”

Aiko laughed at the expression on his face as he scrutinized the display. “You look like you’ve never been to a French bakery before.”

He nearly admitted he hadn’t, but he knew better than to give information away. Instead he just smiled. “It all looks so good. What do you recommend?”

Takara shrugged. “If you like sweets, the macarons are great. Otherwise, get a croissant or some brioche.”

“I like the crepes,” Mayako added.

He wound up getting the crepes and a tea. While the girls continued their chatter, now asking lady Akechi about her whirlwind romance and her future plans, he focused on his plate. Miyake prodded the food suspiciously. What was a crepe made of? What was in it and on it? Nothing looked familiar.

Miyake picked up the fork the way Sasuke taught him, cut off a piece of fluffy golden crepe and some of the fruit and poofy white stuff inside, and then stuck it in his mouth. The flavors hit him all at once. Sweet and buttery, the texture smooth as velvet, contrasting with the tart fruit.

“I think he likes it,” Aiko grinned.

“I know how to make crepes,” Mayako spoke up.

Takara elbowed her.

Kei laughed. “Men don’t usually order stuff like that here. Glad you’re not shy about what you like.”

Lady Akechi gave him a gentle pat on the arm. “He doesn’t go out for sweets often.”

Miyake nodded, feeling his cheeks flush again. Going into battle was easier than sitting through tea with a bunch of women, he thought.

When the ladies returned to their conversation, he felt safe enough to polish off the crepes, and order a second round. By that point, Aiko and Kei were giving lady Akechi tips on how to keep her man, and Miyake wished he could turn his ears off.

The conversation finally wound down, and the group returned to the clothier shop.

“You know,” Takara said, eyeing lady Akechi, “if you’re going to be around at least a few weeks, I have a commission or two you could pick up. Since you’re still working.”

“I’d love that!” The two of them headed to the back of the shop, and Miyake followed.

Masako gestured for him to stop. “That’s not for customers.”

“I’m not a customer.” He stopped though. From here, he could see lady Akechi and the other woman chatting beside some bundles of fabric.

The girl squinted up at him. She was, he thought, exceptionally short for a grown woman. “Are you some kind of mafia guy? Yakuza? Are you in a gang?”

“What?” Miyake’s eyes widened.

“I won’t tell anyone. Just me and Kei thought, the way you follow her around, you must be hired muscle.”

“I work for Lord Akechi,” he said slowly. “He is not … any of those things. I think.”

Masako frowned. “Fine. Don’t tell me. At least, don’t tell me yet.” She tugged at a ponytail, pulling it over one eye. “Maybe you can tell me when you … when you call me.”

From behind them, Kei snorted. “That is not how you flirt, Masako. You sound like a salesman.”

“I do not!” The shorter girl bristled. “Just because I’m not pushy like you!”

“Guys like pushy. Makes it easy for them to say yes.” She was standing pretty close, Miyake realized. She’d come up behind him and now he was trapped between the two women. He turned to look at Kei.

This was the wrong thing to do.

When he turned, she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. It was … not a bad kiss. She was clearly experienced. Still, he gently pushed her away.

“See? Now if I gave him my number, you know he would call me.” Kei smiled smugly.

Masako looked furious. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

Mikaye understood now that he was the cause of this bizarre argument. A few days ago, he might have enjoyed being fought over by two attractive women. Not today. Today, he knew who he was going to marry and it surely wasn’t either of them. “I’m sorry ladies. I am already spoken for.”

“Oh sure! All the hot guys already have girlfriends.” Masako threw her hands up.

Kei chuckled. “What she doesn’t know, hm?”

“I ah, appreciate that, but -” He looked down the hall toward lady Akechi. She was lifting one of the cloth bundles. “My lady, no!” Miyake pushed past Masako. He lunged into range and grabbed the cloth out of her hands.

“What are you doing?” She looked stunned. A few bits of thread still stuck to her fingers.

Miyake grimaced. “You can’t be picking things like this up, my lady. It’s not safe for the baby.”

The four shop women all gasped at the same time. “You’re pregnant?” The question was a chorus of sharp disapproval to happy surprise.

Lady Akechi’s hands went to her hips. “No! Not, not as far as I know. Miyake?” One eye brow lifted and the expression was so like Mitsuhide’s that Miyake nearly handed back the bundle of cloth, certain he was wrong.

But he knew she had to be with child. Otherwise the dates wouldn’t add up. “I - sorry my lady. I know you didn’t announce it yet.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Miyake took a deep breath. “Well. Yesterday, you know how I got quizzed by those professors?”

“Mhmmm.”

“They said I’m going to marry your daughter. Lord Akechi’s daughter, I mean. So I assumed …”

The four women burst into a whole new round of excited questions and now Miyake was the focus.

Lady Akechi came to his rescue. “I think Miyake’s just being … metaphorical. Yes. Not literal. Because I’m not pregnant. And anyway, ah, it really is time for us to go! But I’ll be back in a few weeks with the evening gown you commissioned. Thanks for that!”

Saying goodbye still took half an hour more, but they did get out and back onto the street alone.

Miyake snuck a look at his lord’s woman. She looked angry. Or worried. Maybe both. She kept touching her belly as if to be sure there was nothing new there.

“I’m not pregnant,” she said after they’d walked a little way back toward the train station. “I think I’d be able to tell. I mean, Mitsuhide and I, we don’t … you know, we just … but it takes awhile to make a baby, right? Like, lots and lots of …”

He swallowed. “Uh, sure? I mean, I knew some girls that got babies after one night with a man, but, I don’t know?”

“But not me. I’d know,” she said more firmly. “But … let’s stop at a pharmacy before we go home.”

***

Mitsuhide was having a fantastic day. He and Sasuke were riding the train out to the university. He tried to memorize the map of train stations, and even took a snapshot of it on his phone before Sasuke showed him how to download the ‘app.’

“Are you planning on traveling places on your own? I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Mitsuhide smiled obliquely. “I don’t know yet. But that is the problem for me here. I don’t know many things.”

After a moment, the ninja nodded. “And that is also why you agreed to come with me today.”

“Yes.”

Sasuke bowed slightly. “It would be my honor to teach you whatever you want to learn in this modern day.”

“You have me at a disadvantage but do not seek to exploit it?” One white eyebrow lifted in a gesture his fiancee was mimicking half a city away.

“No. I wouldn’t do that to the man my modern era bestie loves.”

Mitsuhide pressed. “This, despite working for my sworn enemies, Takeda and Uesugi?”

Sasuke’s shoulders tensed. “Yes. And technically, they are Nobunaga’s sworn enemies, not yours. And in this day, they are dead.”

“I see. You are desperately balancing your allegiances and rationalizing your actions to suit the situation and your preferred outcome. Are you sure you aren’t interested in a job?”

“You aren’t in a position to hire me.” Sasuke’s mouth quirked into what Mitsuhide was realizing was his smile.

The warlord nodded. “True. Perhaps I will ask again when we return home. Which will be …”

Sasuke flushed. “I am not certain. Perhaps, three months? The magnetic device I put together to predict and to enhance the conditions surrounding the wormhole was destroyed when we were pulled through.”

“So we could be stranded here.”

“Yes.” Sasuke’s voice was very quiet as he agreed.

“You seem unusually disturbed by that. Yet, this is your home?”

The ninja shrugged. “It was. We should be going now. The professors will be waiting for you, and we still need their help.”

Mitsuhide knew he hadn’t gotten to the reason for Sasuke’s unhappiness at their current predicament. He needed to know why the ninja was perturbed, but good intel took time. Instead, he spent the rest of the trip to the university solving the mysteries of bank cards and how to operate a smart phone.

The university was a pleasant surprise. A vast complex of buildings dedicated to furthering knowledge and culture. There was one entire center given to poetry and literature. Another to medicine. One to agriculture. Walking through them made Mitsuhide miss his friends. He thought of Ieyasu and Mitsunari, of how they would enjoy the time to page through these endless shelves of books and scrolls.

He thought too, of his lord, and the oceans of blood they shed to reach this place. This time. Mitsuhide could not help but wonder if there was ever another way to get here, to this, or if war and sacrifice was the only way forward.

It was with these troubling thoughts in mind that he sat down across a desk from two aged men. One of them looked deeply distrustful, while the other seemed excited. The excitable one was Sasuke’s contact, and they greeted each other familiarly before the ninja introduced him.

“Professor Fukuda, this is Akechi Mitsuhide,” Sasuke bowed to his friend. “And this is Professor Sakai.”

The men greeted one another and then the questions began.

“So you claim to be the historical figure, Akechi Mitsuhide? The traitor of the Oda?”

“I do.” Mitsuhide smiled sharply.

The enthusiastic professor Fukuda nodded, interrupting. “No need to be hostile to the man. Just ask your questions. For verification.”

“Hmph. As if I can verify an impossibility. But … the other one, Hidemitsu, he was very convincing. Alright.” And he proceeded to ask about minutiae. Random details. The color of this, the material of that, the name of this or that scribe, and so on.

Mitsuhide wore his patient mask. The face of the eager servant, he called it. He answered the questions as fully as he could until finally, the skeptical Sakai ran out of steam.

“Are you satisfied, sir? Do you believe me now?” Sasuke waited for a reply.

“I suppose I have no choice. Besides, Professor Fukuda was showing me the formula for your time travel theorem. I’m no physicist, but it looks solid. And … Mister Akechi answered everything correctly. Down to the last detail!”

Mitsuhide took a breath. That was one obstacle down. “Now that I have your confidence, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

Fukuda took a breath. “Sasuke already gave us a list of your needs -”

“Yes. He provided the beginnings of our requirements. There is more.”

“Well? Go on then,” Sakai gestured.

Mitsuhide nodded. “I require unrestricted access to your libraries and data - databases. I will require an assistant to teach me how to navigate your net-work, and may also need to use your laboratories, which you will allow with proper safety measures in place.”

The two professors exchanged a glance and then nodded. “Done. Is that all?”

“No. I’ve one more request. I may at some time, need,” he glanced to Sasuke, fishing for the word from his new vocabulary. “Scholars. Scholars’ ships.”

“Scholarships. For special situation admittance,” the ninja added helpfully.

“Yes, that. Three of them.”

Fukuda leaned forward on his elbows. “Is it for more of you people from the past?”

“No. Let’s say, as a reward of sorts for some of those assisting us. I am not in a position here to offer them places in my retinue or at my castle. But I will provide for them.” Mitsuhide’s eyes were hard. This was not a negotiable point.

“Why not,” Sakai waved toward the window. “We have people drop out of programs all the time from the stress of studies. It shouldn’t be a problem to put three people in.”

Mitsuhide relaxed back into his chair. “Then we have a deal.”

*In IRL history, Miyake marries Mitsuhide’s daughter and takes the name Akechi Hidemitsu so I decided to include that tidbit!

Chapter Text

Kyubei bowed low and held the position. It wasn’t his first time to report to Nobunaga, but it was his first time to do so without explicit instructions from his lord. His expression betrayed none of his inner misgivings.

“Report.” Nobunaga’s tone was flat, hiding his own frustration.

Hideyoshi and Masamune weren’t trying to hide theirs. The one-eyed dragon was pacing and Toyotomi’s scowl could have peeled paint.

“There is no evidence,” Kyubei cleared his throat, “that the forces at Kasugayama are involved in the attacks on Azuchi. However -” he paused. This was the part that made him sweat. “The disappearance of Lord Akechi and the lady chatelaine coincide with the vanishing of their ninja, Sarutobi Sasuke.”

“I don’t believe it.” Masamune stopped, one hand dropping to his sword hilt. “There’s no way that ninja got the drop on Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi nodded. “Agreed. My guess is that they are working together.”

Kyubei interrupted. “I find that unlikely, my lord. At least, in the manner you suggest. If I may?”

Nobunaga indicated he should continue.

“My sources tell me Shingen Takeda is ill, and between the loss of his ally and his ninja, Kenshin is unstable. Seeking conflict within his own forces as well as outside. It is unlikely that Lord Akechi is aiding Kasugayama. Though he must have known Sarutobi’s absence might …” He frowned, wondering how much he should imply, what he could suggest.

Ieyasu saved him the need. “Mitsuhide was making plans for an extended absence. I think we should consider that he has left, with Sasuke, to visit the chatelaine’s homeland.”

Mitsunari nodded. “This would make sense. There could be something about the events of the night he disappeared that forced them to leave sooner than he expected.”

“There’s more to it, and if I know that snake -” Hideyoshi’s rant was cut short by Nobunaga’s raised hand.

“Enough. I did not wish to bare Akechi’s secrets, but Ieyasu is correct. Mitsuhide sought my permission to take the chatelaine to her home. He was uncertain how long they would be gone.”

The room exploded with sound, warlords talking over one another. Hideyoshi was ranting about safety and plots; Masamune demanded permission to seek them out. Keiji was laughing. Ieyasu and Mitsunari were relatively silent, waiting for the excitement to die down.

Nobunaga’s carnelian eyes quieted each man in turn.

When he could be heard again, Kyubei continued. “I made contact with Ranmaru. He is seeking out the forces responsible for the attack on Azuchi, along with other spies in our network.”

“Ranmaru? That boy is afraid of his own shadow. Completely unreliable,” Hideyoshi muttered, not unkindly. “He should be here.”

Kyubei couldn’t help the slight smile at that. He didn’t approve of Ranmaru’s tangled loyalties, but one could not argue with his ability to act a part. “Of course, my lord. But Ranmaru insisted. And he does have many friends to rely on for information.”

Ieyasu stood. “This doesn’t answer my questions though. Where is the chatelaine? Is she safe? When will she return? We all know Akechi has his … plans. I’m not worried about him. He’ll turn up when and where he wants to. But she’s -”

“You’re worried about her!” Mitsunari beamed. “I knew you were just trying to hide it when you told me-”

“Shut up.” Ieyasu glared. “I’m just … the enemy could use her against us. We need to know where she is.”

“Agreed,” Masamune spoke up. “I will put together a team. We’ll find her.”

“My lords, I am afraid she and Mitsuhide are beyond any team.” Kyubei sighed. “The greater concern is what this impacts and how it will be used against us. The Ikko Ikki are moving. The Mouri clan have resumed pirating, and we know it was Kichou that executed the attack on Azuchi. In addition, we have rumors the shogun in exile is drawing a new following.”

Mitsunari frowned. “Yes, I reviewed several shipment records and troop movements from old loyalist daimyo. It appears we are not done with the shogun as of yet.”

Kyubei bit his lip. The scribe they’d installed should have been satisfied to live in luxurious exile, but it seemed the old shogun’s loyalist stirred his greed. Or maybe they were using him as a puppet. He had no way to know, as the spies in Ashitaka’s court had all fallen silent.

Nounaga spoke again. “Hideyoshi, you and Keiji will pursue the Mouri. Masamune, I want you to make contact with Kasugayama. Offer a truce. See what they can offer up about their missing ninja. They may be willing to hunt down our enemies with us, as it does them no benefit to see this land descend into chaos.” His gaze fell on Ieyasu. “You will join Kyubei’s efforts to track down Mitsuhide and the chatelaine. Your research and his current knowledge will yield results.”

“May I assist Lord Tokugawa?” Mitsunari’s innocent smile could have been worn by an angel. He was completely oblivious to the sudden grimace on his friend’s face.

“You may, in your spare time. I need your mind fixed on calculating provisions, troop movements, bridges, and roads. There will be fighting soon.”

Mitsunari acquiesced with a bow.

Kyubei delivered the rest of his report, and then was dismissed. He went straight to the Akechi mansion and opened a bottle of sake. Alcohol was a vice he rarely indulged in, but today he felt like he needed it. He’d exposed some of his lord’s business without permission. He had no idea how or if this would impact Akechi’s plans. And now … he’d be working with Ieyasu. It would be difficult to keep the secrets he needed to keep.

He kept drinking until the room spun and the lights all wore halos. Kyubei might have kept it up, but he ran out of bottles and couldn’t make the walk to fetch more. Instead, he fell asleep, sprawled out on the floor of his lord’s office.

***

Mitsuhide felt a mix of relief and distress when his little one explained the plastic stick on the bathroom counter. It meant they were not having a child together. Not yet, at any rate. And this was good. He was in no position here to father a child. But …

The image of himself holding a child. His. Hers. His heart felt too big for his chest, thinking of what such a child would be like. His very own son or daughter. One with his love’s sweetness. His eyes. Her nose. His perception. Knowing there was no such child made him ache, as if he had an old bruise, a wound that hadn’t healed. Which was completely irrational. 

He looked out the train window at the rapidly passing countryside. Trees. Hills. Houses. Different and not so different from the world he knew. He should be spending this time planning the next few days, not moping. Kitsunes did not mope.

“Are you ok? Are you nervous?” His little mouse put her hand on his leg, comforting.

“Yes and yes.” Mitsuhide turned his head to give her a sideways smile. “I have never had to meet the parents of my betrothed.” He had expected Nobunaga to marry a woman to him for political purpose. Some well-bred noble daughter who knew how to run a house and had courtly manners. A woman he would never love, but could put up with, at a distance. Yet here he was. His little mouse truly upended his life in every way. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

She laughed. “It will be ok, really. I talked to okaasan and she is excited to meet you. She’s happy for us.”

“And you father?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll get used to the idea. He’s just … to him, I’m still a little kid. But I’m sure once he sees us together, he’ll come around.”

Mitsuhide was less certain about that. He’d known several fathers and they fell into two categories, most of the time. There were the men who could care less about their children beyond their use to the clan. And there were the men that treated their children as things of wonder. Not that they coddled them - but they cared. About their education, their work, their friends. He was sure his lover’s otousan fell into that second group.

The train stop came sooner than he might have liked. The two of them disembarked. There were only a handful of people getting off the train here, so it was easy to spot her parents.

They were dressed conservatively. Her father was a little shorter than Mitsuhide, and a little thicker around the middle. His greying hair was thin on top, and he wore glasses. Her mother was short and thin and wore a smile he would have known anywhere.

The parents caught sight of them at about the same time Mitsuhide’s study of them finished.

“Otou-chan! Okaasan!” His little mouse flung herself across the platform, and was swept up in a hug from both sides. Tears ran down her face, and her cheeks were stretched in a wide smile.

Mitsuhide felt out of place in this moment of familial warmth. He had no such experience himself, and did not want to intrude either way. He stood quietly, holding their bags. Waiting as they exchanged hugs, kisses, and stammered apologies and explanations. As if they could make up for half a year apart in a few minutes.

Her father finally looked up and met Mitsuhide’s gaze. His were dark and suspicious. Protective. “You.”

His little one smacked his arm. “Be nice, papa. This is my fiancé, Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide, this is my father, Minoru, and my mother, Youko.”

Mitsuhide bowed low. “I am pleased to meet you both.”

Her father didn’t reply, but her mother did. “We are so glad to meet you too! It was such a surprise … our little girl … disappearing and then -”

“And then coming back with a weird boyfriend,” her father interrupted.

Oh yes. This was already going very well. Just as expected. Mitsuhide straightened and put on his best ‘trust me’ smile. “If there were any way we could have done it differently, I promise we would have. I hope we’ll be able to lay any worries you have to rest.”

She stepped over to his side and took his arm. “Yes, I plan on explaining everything.” His little mouse was the one to look nervous now. And no wonder. After much discussion, they’d decided on telling her family a version of the truth.

In fact, Sasuke and Miyake were supposed to come out the following day to provide backup evidence for their story. But even with that, they were asking her parents to accept a lot all at once. Mitsuhide did not see their chances of success as being very high, but for her, he would try anything.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide sat on the edge of a stuffed chair, a ‘sofa’, across from his little one’s father. Minoru, for his part, didn’t look any more comfortable with the company. Neither of them said anything. He found that his usual silver tongue had run out of witticisms when faced with the twin challenge of a world 500 years in the future and the need to impress the father of his beloved.

In the kitchen, the chatelaine and her mother Youko were making dinner. Their lively chatter was the only sound as the two men studied each other.

Finally, Minoru cleared his throat. “So. How did you two meet?”

“The answer to that would require additional explanation. Suffice it to say, I met her in the course of my work. Initially, she was a responsibility of mine. To train her so that she knew enough to stay ali- ah, safe.” Mitsuhide smiled. “She was quite a handful.”

Minoru frowned. “Safe? Safe from what? What kind of business are you in?” He leaned forward.

“Intelligence and information gathering.” He silently thanked Sarutobi for the modern words to describe being a spy and torturer.

“You work for a government?” Minoru's expression was hard, his shoulders tense.

Mitsuhide nodded. “That is a good way to put it. Yes. For a government.”

His little mouse poked her head through the door. “Everything going ok, you two?”

Both men cleared their expressions and smiled over at her. “Yes,” they replied, almost in unison.

Her bright smile lit up the room. “I’m so glad. I wanted you two to get along. Anyway, dinner is almost ready!” She disappeared again and the smiles the two men wore faded like snow under a noon-day sun.

Minoru turned back to Mitsuhide. “How did my daughter get tangled up with some government agent? She designs clothes. She left for a job in fashion.” His voice is strained, half a year’s worth of worry and frustration pushing at the seams of his soul.

Mitsuhide nodded. “She is amazing at making clothing. That is a career she continues to pursue. But I met her the night she pulled my superior from a burning building. Had she not arrived when she did, he would have died.”

“My baby girl … pulled a man from a burning building?” Minoru’s eyebrows shot up, his expression one of incredulous disbelief.

“Yes, and after, he thought she should stay with our forces. For her protection and because he believed there was something special about her.” Mitsuhide’s thin smile reappeared. “He wasn’t wrong. She is very special. A wonder.”

Minoru coughed. “Well, yes, but … a burning building? She isn’t, that is, she wouldn’t just -”

Mitsuhide leaned forward. “You know her from her childhood. If she knew someone was going to burn to death and she had a chance to save them, would she leave them to die? Is it so unbelievable?”

He shook his head slowly. He knew his daughter was exactly the kind of girl to put herself at risk for another. “I should not be surprised. When she was five, she ran out into the street to stop traffic for a kitten. Almost got hit by a car. And it wasn’t until after the cat was safe that she even realized how close she came to dying.”

Both men chuckled.

“That sounds exactly like something my little mouse would do.”

Minoru scowled. “Your what?”

“A nickname,” Mitsuhide waved the comment off.

And then the call came for dinner. They all sat down around the table. A spread of familiar and strange foods that piqued Mitsuhide’s curiosity. He wondered which of these his beloved had made, and which her mother. To be safe, he thought, it would be wise to compliment every dish.

“So,” her mother began after everyone was served. “My daughter tells me you’re a warlord working for Oda Nobunaga?”

Mitsuhide choked in surprise, the bite of food sticking in his throat. He glanced at his little mouse for confirmation.

“It just sort of popped out while we were talking.” Mai had the grace to look embarrassed.

With effort and a glass of water, Mitsuhide swallowed and cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to bring this up until after dinner, but yes.”

Minoru scowled. “You’re telling me you work for a man 500 years dead?”

“I don’t know, he seemed pretty lively last time I saw him,” Mitsuhide quipped.

His little mouse grinned. “Papa, be nice! I told you, we will tell you everything.” She took a deep breath. “It started the day I arrived in Kyoto. I went sightseeing …”

Mitsuhide listened as attentively as her parents, this version of the tale filling in gaps and details he hadn’t known. Her timely rescue of Sasuke Sarutobi, her run-in with the forces from Kasugayama. It appeared his little one was better at keeping secrets that he’d credited.

Through the story, her mother made little sounds of agreement or surprise, but Minoru was deathly silent. His expression turned darker at every part until he couldn’t hold back anymore. “This sounds like some ridiculous cartoon! You can’t expect your mother and I to buy this. Tell the truth! What is he, some mafia? A gambler? What?”

Youko frowned at him from across the table. “Now you just hush and eat your food. If our little girl says this is what happened, I believe her. She has no reason to lie. She knows we support her no matter what. Don’t we, dear?”

Minoru’s brows lowered. “You can’t be serious. This, this man shows up with our daughter after months with no word! Not a letter! Not a post card! With this crazy story and we’re supposed to just -”

“Accept it. You know as well as I do that if our girl didn’t write or call, it’s because she couldn’t. When you think of it that way, it makes perfect sense.” Youko nodded to emphasize her point. “Besides, when have you ever known her to lie.”

“She’s terrible at that,” Mitsuhide added dryly.

Minoru’s scowl deepened. “Don’t talk like you know her. Maybe you drugged her or something, and now she thinks all that is true.”

Mitsuhide sighed. He’d expected this kind of reaction after Sasuke and his little one explained what ‘meeting the parents’ entailed. He was beginning to wish he could have simply sent some gifts and a contract, or better yet, left that to Nobunaga and simply married the girl. “We did bring some proof with us today, and we have friends tomorrow who can vouch for everything.”

Youko gave Mitsuhide an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you go get it? I’m sure it will make Mino a little less grouchy.”

“I’m not grouchy,” Minoru grumbled.

“You are, papa. But it’s ok. This is really all my fault. I wish I’d been able to call you both. I missed you so much.”

Her father swallowed whatever he’d planned to say, touched by his daughter’s affection.

Mitsuhide went to their bags and grabbed his sword and the clothes he’d arrived in. He carried them back to the dining area. These were unlikely to be enough, he thought, but it wasn’t as if they’d planned to be swept to this time that night.

“Our clothes -” he set them down, “and my sword.”

Minoru poked at the clothing, unimpressed. The sword, however, got his attention. “This … it isn’t just some decorative piece …” The words were quiet, said more to himself than anyone.

Still, Mitsuhide answered. “No. That blade has taken many lives.”

“And saved some too,” his little mouse added. “Mine included.”

Minoru looked between the two of them. “Maybe you’ve both lost your minds. This thing -” He pointed at the sword, “is clearly an antique, but that proves nothing.”

“You are so stubborn,” Youko huffed.

Mitsuhide was beginning to see where his little one got that quality. Sweetness from her mother, stubbornness from her father. It made him smile.

***

Miyake and Sasuke sat at a nearby bar, drinks in hand.

“So this is called karaoke?” Miyake eyed the screen with words that moved and then emptied his sake cup. “And I can sing whatever I want?”

“Not whatever. I doubt they have any songs you know on file. But I think the enjoyment quotient will still be high.” Sasuke began tapping through the song selection, his expression focused. He stopped when he came across one with the image of a pink-faced girl. “This one.”

Miyake shrugged. “Alright.”

The music started. It sounded nothing like the instruments Miyake knew, or the rhythms and beats that were familiar to him. Still, he could pick out the melody, and it was nice - if strange.

The first word on the screen lit up and Sasuke started singing. His voice was surprisingly pleasant, even though the lyrics were senseless.

Miyake joined him on the next verse, nodding to the beat. It was a cheerful tune, he thought. Perfect to drink to. He poured another glass for himself and the ninja.

They emptied that and another as the song ended. The next pick was Miyake’s. He chose one based on the picture, a cute girl in a ridiculously short skirt.

“This is the theme song for my favorite anime,” Sasuke grinned.

“Then I picked a good one?”

Sasuke patted his arm. “A great one.”

Two hours later, both of them were too drunk to walk straight. Their singing got louder as their ability to pronounce the lyrics dwindled.

“Todokete atsuku naru omi …” The song dissolved into drunken laughter.

Miyake threw an arm around Sasuke. “Y-you’re my besht - besht fren.”

Sasuke leaned into the hug. “N-now I have two! Two besht frienz - friends.” He grinned but the expression slid into a sad frown.

“Wha - what ish it?” Miyake peered at the ninja’s face. “Need more sake?”

“I - I wish my other fren wash here,” Sasuke hiccuped. “An Shingen. I wash goin- going to take him to a hoshpital.”

Miyake nodded, though he didn’t understand. “Maybe nexsht time?”

“If he livesh,” Sasuke sighed.

“To Shingen,” Miyake poured them another round of sake. “And nexsht time!”

They drank to the toast.

Sasuke poured another. “And to friendsh we lef-left behind.”

They drank to that too.

After several more toasts that grew further away from the original point - to short skirts and lady’s stockings, to coffee, to the karaoke bar - the two men finally paid their tab and stumbled to the hotel.

Miyake nearly puked on the elevator, as the movement made his stomach flip. He would have taken the stairs, if he thought he could find the steps. He leaned on Sasuke as they walked down the hall. It felt like their room was miles away.

Sarutobi fumbled with the lock, and when the door opened, they fell inside.

Between leaning on each other and the walls, they managed to stand again.

“I’m go-gonna shower,” Miyake mumbled.

“Me nexsht,” Sasuke agreed. He tripped toward the beds and fell into the nearest one, face first.

Miyake made it to the shower, but didn’t manage to turn it on. He slumped to the floor and leaned his head back on the cool tiles, falling into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

“So … separate beds?” Mitsuhide’s wry smile was only a little bitter.

“Yes. I know it’s silly. I’d … I’d rather be in there with you.” The chatelaine, soon to be Lady Akechi, looked down, her expression a mixture of shame and defiance.

“It’s fine. I will have you all to myself soon enough. What is a night or two apart?”

She looked up without raising her head, trying to gauge his emotions.

Mitsuhide wasn’t having any of that. He took her chin between his finger and thumb and gently lifted until her gaze met his. “It is fine.” Then he leaned forward to brush a kiss across her cheek. With his lips almost close enough to touch her skin, he added. “Are you so eager to be in my arms again? Do you want to … test out the guest room? Or your childhood bed?”

He had the intended effect. She shivered and licked her lips. “You are so bad!”

“You are the one protesting our brief separation.” Mitsuhide pressed another kiss to her cheek and leaned back.

She crossed her arms. “You’re right. It’s just a few nights. But when we get back to the city -” a wicked smile turned her lips up at the corners, promising all sorts of fun.

“So forward, my little mouse. So eager. You make me wish we were home already.”

“That’s the idea.” She turned and threw him a saucy look. “Something to dream about.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “Good night, little one.” Something to dream about indeed. He watched her hips as she walked down the hall, until she turned into her room and shut the door. She really had no idea what impact she had on him. He wondered if it was his practiced art of hiding his true emotion, or simply that she couldn’t see how beautiful she was. How desirable.

He went into the room and shut the door. It was so strange. The electronic hum of household devices. The cold fluorescent light from the street lamps in his window. Distant traffic sounds blending with barking dogs and strains of music. Mitsuhide felt suddenly very alone and very out of place.

Despite his refusal, the thought of spending one night, much less three, without his little one, felt impossible. A burden too heavy for him to bear. He needed to feel her in his arms, to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart. Her warmth grounded him in this strange place.

Mitsuhide gave a dry, soundless laugh. Who was the little mouse now?

Slowly, meditatively, he dressed for bed and lay down. He would embrace this world, different as it was from his own. He had to, because it was the one that gave birth to his beloved. And so, listening to the heartbeat of this small town, the viscous thrum of modern life, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The morning found him better rested than he expected. The home hummed with activity around him, the sound of water running in the nearby bathroom and the clatter of cooking in the kitchen. It was so similar to what he knew, but still different enough to create a slight tension in him. He dressed quickly and went to knock on his little one's door, but she was already up. 

Mitsuhide found her in the kitchen, helping her mother with breakfast. She hurried to him and gave him a hug as he came in. Just as her father came in. She didn't see his frown, but Mitsuhide could not miss it. He released her reluctantly and gave her father a smile. "Good morning."

"Yes. Morning." Minoru eyed him suspiciously. 

"Did you sleep well, dear?" Youko asked as she brought plates to the table. 

He nodded. "Yes, thank you. The guest bed was very comfortable." The polite lie rolled off his tongue with sincerity. He could tell Minoru was fishing for some sign that his daughter had not slept alone. But she had and there was no evidence to discover.

The chatelaine sensed her father's purpose and nudged him. "Come on, papa. Sit down. Do you want tea or coffee?"

He sat with a grumble and asked for coffee. 

Youko and the chatelaine chatted over breakfast and through the morning, a cheerful backdrop to the silent battle going between Minoru and Mitsuhide.

For Mitsuhide's part, he kept smiling, which only seemed to further irritate Minoru. Even more so when he gave cheerfully obtuse answers to the handful of questions her father spat out. It was a long morning, but seeing the happiness on his little one's face made it worth it. He would not fail this battle.

Thankfully, Miyake and Sasuke arrived for lunch, providing a break in the household tension. They met up at a local restaurant. Youko was friends with the owner and able to borrow a few tables in the back for privacy.

Minoru, the chatelaine’s often grumpy father, seemed to be on his best behavior. Not smiling, but distantly polite to the two newcomers. He thawed a little when his daughter threw her arms around each of the men in greeting.

No one said much as they ate. Youko and Minoru sat beside their daughter on one side of the table, glancing up at her strange friends. Sasuke, Mitsuhide and Miyake sat across from them, looking nervous.

It was Sasuke who finally broke the silence. He cleared his throat. “I understand your daughter told you about our time in the Sengoku. Understandably, you want proof. You have questions. We are here to give you what evidence we can.”

Minoru snorted. “What do you get out of this charade?” He gestured to Mitsuhide. “Is he paying you?”

Miyake looked as if he wanted to speak up, but Sasuke beat him to it. “No. I am here because your daughter is my friend.” He reached into his bag. “I know it isn’t much, but I brought my ninja kit as proof. These - these are smoke pellets. And that is a kunai. This is a sleeping poison, and this -” he went through the items, explaining what they were and how he made them. Detailed descriptions of the tools and materials he had available.

When Sasuke finished, Minoru looked thoughtful.

Youko smiled across as Sasuke. “You seem a very resourceful young man. And you are also the one that discovered these wormholes?”

“Yes ma’am.” Sasuke dipped his head, embarrassed by the compliment.

“It could just be you have a - a fascination with this stuff. Read a lot. Saw some movies,” Minoru said. His gruff voice held more than a hint of doubt. Even he didn’t buy his own explanation.

Sasuke nodded. “I could have. But even that would not yield the encyclopedic knowledge I’ve developed. I would go into greater detail, but I imagine you don’t have the underlying historical education to make use of most of the information I could provide. Unless … Are you a history buff?” His voice sounded different at the end, as if this question was important. Light glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes. The air around him was charged, almost crackling with a sudden and unexpected energy.

“No. I can’t say I am,” Minoru replied.

“Hm, too bad.” The strange tension in the ninja disappeared as suddenly as it came.

Mitsuhide nudged Miyake. The warrior muttered something under his breath and then rolled his shoulders. “Alright, old man. I don’t blame you for doubting us. I’d think I was crazy too, or lying. But what Lady Akechi told you is true. She’s been living with my lord for the last few months. And it’s a good thing too. He smiles a lot more now. Eats too, and sleeps almost like a human.”

“Miyake,” Mitsuhide growled. “That’s not the kind of evidence they need to hear.”

“Sorry, but it’s the truth. And if you don’t mind me saying, well, even if you do, your daughter makes for one hell of a princess. She makes the servants happy to do a good job because she notices the little things. And the guards … they’d all die for her, and not just because Lord Akechi demands it. She’s kind and good to all of us. I don’t get to spend time at the castle, but I hear how she remembers birthdays and congratulates newlyweds and -”

Youko laughed, a sound Mitsuhide recognized. Much like his own little one, but matured. More elegance with just the same amount of joy. “It sounds like you have a following,” she smiled at her daughter.

The chatelaine blushed. “I really don’t. He’s exaggerating, mom. Really.”

“He is not,” Mitsuhide chided. “Though I don’t think that’s the kind of proof her father -”

Minoru interrupted, his gruff voice quieting the table. “It’s clear you’ve gotten to know her. My little girl.” He gave her a brief smile. “I am still … it’s a lot to take in. This wild story. But she stands by it and there is clearly - something true in it.”

His daughter hugged him. “I knew you’d come around, papa.”

He dislodged himself from her unexpected embrace. “I didn’t say I’m buying the whole story. Just,” he waved his hand, “some of it rings true.”

The tension at their table eased, and conversation began to flow more naturally. Youko and Minoru had a lot of questions, and were finally ready to hear the answers.

***

Kyubei followed Ranmaru through the thick forest undergrowth, barely able to make out the dirt path he led them down. This was supposed to lead to a safe house, one that Kennyo agreed to meet him in. He wished the demon-abbot had a taste for teahouses instead of abandoned forest shacks, but it could be worse.

He could be with Hideyoshi, hunting Motonari across the ports. Kyubei wasn’t afraid of pirates, but being on a boat … the constant roll of the ocean waves made him sick as a dog. No matter how many trips he made, he never gained any kind of tolerance for the motion. So this, the dirt and the bugs and the thick air under the trees, was a better deal all around.

“This is it.” Ranmaru stopped just before the path opened on a small clearing. There was a half-rotted shack ahead, once a shrine to some local deity, now fallen into disrepair.

Kyubei was surprised to see he wasn't’ the only one here to speak to the monk. Another familiar figure sat on the wooden steps outside the shrine. “Shingen?”

Takeda grinned up at him, pushing a lock of sweaty hair out of his face. “If it isn’t Mitsuhide’s maid!” He laughed. “Kidding, kidding! I just expected to see the kitsune out here himself.”

“He is otherwise engaged.”

“Is he?” Shingen’s smile was dangerous now. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with our missing ninja, would it?”

“If it does, I’ll send him your head,” Yukimura spoke up from somewhere to Kyubei’s left.

Ranmaru put his hands up, laughing as if this were all so silly. “It’s too early for threats. Come on! Let’s make some tea and relax. The abbot will be here shortly.”

Kyubei turned his head a fraction, just enough to see Yukimura lower his spear. “Tea would be good.” He ignored the younger warrior’s scowl as he followed Ranmaru to the shrine.

He didn’t sit, but stood near Takeda, resting his back against a tree.

Shingen, for his part, pretended to be fully relaxed. It wasn’t quite effective though. His brow held a waxy sheen, his eyes looked sunken and fevered. Worse, his breathing was labored. A rasp, harsh as a winter cough.

Kyubei watched him carefully. This was a bad situation. A dying man had fewer qualms than one that had to live with his decisions. He hadn’t realized Takeda was so bad off though, despite the reports he’d received. The Tiger of the Kai was legend. Not a man to be taken down by sickness. And yet.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Yukimura snapped, coming to stand beside his lord.

Shingen chuckled. “So protective, Yuki.” His laugh turned into a thick, unproductive cough. When he finally got control of himself, he directed his attention to Kyubei. “So. Where did your lord and my ninja go off to? And don’t tell me you don’t know. There’s too much tying their disappearance together. I’d rather not have to kill you today for lying to me.”

Another situation he wished he had his lord’s guidance. What information was safe to pass along, and what plans would the ripples of this conversation affect? Kyubei swallowed. “I suspect they have gone to visit the chatelaine’s home. 500 years in the future.”

Shingen nodded as if this was the answer he expected. “Sasuke asked me if I’d like to visit his hometown. He said - he said they could cure me.”

“And then he left without you.” Yukimura punched the shrine wall, causing the whole building to tremble.

Ranmaru poked his head out. “Hey! Careful or you’ll bring the whole thing down on my head!”

“Sorry,” Yukimura growled.

“If it is any consolation, I don’t believe Lord Akechi or Sarutobi departed when they did intentionally. The information my lord left indicates the trip was meant to take place later. He was still … putting things in place for his extended absence.”

“That’s bull,” Yukimura grumbled, but he relaxed his grip on the spear.

They had no more time to talk it over as Kennyo’s shadow fell across the clearing. He came out of the trees like a spirit, the rings on his staff clinking. “It appears you found me. Again.”

Shingen grinned. “Well, old friend, I did have to hunt through every abandoned shrine in the province to get to this one.”

Kennyo snorted in disbelief.

“Ranmaru brought me,” Kyubei bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“I have little time or patience for guests. Tell me what you want.” Kennyo crossed his arms.

“Your help with the false emperor.” Kyubei didn’t look up from his bow. “We both know Ashikaga is dead. The scribe we set up in his place, or the men around him, have gone astray.”

“I could care less. Let the exiled shogun harass the devil-king. Nobunaga and his pawns can go to hell.” Kennyo’s eyes were dark and full of anger. It radiated from him like heat from a fire.

Shingen shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I hate him too. But it’s not just him getting hit. These idiot daimyos in his retinue are conscripting farmers. Villagers. Innocent folk that should be left out of a power grab.”

The demon abbot’s eyes fell on his old friend. “And you believe this is a worse fate than what the Oda have in store for them?”

“I do.” Shingen’s gaze didn’t waver.

Kennyo’s shoulders shook and it took Kyubei a moment to realize the abbot was laughing. He shook his head. “You always were a fool, Shingen. But fine. I will tell you what I know. I don’t think you can stop what has been set in motion.”

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide did not know what an amusement park was. Park - yes, amusement - again, yes. Put the two together and he found himself picturing a stretch of grass full of laughing people. That was he thought of when his little mouse suggested they ‘go somewhere’ for a day or two. Just for fun. And it would give her parents some time to come to terms with all the information they'd taken in. The impossible truth of their daughter's disappearance and return.

This was neither a park, nor amusement. This mass of milling people, the smell of cooking food, and the distant roar of mechanized attractions. It reminded him of a festival, if he had to call it something. Only much larger, much fuller. More of everything. He was at once overwhelmed and impressed.

His little one clutched his hand tightly, as if afraid they might get separated in the milieu. Her smile was bright, excited. “That,” she pointed at one huge circular contraption, “is a ferris wheel. And those are swings. And that’s a, well, they call it a pirate ship but it’s nothing like that. It just goes back and forth. And there, that’s the roller coaster.”

He nodded at each one, “Excellent. And these are for entertainment? Show me how they work.”

“I’m afraid that would take more time than we have here today,” Sasuke spoke up. “Rather than explain, it is my hypothesis that you’ll best understand through experience.”

“It will be fun.” The chatelaine grinned ever wider.

Miyake looked around suspiciously. “I dunno. It looks like the whole point of these things is to put you in the air. People aren’t supposed to be in the air like that.”

“Are you afraid?” Mitsuhide couldn’t help his teasing tone.

“Of course not! It’s just - ya know. Not natural.” The warrior shoved his hands into his pockets.

“In that case, my little mouse, what is the highest ride you have here? The one that goes up the furthest?”

“Hm, probably The Tower? I never rode on that one though. It looks really scary.”

“Then we will do that one first.”

Sasuke opened his mouth, perhaps to disagree, but closed it again. He nodded once, and set off toward The Tower, beckoning the others.

Mitsuhide heard it before he saw it. Screaming. Laughter. How strange to hear them together. Then he spotted it. A blue needle that pointed skyward, and on it, little yellow carts that dropped and rose again.

Miyake’s eyes went wide. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“It is completely safe,” Sasuke reassured him. “There hasn’t been an accident on this ride in years.”

“Years?” The warrior paled.

“Come on, Miyake. It’s safer than a battlefield.” Mitsuhide led them into the line that wound toward the ride. It didn’t take long to get to the front.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” The chatelaine eyed the tower, her fingers tightening on his hand.

Mitsuhide squeezed back. “If you get scared, you can lean on me.”

They boarded and got buckled in. Miyake tugged at the harness. “Is this the only thing keeping me from falling? This?”

Sasuke nodded. “The straps are extremely effective. You’ll see.”

“I’d rather no-aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Miyake’s reply turned to a shriek as the ride rose. He stopped when it went still.

Mitushide would never admit it, but his heart was racing. This … amusement … was interesting. In this time, people frightened themselves for fun. The sensation of being lifted like this was incomparable to anything he’d lived through, but the rush of adrenaline reminded him of battle. The crystal-sharp clarity of the moment. Pulse pounding. Every breath precious.

Beside him, his little mouse gasped. “The view! This is amazing!” And she was right. He’d been so caught up in the sensation that he hadn’t looked around. From this vantage point, the world spread out below them. The ocean glittered sapphire blue. The grass was rolling, emerald green, and the park around them a bustling grid of tiny people and little shops.

Then the cart dropped.

His stomach flipped, his equilibrium spun. For a moment, his whole body lifted as if weightless, held in only by the fabric straps of the harness.

Miyake silently gripped the handles of the bar in front of them, eyes clenched shut.

Sasuke’s expression was flat, but Mitsuhide thought he was enjoying himself. He gave very little away, beside the twitch of his cheek muscle, a slight widening of his eyes.

The chatelaine shrieked and then laughed, pure joy at the experience.

As the little cart rose again, Mitsuhide found himself joining her. Both of them laughing, hands clasped. This was fun. This almost-fear. Exciting. He thought he was beginning to understand where his lover was from. This world where people were so safe, they created things to be afraid of as entertainment.

The Tower finally ended and they exited the ride. Sasuke was almost-smiling, and the his little mouse was beaming. Only Miyake looked displeased.

“If I’m gonna feel like I’m falling, I want it to be because I’m actually falling,” he muttered.

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I take it you aren’t interested in the roller coaster then? Or the ship?”

Miyake sighed. “If you go, I’ll follow you, my lord.”

“I didn’t expect you to be afraid of the rides,” the chatelaine said. She patted Miyake’s hand. “You know, there’s an aquarium to look at and some chil-ah, some rides that don’t go so high, or high at all! Maybe we should try those?”

Sasuke nodded. “I’ll take Miyake to the kid-ah, the shorter people rides.” He blinked both eyes several times as if trying to impart something.

“Sure. That sounds good. And maybe pick out a place for us to get a snack later?” She smiled widely at him and winked.

“Can do.” Sasuke gave her a mock-salute, then off he went with Miyake in tow.

Mitsuhide watched them go. “You sent him to the children’s rides? Why?”

“I think he’ll have more fun that way. Just don’t tell him they’re for little kids, ok?”

“I will keep your secret, on one condition.” Mitsuhide smiled down at her.

“What’s that?”

“You have to kiss me.”

She blushed. “Here and now?”

“Here and now.” He leaned closer. “Or are you afraid to-” He got no further in his taunt. She went up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Not a shy one either. It left him breathless and in no doubt as to how much she’d missed him the last few nights.

“If you keep that up, I’ll be the only ride you take this afternoon,” Mitsuhide mock-threatened.

“Oh? Think you’re more exciting than a roller coaster?” She raised an eyebrow, teasing him back.

“I don’t know - but I am sure you are.” He ran a finger along her palm.

It had the intended effect. Her face flushed and her eyes went wide. She was getting better at taunting him, but he knew how to get the better of her every time.

They rode the roller coaster next, and it was worth it. Hanging upside down over the ocean, speeding through curves and down impossible hills. Mitsuhide imagined how Masamune would love this, and Hideyoshi telling him it was dangerous and unnecessary. Mitsunari would probably spend his day looking at the underside, and be able to tell him how it was built. And Ieyasu …

“What are you thinking about?”

“Home,” Mitsuhide admitted.

“Me too.” His little one leaned against him with a sigh. “I am so glad I can show all this to you, but I can’t help but miss everyone. I thought coming back would be like coming home … but I feel like a visitor. Everything is familiar, but, it’s different too. Like - like I don’t really belong here anymore.”

He hugged her close, nuzzling the top of her head. Inhaling the sweet smell of her. “Does that make you sad? That this isn’t your home anymore?”

“Yes. And no. I know I will miss my family, my friends, when we go back. But I don’t think I’ll miss them more than Nobunaga and Hideyoshi and, well, everyone. I keep wondering what they are up to and if they are ok.”

“I do as well.” He kissed the top of her head. “I am sure they are fine, and miss us too.”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him, wiping her eyes. “We’re at an amusement park. Let’s not talk about sad things, ok?”

“Masamune would never forgive us for not enjoying the moment,” Mitsuhide smiled back. “So, what’s next?”

“Well … we could ride the ferris wheel?”

The two of them made their way toward the giant wheel, only to find Sasuke standing by himself nearby. Mitsuhide looked up at the little colorful cars swinging in the air. “Miyake is not up there.”

“Correct.” Sasuke gestured to a closed off arena to the right. “He’s in there. Bumper cars. I think this is his fifth round.”

“What is a bumper cars?” Mitsuhide asked over the sound of his little one’s laughter.

The ninja shrugged. “You get in a little car and try to smash against other little cars.” He looked toward the ride. “It is mostly full of teenagers and small children.”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I suppose he found a battlefield he can handle.”

The chatelaine covered her mouth. “Ooh, Mitsu! That’s mean! Let him have his fun.” She gave him a look and then focused on Sasuke. “Did you find a good spot for a snack?”

“I did. I assumed the two of you would end up here so I waited. Would you like to get something to eat before or after your incredibly romantic ride in the ferris wheel?”

“After, I think.”

Mitsuhide turned to her. “Incredibly romantic?”

“Of course. It’s a common trope in media that when a couple rides in a ferris wheel, it’s a very romantic moment.” Sasuke adjusted his glasses.

“I see.” Mitsuhide pulled her toward the ride entrance. “Then that is something I want to experience with you.”

Chapter Text

The ferris wheel rose slowly, and the lovers watched the park retreat below them. In the red glow of the setting sun, the world below looked surreal. Stained with crimson and pink, wavering in the dimming light, everything reduced to their simplest shapes.

Mitsuhide put his arm around his little one and kissed her temple. Touching her reassured him against fears he did not have the words to express.

“This is pretty romantic,” she sighed.

“It is … unexpected. Like a view from the tenshu. But higher. And it sways.” He shifted his weight, making the little cart swing back and forth. It had the desired effect.

His little mouse squeaked and clung tighter to him. “Don’t do that!”

“Hm? This?” He kissed her on the head again. “Or this?” He shifted, widening the cart’s arc.

“The second one!” Her little huff of fear and irritation made him laugh. “It isn’t funny,” she continued. “People have gotten stuck up here because of that. Making the ride move.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds unlikely. Are you lying to me, little mouse?” He bent close, letting his breath tickle her ear. “It’s not a wise idea to lie to a satori.”

She wriggled, which only made their cart swing more. “Ah, no! I heard it - somewhere!”

Mitsuhide’s hands went to her sides, his fingers finding her sensitive spots, the places that sent her into fits of laughter or pleasure, depending on the kind of touch.

“Mitsu! No! Don’t - don’t tickle me!” Her protests dissolved into a fit of giggling.

He laughed and pulled her close. “I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you up here.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She snuggled against his chest.

It was moments like this he treasured. Where their worries could be pushed aside and for just a little while, the world narrowed to this place and time, and only the two of them. Mitsuhide had to admit that this place was especially beautiful. The cool night air, the park and the sea spread below them, picked out with little twinkling lights in imitation of the night sky.

Without warning, the ferris wheel stuttered and shook. A high-pitched mechanical whine shrieked through the evening air as the entire ride swung to a halt.

Mitsuhide laughed and his little one laughed too. “Self-fulfilling prophecies, hm?”

“It’s still probably your fault.” She was smiling as she said it, her voice full of affection.

He tilted her face to his and kissed her. A gentle caress, trembling breath and pounding hearts. Fingers intertwined, palms touching. He wished this moment was endless, but nothing could last forever. Mitsuhide decided to enjoy this moment, however long it lasted. He pulled back and gave her a smile full of promise.

Meanwhile …

***

Sasuke made his way to the bumper car ride. It was a popular spot for young couples and even younger children, an odd mix of teen boys trying to tease and impress their dates and kids that just wanted to channel destruction for a little while. In the middle of that chaos, there was Miyake.

He crouched in the center of a ring of wide-eyed children. From this distance, Sasuke couldn’t hear what was being said. He could only see the warrior’s gestures, the following nods, and then the group broke up.

They got into their bumper cars and waited for the green light. On the opposite side of the ride, the teenagers got into their cars. There was a sense of tension in the ring. Challenging looks exchanged over the hoods of the brightly colored little autos.

The light flickered to life like a virulent green eye, and the cars whirred into motion.

The teens charged in, laughing and calling out good-natured jibes.

Miyake and his team of small children wore determined expressions. A few of them waved goodbye to the others and rode out to the center of the ring to meet the teens. Their little cars were quickly swarmed, taking hits from all sides.

The smell of stale popcorn and burnt rubber stung Sasuke’s nostrils. He leaned forward, curious now.

The other little children circled the outer ring, speeding past the mad battle at the center. When they fully surrounded the teens and their trapped friends, Miyake raised his fist.

With unexpected quickness, the little kids rushed to the middle. Suddenly, it was the teenagers who were trapped. No matter how they moved, their bumpers found only the rubbery wall of another bumper car. And those kids rammed them mercilessly. Their small mouths turned up in triumphant smiles, and the sound of laughter joined the squealing shrieks of cars slamming into each other.

When the ride ended, Miyake was swarmed again. He patted heads and laughed and cheered with them until they either went back to the ride or split off to find their parents.

Sasuke waited until the space was clear before he approached. The ninja liked children but … not so close. Not in such numbers. “That was a well executed maneuver.”

“I had to do somethin’. Those older kids were pushing the little ones around.” Miyake snorted. “Like that’s gonna impress anybody.”

“So you developed a stratagem and conspired with elementary students to get them back?” Sasuke’s left eyebrow rose.

“More or less. Don’t look at me like that, Sarutobi. You woulda done the same.” The warrior huffed. “Anyway, I’m done here.” His belly gave a low rumbling growl. “I don’t suppose we have time for a snack?”

Sasuke’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Let’s get some karaage while we wait. The ferris wheel takes awhile to finish.”

Miyake grinned. “Great! You’re buying, right? I left my money with Lord Akechi. He said if I had it on me, I’d spend it all.”

Privately, Sasuke thought Mitsuhide was probably right. But he shrugged. “Sure. It’s no big deal. Mitsuhide bought our tickets so we’re probably even.”

The warrior pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! You know, there’s also a bubble tea shop we could stop at. And I saw a place with these little cakes?”

“You’re going to get too full to eat dinner.”

“Now you sound like Hideyoshi.” Miyake poked Sasuke’s shoulder. “Are you going to remind me to put my jacket on now that the sun set? Or ask me if I had enough water to drink today?”

“Have you?” Sasuke’s flat expression made it impossible to tell if he was serious, but the warrior burst out laughing anyway.

“You should pull that on Lord Akechi one of these days. Now that’s a man in need of a mother hen.”

Chapter Text

It took hours of unrelenting discussion, several bared blades, and enough sake to drown a village, but the forces of Kasugayama and Azuchi were aligned, supported by the remnants of the Ikko Ikki. They were finally poised to take down the resurgent shogun.

Kyubei leaned back against the wall in the meeting hall, wishing he could sit someplace quiet. Wishing he could rest. But there was so much more to be done. For the thousandth time, he missed the steady presence of his lord. Mitsuhide always seemed so tireless in these machinations. So focused.

For him, it was an effort to listen to the words of the warlords, to pick out the underlying meaning. To read the body language and nudge, as needed. All the while simultaneously running his group of spies at the meeting location, staying on the alert for enemy and ally agents, vetting the serving staff, keeping tabs on the missives and information at his drop locations … honestly, Kyubei felt like he needed another two or three of himself to keep up.

“You look terrible.” Ranmaru poked his head from around a corner. He had a tray in his hands with refreshments for the gathered allies. Newly minted and temporary allies, as was clear to see. Suspicion and frayed tempers worried the edges of their agreement already. And no wonder.

Kennyo wanted Nobunaga’s head on a pike. So did Kenshin. And Shingen … whatever he might want, it was all he could do to hold himself up, straining to keep his seat at the table. Yukimura sat beside him staring daggers at the Oda.

Kyubei’s attention snapped back to the page. “Do I? I’m not surprised. I haven’t slept in three days.”

“I could keep an eye on these guys and you could get some rest?”

He considered the offer for a moment before rejecting it. He didn’t think Ranmaru would betray him intentionally. In the last month, the two of them had come to a certain mutual respect for one another. But Ranmaru’s loyalties lay with the demon abbot first, and so he could not be trusted. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”

Ranmaru grimaced for a moment, but he quickly controlled his features. “Well, at least have something to eat!” He handed Kyubei an onigiri before continuing into the room.

Kyubei sniffed the rice ball and then tucked it into his pocket. He would eat later, if he remembered. Right now, there was more to do. Kenshin was nearing violence again, staring across the table at an equally aggressive Hideyoshi. Time for more distract and disengage tactics. He took a breath and got to work.

***

The hotel rooms were nice. Mitsuhide thought he was learning to discern the amenities of this time. In room baths and raised beds, room service, and cable television. He wondered if it would be hard to return to his own time, where these luxuries hadn’t even been invented yet. His golden gaze fell on the sleeping face of his beloved.

She hadn’t voiced a complaint in the months he’d known her. Not about that. Perhaps about his teasing. His secrets. As if it was an easy thing to lay bare your heart to another.

He toyed with a lock of her hair, letting the silky strands fan across his palm. It shouldn’t be possible to love someone so much, he thought. So much that the need to touch them was a physical pain, like hunger or thirst or the need to breathe.

Her eyes opened, bleary with sleep. “Is it morning?”

“What do you think?”

“Yes?” she glanced toward the digital alarm clock beside the bed. “Oh! Oh no! I can’t believe I slept so late! We’re going to miss -”

“We don’t need to catch the earliest train back to your parents. We can head back this afternoon.” Privately, Mitsuhide wondered if they should head back at all. Youko, his beloved’s mother, had asked them to take a few days out someplace. To have a good time. With the unspoken understanding that it would give her and Minoru time to talk.

Mitsuhide was not sure there was any amount of private discussion that would convince Minoru his little girl was better off engaged to a Sengoku warlord best known for betrayal. But they were obligated to ask for that blessing, even if it would never come.

“It will be fine. My dad will come around.” His little mouse reached up to cup his cheek.

“It seems you’re learning my tricks. Reading my mind, hm?”

She laughed. “That would be a nice change.”

Mitsuhide held back a smile. “It will be that much harder to keep secrets from you.”

“Oh? Are you keeping secrets?” She grabbed his collar and tugged him closer. “I’ll have to use advanced information gathering to ferret them out.” Her lips brushed against his.

“I’m going to take more convincing …”

She slid her hand down his chest, pushing his pajama top open. Her leg curled around his hip, pulling his body against hers. Satin-soft lips trailed kisses along his neck.

He let out a sigh of pleasure. “Keep that up and we won’t make our check out time, little mouse.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise,” he chuckled. Then he disentangled himself from her and stood. “Much as I’d rather stay here another day and do nothing but you …”

She sighed. “I know. I know. Mom and dad are waiting. And Sasuke and Miyake would probably come looking for us. Awkward.”

It didn’t take as long as Mitsuhide expected to dress and pack up. They checked out of the hotel and met Miyake and Sasuke outside. The two men looked tired and a little hungover. Which came as no surprise. Miyake seemed determined to eat and drink his way through the modern day, and Sasuke didn’t mind being his guide.

“Did you two go out drinking last night?” Mitsuhide raised one fine, white eyebrow.

“Nope,” Miyake grinned.

“Takeout, eat in,” Sasuke confirmed. “We watched movies in our room.”

Mitsuhide studied his warrior critically. He wondered if Miyake would want to stay here. He certainly seemed to enjoy the benefits of this age, to embrace the conveniences. It was a question he would have to ask later. When the return home became a reality.

“Ooh what did you watch?” The chatelaine looped her arm with Miyake’s. “I saw there was a new super-hero movie on the paid channels. We didn’t watch it.” A slight flush to her cheeks gave away the reason why.

“Nah, Sasuke picked out some …” Miyake took a moment to find the word. “Scifi?”

The ninja nodded. “Yes, though if we needed a genre-specific labeling, it would more accurately fall into the category of action/horror with a science fiction basis.”

“Oh! Well … was it any good?”

The three of them chatted about the film all the way to the train. Mitsuhide followed, lost in his own thoughts. He worried about his beloved’s family, their acceptance, and what it might mean if Youko and Minoru withheld it. Part of him hoped they would have time - perhaps years - to get to know each other. Time to prove himself and his intentions. But he also wanted very much to return to his own era and his responsibilities there. Here, he felt extraneous. Purposeless.

His work in this time was answering basic questions about simple things to men who made a career of studying his life. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel worthwhile. He needed to be back to a life where people depended on him. Where his decisions mattered. And he believed, hoped, that the people he’d left behind needed him as much as he needed them.

Chapter Text

Youko and Minoru did not meet the four time travelers at the train station this time. Mitsuhide was grateful for that. It gave him a little more time to put his thoughts in order. There were two points of contention he had to prepare for. The first was that he and his beloved could not be parted. She had agreed to stay by his side, no matter what. Even in the face of parental disapproval. Whatever stipulations her parents demanded, that was not negotiable.

Second, and almost as important, there was no option but to go on the assumption that he and his beloved would return to the Sengoku. They both had friends and responsibilities to return to. When the door to the past - the wormhole - opened, they would be going through it together. As long as that was what they both still wanted when the time came.

Everything else, Mitsuhide could find a compromise on. Whatever tasks or requirements her parents had, he would meet them. He would exceed them.

Youko answered the door. “Oh! Welcome home!” She embraced her daughter. And then, to Mitsuhide’s surprise, she embraced him.

He took a moment to get control of his expression. He had prepared himself for several things, but not this. Thankfully, Minoru was scowling at him from behind his wife, and that was more in line with his predictions for this homecoming.

“Did you all have a nice time?” Youko let go of him and stepped back.

“Yes,” Mitsuhide nodded. “It was my first time in an amusement park. I found it very interesting.”

She stepped aside to let the four of them in. Minoru’s welcome once they were inside was less profuse. A bare nod to the three men and a quick hug for his daughter.

Mitsuhide had a sense of high strung nervous energy from him. As if he had not slept while they were gone, or slept badly. It was in stark contrast to Youko, who looked relaxed and happy. It meant some decision had been reached, he thought. He hoped for a decision in his favor.

They all sat down in the various chairs set out in the main room of the house - a combination of a couch and an armchair, and the seats from the kitchen. Mitsuhide thought, gathered like this, they looked like an audience with Minoru and Youko at the center, seated next to each other. Except this was no performance. He had to consciously ease the tension from his shoulders.

His little one squeezed his hand in reassurance. He could tell she was nervous though. Her back was too straight, shoulders too square. Her jaw held tight. Mitsuhide leaned into her lightly, letting their shoulders touch.

Youko was the first to speak. “My husband and I have talked a lot about the four of you. What you’ve told us. The time traveling and … the lives you have there.” She swallowed. Her eyes found Mitsuhide’s gaze, and in them he saw the same strength his little mouse held. An iron in her spirit. This was not a woman to cross. “What I want to know is, if you plan to marry, must you go back? You are welcome here - in this time - we would be willing to help you …”

Her voice trailed off as she saw her answer in the four faces arrayed around her.

Sasuke sighed and adjusted his glasses.

Miyake looked away.

“Mom, you know that no matter how far away I am, I still love you and papa, right?” The chatelaine’s voice was gentle but firm. “My life is with Mitsuhide in the Sengoku. The Oda need me. And I need them.”

Youko nodded, her expression one of suppressed grief and quiet pride.

In a gruff voice, Minoru spoke up. “I knew you’d say that. My baby girl. Taken up with - with warlords!” He glared at Mitsuhide. “So. If that’s the case - if you’re willing to give up everything for this man, we have a condition.”

“If I can meet it, I will,” Mitsuhide replied.

“You have to marry before you go back. I want to know that you are as committed to my daughter as she clearly is to you.” Minoru’s voice shook.

“Papa - you - you can’t expect-”

Mitsuhide interrupted his beloved. “Done. I will arrange for this at once.”

Several people began talking at the same time. Congratulations from Miyake and Sasuke, tears from Youko, and a low, rumbled warning from Minoru.

The chatelaine didn’t seem to hear any of it. Her eyes were fixed on her lover. “Are you serious? You don’t have to do this just because my father said so.”

“He’s asked me to do something I already want to do.” Mitsuhide brought her hand to his lips. “Do you object?”

“N-no …”

“Then stop worrying, little one.”

She gave him half a smile. “But what about Nobunaga? Hideyoshi! They won’t forgive us for getting married without them.”

Mitsuhide kissed the back of her hand. “That just means we marry twice. I would wed you a thousand times in a thousand places if that is what it took to keep you by my side.”

Youko gave her husband a look that said ‘I told you so’ without a single spoken syllable.

Miyake patted his lord’s back. His grin was full of infectious joy. “We should go out and celebrate!”

Sasuke nodded. “Such engagement celebrations are common among male friends in this time period.”

Minoru cleared his throat. “I can take you to the place I celebrated my engagement with Youko. If … you don’t object to me coming along.”

Mitsuhide knew this was both a great sacrifice for the older man and a tactical ploy. There was little to be gained in a refusal. “I would be honored.”

“Then it’s settled,” Youko put an arm around her daughter. “You boys go out and celebrate. My daughter and I will get to planning.”

“Please, mom … nothing big, ok? I don’t want-”

“My little girl only gets married once.” Youko set her shoulders like a warrior about to go into battle. “Don’t tell me I can’t celebrate it with every bit of fanfare it deserves.”

The chatelaine looked like she might argue, but she sighed instead. “We don’t have a lot of time, so, just, keep that in mind?”

Mitsuhide gave her a quick goodbye kiss before Minoru herded him and the other men out of the house. This was going to be an interesting evening, he thought. In more ways than one.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide was mildly amused. The testing was already underway and this was the kind of competition he won as easy as breathing. He sat beside Sasuke, across from Minoru and Miyake, waiting for their first round of drinks. Minoru played his first card when he chose this bar, where the servers wore little clothing.

Minoru watched expectantly when their order was taken, waiting for Mitsuhide’s eyes to land on the exposed legs of their waitress, or the expanse of her bosom, wrapped in tight, thin fabric. But Mitsuhide kept his gaze neutral. This waitress was no temptation for him.

On the other hand, Miyake couldn’t help the way his mouth opened or the way his gaze tracked her to the counter. Even Sasuke’s glance was prolonged, though less obvious.

“So … I need to wish you congratulations,” Minoru said. He steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the table. “She is worth more than the world to me. To you too, I assume.” An eyebrow rose in challenge.

“Of course.” Mitsuhide smiled.

Sasuke swallowed, well aware of the tension at the table. If Miyake noticed, he gave no sign. His eyes followed the servers as they took orders and brought drinks. He also watched the doors, a precaution he had not given up even in this safer time.

Minoru’s brows drew together at the sight of that crescent moon smile. He didn’t know Mitsuhide well enough to understand what it meant, but it wasn’t the reaction he wanted. His fingers pressed together so hard the tips went flat and pale. “I expect you have some plans after the wedding?”

“Several.”

“And those would be?”

Mitsuhide gave a slight shrug. “Dependent on the outcome of Sasuke’s research.”

Sasuke did not want to be drawn into this conversation, but he did his best to defuse it. “I expect we will be able to return home. The timing is our variable, not the outcome.”

“And this travel of yours is safe?” Minoru watched the three men carefully for their reaction.

Mitsuhide gave a serene nod while Miyake shrugged.

The ninja’s lips turned in a slight frown. “Think of time like these folded napkins. The recent period is here, at the top. And the bottom of the stack is the beginning. Although, it’s not quite a straight shot.” He took a chopstick and poked the stack in the center. “The wormhole pokes through. We simply … walk into that opening. No need for a lightning powered DeLorean.”

The waitress brought back their drinks. Miyake’s eyes went wide as saucers when she leaned down to set them on the table. She grinned at his expression and winked before walking away.

Minoru looked as if he had more questions, but Sasuke raised his cup with a smile. “Kanpai!”

Everyone drank their first round of sake. Mitsuhide felt the slight burn, the sweet aftertaste. It was good wine. He smiled and caught Minoru’s eye. He saw the calculation there, the expectation of how this evening would unfold. Now that Mitsuhide was certain of the game, he knew which strategy to follow.

The next round of drinks was new to Mitsuhide, though Miyake seemed familiar. Sasuke called it beer. It came in a metal can and had a sharp, citrus bitterness. One of those was enough to make him feel heavy.

“Youko-san is a very beautiful woman.” Mitsuhide raised his second beer. “Can you share with us how you met?” The targeted question hit as he’d hoped.

Minoru’s eyes lit up as he told them about running into her at a corner shop. The way she ignored his flirtation, the months it took just to convince her to meet him for a coffee. Mitsuhide nodded along, watching as Minoru’s focus slipped from now into nostalgia. And he kept the drinks coming.

From beer to sake to whiskey, and mixed drinks. Some of them he sampled but most ended up in Miyake’s cup, or Sasuke's. A sleight of hand he’d perfected at many feasts.

The ninja knew what he was doing. A slight raised eyebrow and the beginnings of a smile followed Mitsuhide’s nimble movements. But Sasuke said nothing about it, only added to the conversation with his own story about his parents meeting.

Which left to Miyake and Mitsuhide sharing their own, less romantic, stories.

“Many marriages in my time are for practicality. Alliances and property rights. Ending feuds.” Mitsuhide gave a slight shrug. “Many couples only meet the day they wed.”

Minoru’s eyes were unfocused, his cheeks flushed. “So … my daughter … what-what advantage?”

“Honestly?” Mitsuhide pretended he was as inebriated as the other man. “None. It isn’t practical. I just love her.” He didn’t give the man the list of reasons the marriage was a bad idea. The enemies she would inherit, the dangers of being wed to the kitsune warlord. No reason to add to his ammunition.

Miyake waved his hand toward Mitsuhide. “That’s a-a lie! She …” he put a hand over his mouth to stifle a burp. “She’s great. She talked down the demon abbot! And a-a pirate prince … I heard, I heard …” He trailed off, his eyelids drooping.

“Heard what?” Minoru squinted at Miyake. Both men looked confused.

“Let’s try the next place,” Sasuke suggested. “They have the best warm drinks. And good food.”

Minoru nodded. “Hm. Yeah. Ah, I'm hungry.”

The four of them paid the bill and stumbled out of the bar. The next place was a less obvious trap, at first at least. The waitresses looked good, but with more clothing, and the tables had warm cloths to clean their hands.

Mitsuhide knew it couldn’t be so innocent though, and his suspicions were confirmed when one of the women introduced herself as their hostess. She said her name was Miyu, and then she wedged herself onto the seat between Mitsuhide and Miyake.

“Oh, your eyes are so beautiful! Is it ok if I call them beautiful?” She leaned close to Mitsuhide, almost as if she meant to kiss him.

Minoru’s lips curved up in a sharp smile, expectant.

Mitsuhide caught her hand and pulled it between them, forcing her to stop before she got even closer. Were he in Azuchi, he would send her off with a word, but he wasn’t as sure of the rules here. The etiquette. But even his uncertainty was a weapon when wielded properly. “My apologies. I don’t like to be touched by strangers.” He let go of her hand and moved away to a polite distance. “So tell me, Miyu-san, how do you know Minoru?”

She giggled coquettishly and put a hand to her mouth. “I am sure he could tell you, but I’m sure you have more interesting things to talk about. Where are you from? Your accent is very nice.”

The woman was good, he thought. She would have made a good informant in another life. But she wasn’t as good as he was. “I travel often. What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve lived here for five years now. I may as well be local.” She laughed again.

“Not quite. Your accent gives you away. Hokkaido, I think? And you haven’t been doing this for five years. Your hands are calloused. Like a musician. What do you play?” Mitsuhide pretended he was uncertain, but he knew he was right on all counts.

Miyu gave him her first real expression, with her mouth open and her brows raised. “I … yes. I grew up in Asahikawa. And I play the bass.”

Once he got her to talk about her real self, she stopped the overt flirtation and regaled them with stories of the bands she played with, songs, and concerts she performed. They left that bar with Minoru more drunk than the rest of them. Miyake was a close second. Sasuke was almost as sober as Mitsuhide.

The four of them wrapped the night up at a ramen shop. Settling in for hot noodles and a chance to clear their heads before going home. This time, Minoru sat beside him. Sasuke took Miyake on a little walk to find a toilet.

Mitsuhide knew there were words tearing to get out of Minoru’s chest. He was tempted to taunt his soon-to-be father-in-law, to force him to speak. It was easier to address an accusation spoken than not. But he decided to let this evening play out. There was time, he thought.

Their ramen was served. Steaming hot, the toppings mostly recognizable food. Mitsuhide thought it was an extremely inefficient way to eat - the cup noodles you could carry with you and even eat dry were more practical. But he supposed this had its charm. Just as he took his first careful bite, Minoru spoke.

“You’re going to take her away from us again.” He didn’t sound angry, just resigned.

“She wants to go.” Mitsuhide turned his head to regard the older man. “Every child leaves home eventually.”

Minoru nodded. “But not so far away. And not with someone like you.” He made the word a curse.

Mitsuhide smiled, though the bitterness in Minoru’s voice cut him. “Surely there are worse fates.”

“Are there? Worse than being married to a man that will abandon her the moment a better match comes along? Replace her with a more practical choice? What happens if your lord demands you remarry, take another wife?” His eyes were wet, his tone pleading. “She’s my only little girl. I can’t let her be hurt like that.”

He set his chopsticks down. “Why would you think that of me?” Mitsuhide was genuinely curious about what he did or said to give the man such an impression. To have so little faith, when he tried so hard for her sake.

Minoru looked away. “Because of who you are. Because that is how men are.”

Mitsuhide shook his head, a dry laugh escaped his tight-pressed lips. “I have betrayed many things in my life to pursue my ideals. There are few things I would not do, if I believe the goal is worthy. But I could never replace or abandon your daughter. I would sooner cut off my right hand.”

“I don’t believe you.” The words were barely audible, a venomous whisper from a desperate father.

“I don’t need you to believe in me. She believes in me and that is everything.” Mitsuhide’s smile turned warm as he remembered her sweet trust. Her innocence. He would keep her by his side no matter what it took.

Her father looked back to see that expression on Mitsuhide’s face and something in his eyes softened as well. “I … yes. I can see that you love her. I just hope that is enough.” That was as close to acceptance as Minoru could get.

Mitsuhide knew this was not a time to press for more. This reluctant admission might be the most his father-in-law would ever manage. It would be enough.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide left for the university the next morning. As silent as the rays of the morning sun, he opened his lover’s bedroom door and slipped in to give her a goodbye kiss and to leave a note on her table. She didn’t wake, but smiled as his lips brushed her forehead. The sight of her, disheveled and vulnerable, made his heart ache. He would rather spend the day at her side, but even here, he had responsibilities.

He and Sasuke were the only two with clear heads after their night out drinking. Even his little mouse and her mother were sleeping off celebratory drinks. He exchanged a knowing smile with the ninja as they crept out silently.

“I admire your skills,” Sasuke watched as he latched the door without making a sound.

“As I do yours. Are you sure you-”

Sasuke shook his head. “I like my job and my boss. But thank you.”

Mitsuhide smiled. He’d known the ninja would refuse but felt he had to ask. “How is your research into the worm hole progressing? You haven’t spoken about it in some time.”

“There have been other things to talk about.” Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I’ve been spending time on a-a side project. One that is equally important. To me.”

The kitsune warlord’s smile went sharp and thin. “Shingen Takeda.”

“So you know then.”

“That he was ill, yes.” Mitsuhide tapped his chin lightly as if considering, though he’d already realized the ninja’s aim. “You hope to heal him.”

Sasuke tensed, saying nothing.

“I would go a step further and say you intended to perfect your invention, using our trip as a test. Then you planned to bring Takeda to this time for treatment. But the worm hole refuses to be opened as you need it, so now you plan to bring the medicine of this age back to Shingen.” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious.”

The ninja gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Yes. I don’t know how much good it will do. I am a physicist, not a medical doctor.”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Any chance you give him to survive his illness is one more than he would have.”

“Yes.” Sasuke studied the distant horizon. “I would appreciate you not mentioning this to … to the chatelaine. I don’t want to darken a joyful time with my -”

“I don’t keep secrets from my little mouse. But if she doesn’t ask, I won’t mention it.” Mitsuhide’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t expect to keep it from her for long, though. She is perceptive.”

The two men fell into a companionable silence for the remainder of their trip to the university. Once there, Sasuke left for the medical center, while Mitsuhide set off for the dorms. His ‘scholarship’ students were doing well, and it was time to fulfill a promise.

The three boys shared a room, and they were still asleep at this early hour. Sprawled across their beds, clothes in a pile, barely even stirring as Mitsuhide opened their door. He clapped his hands once and the room erupted into chaos.

The whistler - Itsuko, got tangled in his blankets and fell to the floor. The bag-grabbing Souta managed to jump up, but faced the wrong direction. The talker of the group, Daiki, was the only one to get up facing Mitsuhide, but the pillow he brandished was far from intimidating.

“If I was a thief, you’d be left with nothing but your short-pants,” Mitsuhide sighed. “And if I was an assassin, you’d all be dead.”

“Grandpa’s got skills,” Daiki laughed.

Itsuko sighed. “I was having the best dream.”

Souta tossed a shirt at Itsuko. “Dreaming of noodles again?”

“It’s not just noodles! It’s the world’s best ramen.”

Mitsuhide sighed. “Dress and meet me outside. Today, I will train you.”

Soon enough, all three boys met on the front sidewalk. Mitsuhide looked them over. He’d worked with less. The only uncertainty was the will behind those wary smiles. A man, any man, could learn to fight. Could be taught to weigh and measure, to look for subtle cues. But you could not teach a man to know what to fight for. Faith in a leader, an ideal, a religion …

They walked to a park, a place screened from prying eyes. The whole way there, the boys chatted about their classes, their majors. Under the sarcasm and complaints, Mitsuhide detected a certain pride. They claimed to hate school - but he could tell they were pleased with their accomplishments.

“Now. I want you to try to hit me. Don’t hold back.” Mitsuhide stood across the small clearing and beckoned them on. This was always the first lesson. The most important part of any fight.

Souta didn’t need to be told twice. He charged at Mitsuhide, and flailed as the kitsune side-stepped out of the way and let the boy crash into the brush.

“Next?”

Itsuko rolled his shoulders. “I got this.” He came at Mitsuhide more slowly, lunging at the last moment.

Mitsuhide grabbed his arm and pulled him past. The boy’s momentum brought him to the same place as Souta.

Daiki grinned. “Let me guess. Lesson one, don’t get hit?”

“Very good.” Mitsuhide smiled back. “Now I want you to practice this.” And he proceeded to teach them how to read the body to predict the strike. They practiced for hours, getting bruised and scratched, sweaty and tired. It wasn’t any different in this time than his own, the warlord thought. With everything else that changed in 500 years, there was still no other way to truly learn to fight.

“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to teach us all this and we’ll just go back to jumping people in alleys?” Daiki asked as they settled down to take a break.

“Yeah,” Itsuko nodded. “I was thinking that too. “You don’t know us. We could just -”

“Disappear. And take off with a bunch of university property while we’re at it,” Souta chuckled.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Of course you could. But I don’t think you will.” He studied their attentive faces and wondered that they could not see what he did there. It wasn’t mind reading, but in their posture, the tension of their jaws, the set of their eyes he could see how much they needed him to believe they were honest. That they were worth his time. They wanted him to see how much effort they put into his requirements, like children in need of reassurance from their father.

“Why not?” Daiki settled back on his heels, trying to look relaxed.

“First, because you would not try so hard for something you plan to abandon. Second, because I can see that you enjoy the life you have now. You’ve made friends in your program. Joined clubs. Which means,” Mitsuhide took a breath, “you just need to find what you believe in.”

“Pffft.” Itsuko laughed and rolled onto his back to stare up at the sky. “I believe in a full belly. Being warm. Having a place to sleep.”

Daiki nodded. “Getting rich so I don’t have to slave at some desk job for nothing.”

“I-” Souta looked down at his hands. “I was thinking. Guys like us never get a chance. We don’t fit in at school. Don’t take the exams seriously because we figure we’ll fail. We grow up poor and we stay poor. I want … you know …”

Mitsuhide watched the boy stumble on his words, knowing this was Souta’s moment to begin understanding his ideals.

“So what, you’re going to be some social crusader? Take all the poor kids to school?” Daiki laughed.

“No. But maybe, if I can finish my degree, I can teach. I can be there for guys like us. I don’t know. I guess it’s stupid.” Souta’s hands clenched in his lap.

“It is a beginning.” Mitsuhide gave the boy a pat on his arm. “Now come on. We aren’t finished yet. Next, let’s go over how to hide your tells.”

***

Kyubei sat across from Mitsunari. Between them several maps lay on the floor. Rivers, roads, mountains, and cities were all marked. Ports and sea routes too. The battle against the shogun’s men had begun in earnest.

The first battle was a victory, if bloody. Uesugi forces made the difference, riding in just as Masamune was almost overwhelmed. Now Ieyasu and his trained vassals were seeing to the injured, while Nobunaga drew up plans for the next attack. They couldn’t sit back and wait for Ashikaga’s men to come to them. Supplies were short and the situation was not improving.

“Over land transport is taking too long. And it’s not any safer,” Mitsunari sighed. “The more men we pull to guard caravans, the slower the travel. The less resources arrive too, since so many have to be fed for the trip.”

Kyubei nodded. “We have to make use of our ports. There’s no other option.”

“The ports are a worse prospect. The Mouri clan either pillage our ships and steal them, or burn them.” Mitsunari traced his finger along the coastline of one of the maps, stopping at a river entrance.

“My sources say that is the port the Mouri return to. I think they have a shipyard there,” Kyubei gestured.

“One source.” Mitsunari tapped his finger on the spot. “That might be lying.”

“I don’t think he is. Ranmaru has no reason to deceive us about this. He says he saw it when making deals with Motonari for guns.” Kyubei frowned. “We could try to ambush them here. Burn their shipyard.”

Mitsunari nodded. “If there is a shipyard. If that is their base. We would still need to get enough men close to the port, enough of our own ships to blockade. Our forces would risk being set on fire and we would lose what navy we have left.”

“What if we made a boat you couldn’t light on fire?” Kyubei’s tired mind struck on an impossible idea. “A metal boat. An iron giant.”

Mitsunari’s violet eyes glinted dangerously. “What an interesting proposition.”*

*Based on real history Tekkosen

Chapter Text

Miyake knew nothing about wedding dresses. He didn’t want to go on this ‘adventure’ but Sasuke and Mitsuhide abandoned him to it. Which was how he found himself walking into a familiar sewing shop with Lady Akechi. Four familiar faces greeted them with smiles.

Kei smiled mischievously as she saw who it was. Masako blushed and hurried to the back, while Aiko and Takara hurried forward to welcome them into the shop. For several minutes, Miyake was able to blend into the background, listening as they chatted excitedly about some designs Lady Akechi sent them.

Sadly, his peace was not meant to last. Kei sidled up to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Miss me?”

“Uhm … no?” Miyake took a step away.

“Kei! Leave him be. Look! You already turned his head into a tomato!” Lady Akechi came to his rescue, fending off her fellow seamstress.

The tall girl shrugged. “I was just teasing. Anyway. You have another week on that last commission. What brings you by?”

“Yes, do share,” Takara purred. Her round cheeks were pink and her eyes shone with excitement as if she already guessed the reason for their visit.

“I need a wedding dress. It’s too big of a project to make all by myself, so I was hoping … I thought maybe I could commission it? And we could work on it together.” Lady Akechi swallowed nervously.

Miyake watched the girls’ faces. Delight, jealousy, razor-sharp focus, and smiles all around. The room burst into another round of excited chatter as the chatelaine gave them an amended version of their situation. The wormhole turned into a job that might call them back any moment, and her father’s ultimatum was turned into their idea to make it official before she moved back with Mitsuhide.

Takara leaned on the counter. “So, tell me the truth. Are you preggers? Is that why you need to get married right now?”

“What? No!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! Sure as I can be.” Lady Akechi frowned. “Anyway, what’s up with the personal questions? Do you quiz all your clients?”

Takara laughed. “Sometimes. Especially when we need to consider it for the dress fit. But if you’re sure …”

“I am!”

Masako giggled. “You heard her. But hey! If she’s not having a baby, that means Miyake is still single.”

Two sets of eyes landed on the warrior and he felt stripped where he was standing. “Ah. Uhm. I am …” He looked at his lady for help but she just shrugged. “Single.” His shoulders fell.

“Ahhh, look what you did, Masako! Now he’s all sad.” Kei shook her head. “I think we should take him out for some sweets. Cheer him up.”

Aiko nodded. “Yes, perfect. Get him out of our hair while we do the fitting.”

“What? I can’t leave my lady here alone. Lord Akechi would-”

“Miyake, why don’t you go and grab something to eat. I’ll be fine. We’ll just be measuring and looking at fabric. Nothing even remotely dangerous. I promise.” The chatelaine grinned. “Besides, I think if you don’t go out with them, they will just keep teasing you.”

The warrior sighed. “Alright. But don’t leave this shop until I get back. And no sharp objects. Don’t pick up anything heavy.”

Lady Akechi laughed. “Yes, yes, mother hen. Keep it up and I’ll change your name to little Hideyoshi. Go and have a good time.” She shooed him out with Masako and Kei in tow.

Miyake was nervous. He wasn’t sure what they wanted from him, or how he ought to act.

Kei and Masako had a thousand questions once they got him alone. Where was he from, what work did he do, had he gone to college. Miyake felt entirely out of his depth, but he remembered one of Mitsuhide’s tactics. Instead of answering, ask.

It worked like a charm. The women went from interrogation to telling stories about their lives and experience. Kei, it turned out, got picked on a lot for being so tall. And Masako had never had a boyfriend. Both were college graduates and loved making clothes almost as much as Lady Akechi did.

“I wish there were more guys like you, Miyake,” Kei sighed. “Are you really going back to your home town soon? I’d love to meet you for coffee or a drink.”

“Same,” Masako smiled. “It wouldn’t have to be a date. You’re just the first guy I’ve met that listens.”

Miyake was impressed again at his lord’s genius. Apparently, if you listened to women, they thought you were amazing. Perhaps that was how he’d seduced the beautiful chatelaine. “I’m sure we’ll be back a few times to work on the wedding dress. I’d be happy to go out with you then, as long as Lady Akechi is safe.”

“Such a dedicated bodyguard.” Masako rested her chin on her hands. “It’s almost like a romance.”

“Except that she’s marrying your boss.” Kei added.

“Ah, yep. I don’t - Lady Akechi and I, we would never -”

The two women laughed. “It’s ok, Miyake. We’re only teasing,” Kei reassured him.

By the time they got back to the shop, the linen mock-up of the dress was almost complete. The chatelaine stood on a little raised platform, covered in pinned fabric as Takara and Aiko circled, adjusting the fabric and pins. It was hard to say what the finished dress would look like, but Miyake was impressed with this temporary version. It looked nothing like the wedding clothing of the Sengoku, but something of a blend between the kimono that he knew and western dresses.

“Do you think he will like it,” the chatelaine asked.

Miyake nodded. “Yes.” He took a step closer. “That’s a lot of fabric. It’s very plain though.”

“This is just to base the fabric cut and fit from. We picked something special for the dress.” Lady Akechi shared a secret smile with her friends. “I’ll show you as soon as the fabric comes in.”

He felt warm at the way she included him in her secrets. “I can’t wait.”

***

Mitsuhide entered the jewelry shop alone. He had no idea how modern trading for expensive items was done, but he was confident he could figure it out on the fly. He felt more himself after the hours spent training his bandits. More able to handle the strangeness of this age with the strategies he knew well.

There were glass enclosed cases with soft lighting and velvet pillows displaying a variety of rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. They all looked finely made, a glittering hoard of beautifully cut gems and polished metal.

A sales clerk hurried out to meet him. A small man with a moustache and dark brown eyes. He took in Mitsuhide’s fine clothes and regal bearing, and startled as he met Mitsuhide’s golden gaze, giving away his nervous constitution. “Welcome. Are you here for yourself or someone special?”

The question sounded scripted. If that was so, unsettling the trader would be as simple as pulling him off script. He took note of the name tag. “Ren. Are you the owner?”

“I - no. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t deal with hirelings. Is the owner here?” Mitsuhide made his voice as arrogant and cold as he could.

It worked as expected. The sales clerk puffed up, full of offended pride and a need to prove himself. “No, the owner is out. But I assure you, I am authorized to answer all questions and finalize any sale.”

Mitsuhide pursed his lips as if considering. “I suppose I can talk to you for now. I hope you won’t disappoint me. I hate wasting time.” He gestured to the displays. “I am looking for a ring for my fiancée. I hope you have something better than this trash.”

“Oh! Of-of course. This is just for our less discerning clientele. Please, let me show you to our private sitting room. I’ll bring out some pieces that are sure to catch your eye.”

Mitsuhide kept his severe expression as he was led to a comfortable room with plush seats and a wood counter. The sales clerk brought out loose gems and ring samples, and a sizing kit. Though Mitsuhide had no real idea of how to tell a gem’s value, he knew how to read body language. He was certain the clerk was unsettled now and eager to please. Perfect.

“As you can see, we have an excellent selection. Different cuts and sizes, with the highest color and clarity ratings. And for the setting, of course, you can choose one of the traditional designs or our jeweler can customize to your specifications.” The clerk looked up, hoping for some assurance this was good enough.

“This is your selection?” Mitsuhide kept his expression neutral.

The clerk eagerly set out the gems he was proudest of. Natural pearl, diamonds in several shades, sapphire. “These are our finest in stock. Of course, if you know what you want and it’s not here, I have contacts-”

Mitsuhide pointed to a gem that was almost the exact color of her eyes. “This one.”

They talked for several more minutes, mostly Ren explaining the best setting and metal to display the gem. Then he gave Mitsuhide the price. It was … expensive. More than double his whole stipend from the university. But he expected as much. He wanted his little one to have the best, and a treasure worthy of her was not going to come cheaply.

Of course, Mitsuhide did not come into this shop without a plan. “Do you accept gold and silver or should I liquidate my assets first?”

Ren looked at him, startled. “Gold and silver?”

“Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I … no, we purchase both as one of our services so I could accept it as payment.” He looked intensely curious, but left it at that.

“I will bring payment tomorrow. I expect you to begin work on the setting today.”

Ren opened his mouth to protest but closed it again without a word. He nodded.

Mitsuhide left the shop and headed for the remains of his old castle. It was nothing now but a low stone wall across the lake from Azuchi, and a statue. He walked along the rock wall, looking for his sign. Eventually, he spotted it. A bellflower, etched into the rock. It was barely visible now, after 500 years of wear and tear.

The stone was still mortared solidly and took some time to work loose. Behind it, a rotted leather sack sat in a hole he’d bored into the rock. “Good.” He smiled thinly. This proved two things. One, that they would go home - a worry he hadn’t been willing to voice. And second, that he could assign himself actions now that would happen when he returned and could impact his time in the future.

It was a dangerous piece of knowledge. The rules of time travel were not clear. Even Sasuke was uncertain of much. This was a tactic he should use sparingly, but Mitsuhide was glad it worked. He had a backup plan, but preferred not to use it.

The leather sack was heavy, and in danger of tearing open from age. This wasn’t the place to open it so Mitsuhide tucked the bag away carefully and left to meet up with Sasuke.

Chapter Text

Kyubei swallowed nervously. His expression was serene, arrogant even, but inside he felt ill. This situation was well outside his comfort level. Beyond what any vassal could reasonably be expected to do. Serving Akechi often threw him into danger but nothing like this.

Mouri stood in front of him, a mere handsbreadth from his face. The pirate held his pistol clenched tight in his hand, the barrel pressed to Kyubei’s chest. “So yer tellin’ me the only way to get the Oda dogs out of my waters is to sign Toyotomi’s paper?”

“I’m telling you that, yes. And more. That you have been betrayed. Whatever you were hoping to accomplish -”

“Shaddup.” Mouri grabbed his collar and slammed him into the wall. “I don’t like it. It stinks of some plot by yer boss.”

Kyubei nodded. “And what if it is? The abbot has abandoned your cause. The shogun played you false and is using you as nothing more than a distraction. You have nothing to gain in your opposition.”

Motonari’s scarlet gaze burned. “Way I see it, I got nothin’ to gain by agreeing either! Maybe I’d rather go out in one last battle. Fire and blood.”

“Maybe you would.” Kyubei shrugged. “If so, Ishida’s iron-side ships will make your dream come true. You and all your men will die and then we will have no resistance as we take over every port and trade route into Aki province. Maybe more. Either way, the Oda win.”

The pirate scowled. “You wouldn’t win. I could kill ya right now, kick the whole thing off.”

“You could.” Kyubei knew if he showed any fear, he would die here. Confidence and respect were the keys to Motonari. “Or you could sign and give the idea of a united land a chance. Fire and blood will still be there, if Nobunaga fails.”

“Yer not as smooth as Akechi.” Mori glanced around the tiny fisherman’s shack as if expecting Mitsuhide to be hidden someplace. “But say I agree. Let’s get down to the dirty details. What do I get and what do I give up?”

Kyubei gestured toward the door. “I’m not … really the negotiator here. Just the messenger. Toyotomi awaits your word though. And he has the power to make concessions for the Oda.”

Motonari suddenly hauled Kyubei forward. “Good. Then let’s go talk to him. And if it’s a trap, I’m shootin’ you in the gut so ya can die with me. Savvy?”

“Completely.” Kyubei held back a sigh of relief. It seemed the blockade would end soon. Which was good. He was tired of his cramped quarters on the boat, of the constant nausea he felt in the floating stockade, and the smell of dead fish and rotting seaweed. He planned to trap the stench in glass and gift it to Akechi when his lord returned. A gift to say thanks for the extended absence.

***

Sasuke ignored the sweat beading on his forehead. This was his fourth attempt at surgery and the practice dummy appeared to be getting the better of him. The problem was clamping the artery while maintaining the surgical opening. He needed another set of hands, or two. If he waited to clamp until he set the locking forceps, the dummy bled out. If he tried to clamp without them, he lost the slippery artery in the wound - and the dummy still bled out.

“It seems you’re struggling.” Mitsuhide’s amused voice came from somewhere behind him.

Sasuke didn’t turn. “Apparently this maneuver wasn’t intended for one person to complete.”

Mitsuhide came up beside him and inserted his fingertips into the wound, pulling the silicone skin open.

“There is a tool for that.” Sasuke gestured with his chin.

“I see.” He chose the locking forceps from the tools laid out without more direction than that. “When we return to the Sengoku, I think we should clear up your errand before I go back to Azuchi.”

The ninja gave a short nod. It would be hard enough to get Shingen to let him attempt this procedure, moreso to allow Mitsuhide to help. And if the kitsune warlord went to Azuchi, he’d have to explain his purpose to Nobunaga. Another layer of complication. There were so many points where this plan could go wrong. It was the thinnest of threads to hang his hope on, but when it was the only thread …

“Not to distract you from the task at hand, but how is your wormhole device coming along? Any progress?”

“Progress. Yes. Even with the full laboratory to work with, the university’s supercomputer, and access to modern technology for the device construction, I’ve come to an unpleasant conclusion.” Sasuke took a breath, steeling himself for Mitsuhide’s reaction. “Creating a wormhole intentionally is simply beyond my scope. At least, in any reasonable time frame.”

The warlord was silent for a long moment. Then, “Does this mean there is no way back?”

Sasuke frowned. “If I am honest, the answer is uncertain. The device seems to predict recurring wormholes, spaced around 90 days apart and occurring in disparate areas across Japan. Perhaps elsewhere. I did not extend the predictive area.”

“That sounds like better news than your tone indicates.”

“Yes … I suppose it is. But that means we have only a few weeks remaining.” He took a breath and finished the procedure on the dummy. When he was done, he stripped off his gloves and turned to face Mitsuhide. “The problem with the device and my current estimation is that while I can offer fairly accurate forecasts for the occurrence and location of a wormhole in the time we occupy, I cannot say where it leads.”

Mitsuhide thought this over and then nodded. “Things are rarely certain. When we leave with this next wormhole, we will meet whatever challenge lies at the end.”

Sasuke agreed. “Do you want to look at the device? I can show you how to interpret the readings.”

“Yes. I need to stop by a shop first though.” Mitsuhide patted his pocket. “I need to trade this for a ring.”

The ninja’s expression immediately lightened, a smile hovering on his lips. “You found one you liked?”

“I had one made.” Mitsuhide told Sasuke about the ring he’d chosen on their way to the jewelry shop. How the stones matched her eyes, how happy he hoped she would be. He knew he sounded like a man besotted - but it was because he was.

Sasuke listened with an attentive ear. He didn’t understand being in love - not really - and it was fascinating to study Mitsuhide’s change from conniving kitsune to star-crossed lover.

They arrived at the shop, but oddly, the closed sign was up and all the shades were drawn closed. The ninja was about to suggest they leave and try another time when he noticed that despite the sign, the door was slightly ajar.

He exchanged a look with Mitsuhide. Sasuke entered the shop silently, Mitsuhide right behind him. The display cases were all smashed, jewelry and decor tossed on the floor with the shards of glass. The door to the private rooms at the back was open, and raised voices could be heard beyond it.

“Unlock the safe now!”

“I can’t. It’s a time lock. A time lock!”

The sound of metal meeting flesh.

Sasuke crept forward. Mitsuhide rushed past, cold fury in his eyes.

For a moment, the men in the other room froze. One was tall, his face covered in a panda mask. He held a length of pipe, bloodied on one end. The other was a little shorter than Sasuke. He wore a brown bear mask and carried a large leather case, open now to display jewelry tossed in haphazardly. Glittering chains and flashing gems all tangled together.

Sasuke didn’t hesitate. He threw down a smokebomb and leapt, pushing himself off the wall and into the man with the brown bear mask.

Mitsuhide didn’t need to be told what to do. Before the smoke clouded the room, he was moving toward the panda-masked man. There was a dull thud, muted by the smoke, and a strangled cry.

The ninja didn’t have time to worry about Mitsuhide though. He had his own fight on his hands. The brown bear man realized he was being attacked and tried to jump back. But he didn’t expect the strike to come from the side. Sasuke caught him with a knee to the side. The two fell to the floor.

For one breathless moment, Sasuke was afraid he’d let himself get too soft, forgotten his training. The brown-bear man got a hand on his throat and tried to roll him over, to get the high position. But years of struggle, of life and death fights, left their mark on the ninja. Without really thinking about it, he shifted, broke the man’s grip, and pinned him.

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I thought I was going to have to rescue you.”

There was a gurgling sound somewhere behind the warlord. The smoke was too dense to make out much. “You could see my fight?” Sasuke asked incredulously.

“No. I could hear you though. You froze. Maybe you should spar with me and my … I suppose they are vassals. Recruits?” Mitsuhide sighed. “Whatever they are - it will help you stay sharp.”

“Maybe.” Sasuke frowned. The brown-bear man was struggling to get out of his grip. “I don’t suppose you have any rope on you?”

The gurgling stopped and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor followed. “Hm, no.”

“Did you just kill that man?” Sasuke managed to sound neutral but he was genuinely concerned. It would be wrong to murder anyone, even a thief, and it would cause them no end of trouble.

Mitsuhide laughed again. “No, of course not. He is merely unconscious.”

The salesman finally found his voice, shaking and in shock. “Y-you saved me. I thought they would kill me!”

Sasuke sighed. He couldn’t release his grip on the still struggling brown-bear man and he wasn’t willing to risk knocking him out. The line between unconsciousness and permanent brain injury was a fine one.

“We did.” Mitsuhide’s smile was audible.

The smoke started to clear. The room was a mess. Ransacked, the leather bag of jewelry now spilled across the floor. Ren, the salesman, stood up. He looked around with a helpless expression. “They wrecked the shop, but at least everything is still here.”

Sasuke looked down at his captive and pulled the mask off. Beneath it was a forgettable face. Unremarkable features that would blend in to any crowd in most of Japan. The thief’s eyes were wide and frightened. Not of the ninja, but something else.

“So, you were here to rob this man?” Mitsuhide crouched beside the Sasuke and stared down at the thief.

“I don’t have to tell you nothing!”

Mitsuhide nodded, his lips curving in a sharp crescent. “True. True. You don’t have to.” He lifted the man’s hand, studying the calloused palm and short, stubby fingers. “You also don’t have to leave here with all your fingers intact.” He began to bend the smallest one.

The thief screamed.

Surprisingly, Ren didn’t flinch. The salesman bent down, watching with a certain grim satisfaction. No wonder really. Half his face was bruised and swollen, his lip split. The thieves were not gentle with him.

Sasuke, on the other hand, did not want to torture this man. He just wanted to tie him and let the police handle it. “We don’t need to do this. There are officials here that will question him.”

“And yet.” Mitsuhide’s eyes shone with a vicious light. He continued to bend and there was a popping sound from the man’s hand.

“Ahhh! Ok, ok!” The thief was panting from the pain. “The owner hired us. Said he’d get more from the insurance than the sales.” He licked his lips. “Please. Please just let go.”

Mitsuhide contemplated the finger, bent now and pulled out of joint. “If Ren here had not been able to get the safe open, would you have just let him go?”

The thief’s gaze darted away.

“I thought as much.” Mitsuhide snapped the bone with a sudden jerk. Then he stood and wiped his hands on his pants. His expression was twisted with distaste.

The thief was crying now. Whimpering between tearful sobs that he was sorry.

Sasuke took a breath. “Ties. Ren. Do you have rope or anything else I can use?”

The salesman thought for a moment and then left, bringing back red velvet display case rope, meant to keep grubby hands off glass. It would do.

The ninja tied up his thief and finally sat back for a breath. “What now?”

Mitsuhide turned to Ren. “I’m here for my ring.” He pulled out the pouch of gold and set it on the table. “Let’s conclude our business before we call the city guards.”

“Police,” Sasuke interjected.

“Yes. Those.”

Ren looked down at the gold and back up at Mitsuhide. “I don’t want your money. You saved my life today. Besides, apparently the insurance is worth more than the sale. We’ll just say the ring was lost in the attempted robbery.” He gave the warlord a tremulous smile.

It took a bit for the salesman to find the ring and wrap it up. Mitsuhide and Sasuke made sure the two thieves were secure while they waited. When they had the ring in hand, they left. Ren reassured them he would tell the police two unknown heroes showed up to assist and left because they didn’t want thanks. Which was mostly true.

They’d walked a few blocks from the store when distant sirens told them the police finally arrived. Neither glanced back.

“So … if the ring was free, why do you suppose you still left yourself gold coins?” Sasuke asked, thinking aloud.

Mitsuhide had already begun to wonder that as well. His future-past self would know how all this turned out. What was the gold for? “I am sure something will come up.”

“That is what worries me.” The ninja’s eyes narrowed.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide looked around the shrine as his beloved chatted with the priest. The shrine wasn’t that different from Shinto shrines in his time, unless he looked too closely at the details. This one was  private, in the garden of a family friend. It was small and well cared for, and the garden was lovely. Rows of carefully tended plants, a few hardy trees, and a small, stone fountain lent the space a peaceful air. 

There were other, more popular shrines in the city, but they were booked out for the next year and no amount of bribery or begging could get them in before the wormhole opened. At least, he reflected, it was beautiful here and they picked an auspicious day. Mitsuhide put little stock in luck, but it couldn’t hurt to plan as if it mattered.

The garden and small shrine would make for a nice, private wedding. An intimate ceremony for them, followed by a larger celebration at a nearby hotel. He was looking forward to the wedding, a fact that surprised him. 

Mitsuhide knew he wanted to marry her, but wanting to be married and anticipating the event were two very different things. Yet he stood here with fluttering feelings in his belly and a quickened pulse, thinking of meeting her here in a few days to say their vows and be blessed as husband and wife. 

She smiled at him from across the garden and she was so beautiful that his heart caught in his throat. He wanted to kiss her, but her mother was watching and so he stored away that feeling for later. When they were alone, he promised himself that he would kiss her breathless. Their forced chastity under her parents’ roof was hard on him, but it would make the reward all the sweeter.

His attention was caught by a slight flash of white in a flower bush near the fence. Mitsuhide walked closer, his posture relaxed and nonchalant. As he approached, he saw that it was a small white fox, so much like Chimaki that he wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating. But no. This fox was smudged with asphalt dust and tar, a wary look in its yellow gaze. A creature of this century, for certain.

The fox danced back from Mitsuhide but did not run. 

“Maybe you are Chimaki’s descendant, hm?” Mitsuhide held out a cracker for the little beast. 

Surprisingly, it ignored the food. The fox turned in a circle and leapt toward the fence. Then it stopped and looked at him again with a low yip.

Mitsuhide walked toward the animal again, curious now. Was something wrong with it? Foxes usually ran from humans.

The Chimaki-look-alike waited for him to get close again, and then continued on. It led him all the way around to a back gate that hung open, unlatched. Then it sat down and stared at him with unsettling intelligence.

While Mitsuhide was not a superstitious man, yet he felt an undeniable connection to the little white fox. He tossed it the cracker and smiled as it snatched the food from the air. Then he went to close the gate. 

On the street behind, a man lounged against a car, watching the yard. He saw Mitsuhide, and for a brief moment, they made eye contact. The man’s lips twisted up in an unpleasant smile and held up a bandaged hand as if to wave.

The thief from the jewelry shop. Mitsuhide recognized him with sudden clarity. He took a step forward, feeling a surge of anger that this criminal would seek him out like this. He tamped the feeling down and kept a small, tight smile on his face. Despite that, it seemed the thief didn’t want to talk. He jumped into the car, and it sped away.

Mitsuhide watched it go, a leaden feeling in his gut. It seemed that even here, in the 21st century, he’d made some enemies. 

“There you are!” The chatelaine’s voice called from behind him. “I was looking for you!” She glanced at the empty street in confusion.

“I just saw a white fox. He looked just like Chimaki” Mitsuhide gestured toward where it sat, but the little beast was gone.

She smiled. “I guess the fox had somewhere to be. But that’s a good omen, right? Seeing a fox just like our Chimaki?”

“Mmmm,” he replied, not wanting to add to her worries. The fox led him to the thief, letting him know they were being watched. If it hadn’t shown him the way, that thief would have the element of surprise for whatever he was planning. And it was certain something was planned. That mocking smile and almost-wave were too confident for a beaten man.

Mitsuhide turned to look at his beloved. “What did you need me for, little one?”

“Oh!” She blushed as she always did at his endearments. “I just wanted to know what you thought of the plans for the floral arrangement. We were going to add some bellflower bouquets that will come along with us to the hotel. I thought it might be nice to include them …”

He smiled and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Of course. Perhaps some asagao, as well.”

“Morning glories?” She tilted her head, leaning into the touch. “If you like them, I’m sure we can.”

Mitsuhide decided he couldn’t wait for a better moment, even if her mother was just on the other side of the garden. He leaned down and kissed her, relishing the taste of her lips, the slight mint of toothpaste and that flavor that was just her. He didn’t draw it out as he wanted, but made sure she felt every bit of his love and desire. A thorough kissing, however brief. 

She touched her lips as he drew back. “What was that for?”

His eyes shone gold and bright, and he knew she already had an answer. He laced his fingers with hers and led her back to finish their ceremony discussion.

 ***

Miyake realized he was spending a lot of time with Kei and Masako. At first, it was just when Lady Akechi had fittings and having a man standing around was awkward. Then it was when the lady was out with her parents or spending time with Mitsuhide. And now it was every spare moment he could manage.

If he wasn’t guarding the chatelaine or ‘teaching’ at the university, he was out with them. Karaoke, coffee shops, cat cafes, bar hopping, movies, and concerts. It dawned on him slowly that he was having a very good time. With them, here in the 21st century. The realization stunned him.

“Are you alright?” Kei looked across at him with some concern. 

“You made a noise,” Masako added.

Miyake gave them both a wide smile. “I was just thinking about how much fun we’re having. Did you want to go to the arcade next?”

“Oh, you want to lose at Bemani again?” Kei arched an eyebrow.

“Hey! I’m a good dancer,” Miyake protested. 

“In the right light, maybe? After a few drinks.” Masako laughed and patted his arm affectionately.  

Kei laughed too and Miyake joined in. He would miss this, he thought. 

The three of them spent a few hours in the arcade. Kei really was the best at most games, but Masako and Miyake won a few. They were wistful when it came time for the evening goodbyes. 

“Are you coming by the shop tomorrow,” Masako asked. “I think the dress is ready for a final fitting.”

“It looks amazing,” Kei added. “I mean, I’ll probably never marry but if I did, I’d want a dress like that.”

Miyake tilted his head. “Why do you think you’ll never marry?”

“Men don’t like tall women.” Kei shrugged. “It’s alright. At least I get to have some fun with guys like you.”

Miyake blinked. “Like me?” 

Masako laughed and laid her head on his arm. “Our poor, clueless, shared boyfriend. You really don’t know?”

Now he was even more confused. He looked from one woman to the other.

Kei shook her head. “We were hoping at first you would pick one of us. My money was on Masako. She’s so small and adorably sweet. But you didn’t seem to realize how hard we were trying, so … we decided to just have fun with you together.”

“I like both of you too much to pick one,” Miyake said finally. “I mean, at first you were kind of intimidating. Both of you. And I wasn’t … looking.” He swallowed, not sure how to express the change in his heart. “But now, you’re both precious to me. I wouldn’t want to choose one and lose the other.”

“See?” Masako grinned. “I told you he liked you.”

“Yeah, but he likes you too.” Kei smiled back without bitterness. “And that is why you’re our clueless shared boyfriend. You didn’t even know you were dating us.”

“If I didn’t know, does it count?”

Both women rolled their eyes and gave him a dangerous look. 

“Ok! Ok, it counts.” Miyake held up his hands. “I uhm, I’ll ask Lady Akechi if we’re going to be around tomorrow. If not, I can stop by after fencing club.”

“You remember how to text, right?” Kei reached into his pocket, her hand sliding on his thigh while she grabbed his phone.

Miyake’s heart nearly stopped at the sensation that burned through him at that unexpected intimacy.

She held the phone out to him. “Just text us when you know. I already set up our group chat, but I think Masako and I are the only ones that write each other in it.”

“Kei, I think Miyake.exe has stopped working.” Masako stood on tiptoes and waved a hand in front of his face.

Miyake snatched her hand. “What? I don’t know what that means,” he grumbled. Then let her go and took his phone. “I remember how to text. See?” He unlocked the phone and wrote, ‘See you later’ into the group chat.

“Aww, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Masako gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You know, I’m not immune to all this teasing. I think every time we go out, you two are bolder.” Miyake eyed them both suspiciously. He enjoyed the attention, but as he said, he couldn’t pick one. They were both dear friends and beautiful women. And if he admitted it to himself, he would like to bed them both. His cheeks flushed as his mind provided images of just what that might look like.

The two women shared a look. Then Kei smiled. “Maybe that’s the idea.”

Masako nodded. “It could be we just decided to torment you.”

“Or maybe we agreed to share …” Kei licked her lips.

Miyake wasn’t sure if they were serious now, or teasing him. But it didn’t matter. He’d be returning to Azuchi soon. If he let this go on, he’d end up leaving them and that felt wrong. He slung an arm around them both and pulled them in for a hug.

“You ladies are so funny.” He ignored the way his heart sped up as they hugged him back. “I’m glad I can spend so much time with you while I’m here. I know I won’t forget a moment of this when I leave.”

Masako’s fingers tangled in his shirt. “So you really are just going to disappear on us?”

“When Lord Akechi leaves, so will I.” The words made his throat feel raw and his chest heavy as lead. He wasn’t sure why.

“There’s other work a man like you could find,” Kei said quietly. “I want you to think about it. Think about what you want before you go. Because I feel like once you’re gone, we’ll never see you again. And that would be a shame.”

Both women kissed him, one after the other. It wasn’t a passionate, lover’s kiss, nor was it chaste. Their lips pressed to his in a promise of what might be, and left him confused and full of pent-up desires as he made his way home for the night.

Mitsuhide was waiting for him when he got home, and the kitsune looked amused. Miyake knew what it meant when his boss had that expression at this time of night.

“We have a problem,” Akechi told him. 

“Then let’s get it sorted.” Miyake grinned.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide stood beside Sasuke, trying to make sense of the ninja’s notes. The mathematics were far beyond him and many of the annotations were strange, but he understood the verbal explanation if nothing else.

“So if we miss this next wormhole you’ve predicted, we have no guarantee of another to take us home?”

Sasuke nodded. “Per my calculations, other wormholes may form, but not in our region and with a lower likelihood of transport to the Sengoku time period. This limits our options if we are unable to reach the location of the next event.” He gestured to the notes. “Not that we plan to miss this one.”

“This changes nothing in our current plan, but I appreciate the information.” Mitsuhide gave the ninja a thin smile. One shot chances were nothing new, but he did feel a slight unease. He chalked it up to general nerves.

“Ah! N-not to interrupt but-” The chatelaine called from the room across the hall.

Sasuke and Mitsuhide turned to peer out of the classroom.

She was balanced on tiptoe at the edge of a desk chair, holding a large, decorative vase with both hands. The length of her was stretched up to keep the vase from falling. It scraped the shelf ledge, and if she shifted, it would fall.

“Little mouse,” Mitsuhide chuckled. “How do you get into these positions?” He hurried over to help, with Sasuke close behind.

“C-can you stop laughing and help me?” She wobbled a little as she looked down.

Mitsuhide reached up to stabilize her hip. “How did you get yourself into this?” His other hand snaked up to take the weight of the vase.

She blushed. “I was trying to see the picture behind the vase. It looks like part of a scroll … but when I tried to move the vase, it started to fall.”

Sasuke held back a laugh. “I didn’t realize the replica storage would interest you so much.”

“Get the picture, little mouse.” Mitsuhide smiled. She was absolutely precious, her curiosity insatiable and undaunted. “Just don’t knock anything else down or else.” He gave her hip a light squeeze.

That only turned her a deeper shade of crimson. She didn’t say a word though, just reached a little further, past the vase, to snag the hanging scroll behind it. With Mitsuhide’s help, the vase slid back onto the shelf. Then he put his hands around her waist and set her onto the floor.

Sasuke peered at the scroll. “Who is that?”

“I don’t know. They looked weirdly familiar though,” the chatelaine replied, squinting at the picture. It was a watercolor scroll, the dark-haired figure in it pretty, in a sharp, ghostly way. The details were faded, the features indistinct.

Mitsuhide knew who it was as soon as he saw it. “Ah. Kicho. He wasn’t around while you were in Azuchi.”

She stared at the image for a little longer. “Huh, I guess you’re right. But the background bits kind of look like Azuchi castle and I could swear …”

Sasuke’s flat glance slid from the painting to Mitsuhide. “Did you say Kicho? I thought she was Nobunaga’s lover?”

“Kicho?” Mitsuhide chuckled. “Not as far as I know. Though I suppose we could ask Nobunaga when we get back.”

Sasuke and the chatelaine traded a nervous look. “Do you think it’s because of the changes we made to history,” she asked.

The ninja thought for a moment. “It’s possible. I theorize that the Sengoku we are from is already a timeline split from the one that created the modern day Japan in which we were born, and that we are visiting now. But it isn’t inconceivable that there could be ripple effects.”

Mitsuhide settled an arm around his beloved’s shoulders. “We can worry about ripple effects later. Unless you’ve changed your mind about returning with me?”

“No!” Her eyes went wide.

He kissed her forehead lightly, chuckling. “Then, as I said.”

Sasuke coughed, turning away for a moment. “Mitsuhide isn’t wrong. We have other problems we-”

“What Sasuke means to say is that we need to go check on our clothing rentals. For the wedding.”

The ninja’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Yes. Of course. Which is a very important problem to resolve.”

The chatelaine eyed them both. “I don’t believe you. Either of you. Didn’t you promise me you would be honest? I want to know what’s going on!” She stopped and took a breath, then added, “Unless it’s a romantic surprise. I guess you could tell me about that later.”

Mitsuhide couldn’t help the way his smile widened. “Mmm, such a greedy little mouse. No secrets unless they are for you? Is that the way of it?”

She poked him in the side. “No. I mean … yes? Just don’t leave me in the dark on important stuff!”

“I think we should tell her,” Sasuke said.

Mitsuhide sighed. “There isn’t much to tell. But you are right. If we say nothing, they could take advantage of her innocence.”

“Who’s taking advantage of what?” She looked from one man to the other.

“Come on, we’ll tell you on the way.” Sasuke gestured toward the door. The three of them headed out together.

On the walk to the train station, the two men explained about the jewelry shop, how Ren was almost robbed, and what they did to keep him safe, and how one of the thieves was watching them at the shrine where they would be wed.

The chatelaine listened, her lips thin and pale with worry. When Sasuke and Mitsuhide finished their stories she nodded. “Alright. So what are we going to do?”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Right now? Not much. Sasuke thinks he found one of the … what was it called?”

“Middle management,” the ninja replied.

“Yes. Someone above the simple bandits that we’ve met so far.”

She nodded. “So what are we going to do? Capture him?”

“I am hoping we can use him to identify someone in leadership,” Sasuke replied. “Who might be willing to reign in the goons.”

Mitsuhide kissed the top of her head. “You see, little one? Nothing to concern yourself about.”

“I see two men that think they are going to take on gangsters. They could be mafia or yakuza! You can’t just … chat with them over tea?” She glared at them.

Sasuke smiled. “I don’t know. Mitsuhide chatted with Motonari and Kennyo and got them on his side. Why not some mafia boss too?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “I don’t anticipate this will be a greater challenge than the mad dog and the demon abbot.” He stroked the back of her neck with his fingertips. “But if you are worried, why don’t you go home for the afternoon? Wait for us there where it is safe.”

She practically bristled with offense at the suggestion. “After everything we’ve been through, you really think I’m just going to sit at home like a good little girl and-” She stopped, realizing people were staring.

“The little mouse has quite a roar,” Mitsuhide laughed. “Alright. Then come with us. I believe you will do just fine. If you can keep your voice down.”

Sasuke’s eyes crinkled at the sides but he didn’t laugh. “I am sure it will be safe enough. We’re just having a look around. Reconnaissance.”

They took the train to a nearby district, which looked too peaceful to be the location of a mafia anything. The houses were clean and well kept, and every yard had a tended garden. The little shops had flowers in their windows and cheery signs above their doors. The three of them walked past several of these until Sasuke parked them at a small cafe.

They ordered drinks and several snacks and then waited.

At first, Mitsuhide began to think the ninja got this one wrong. The house they were watching was exceptionally ordinary. There was nothing special about it, and nothing alarming. But then he began to note odd details. The way the bushes and plants were kept too low for any grown person to get behind. The cameras mounted under the eaves. The drop bars above the windows, ready to lock down the house like a fortress.

What settled it for him though was the first guest they witnessed, arriving at the house. A man in a black sedan, tattoos peeking out from his collar and the ends of his sleeves. He walked like a warrior. A creature of blood and fury, hiding in a suit and tie. He knocked, three short raps, a pause, two more.

A woman answered the door. They spoke for a moment, and then she let him in.

“Sasuke, was that-”

“Yes. But don’t look like you’re looking.” The ninja took a drink of his coffee, savoring it.

Mitsuhide hid a smile behind a nibble of croissant.

She stuffed a bite of muffin in her mouth and pretended to study the blueberries dotting its top. “Sorry …”

Sasuke grinned. “It’s fine! You’re new to the game. Don’t worry. I was super-obvious at first too. But I learned fast and I know you will too.”

“I’m surprised you lived long enough to learn anything under Kenshin,” Mitsuhide commented.

“Sometimes I am too.” The ninja laughed. “He’s not as bad as people think though. Most of the time, he’s not really trying to kill me. Or any of his allies. He just doesn’t have a healthy mechanism to express his emotional-”

Sasuke fell silent as a shadow crossed their table. A young woman had just stepped out of the cafe. “Hello.” She gave them a polite nod. “I have been asked to escort you to my boss. He’d like a word.”

Mitsuhide could tell by his little one’s expression that she thought she’d gotten them caught. But he could see now that the cafe staff were likely under the mafia’s control here. It wasn’t wise to leave the business across the street unguarded, and so it wasn’t. “Of course. We were hoping he would speak to us. Thank you for providing an introduction.”

The woman gave a false, bright smile. “Happy to help.” She walked them across the street and up to the door.

From this close, even more security measures became obvious. She gave the same knock as the man in the suit had, and when the door opened, the two conversed in a language Mitsuhide did not know. Perhaps a password or phrase? Then they were let in.

Two men searched them for weapons and took their phones. Only after, were they led to a sunlit back patio. A man sat there in a large wicker chair. The gentleman in the suit stood nearby too. Both watched the three with narrowed eyes.

Mitsuhide could tell Sasuke was tensed and ready for a fight. The chatelaine felt like a taut bow string as he put an arm around her waist.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then the seated man smiled. It wasn’t a friendly look. Just the slightest baring of teeth. “Did you enjoy your coffees and pastries at my little cafe?”

“Not particularly.” Mitsuhide’s golden-eyed gaze was hard and cold.

“Pity.” The man stretched his legs out in front of him. He was clearly a westerner, with pale eyes and blonde hair that fell to his chin. He looked to be middle age, and lacked the tattoos of his dangerous friend. “May I ask what interested you in my humble home? You have been staring at it for the past hour.”

“It was across the street from our lunch spot. There isn’t much else to see.” Sasuke gave his reply in a flat voice.

The man nodded. “Hm, and you were in this neighborhood because?”

“W-we were looking for a house!” The chatelaine’s words tripped out quickly. “We’re getting married, you see, and, and my apartment is so small. This is a nice neighborhood, so we were going to have lunch and look around.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “We didn’t expect a tour of the interior. But I am so glad you invited us in. I was wondering if you were selling. Perhaps I can make you an offer?”

The man’s brows rose. “Oh? I can’t think of anything you could offer me.”

“I could offer not to split you open and show you what color your spleen is,” Mitsuhide replied, still smiling benignly.

In less than a heartbeat, the man in the suit stood between his boss and Mitsuhide. He held a small knife in his hand, the blade about as long as his palm. “Try it.”

“I only said I could offer you that, not that I would. Your bodyguard is quite intense. You really should relax.” Mitsuhide gently moved his beloved behind him. “I think there has been a misunderstanding. You see, two of the men that work for you threatened a friend of mine. And nearly cost me the ring I chose for my fiancée. I stopped them, of course, but it appears they took their failure hard.”

“My men don’t fail.” The mafia boss chuckled. “So you decided to make atonement easy and delivered yourself to my door?”

“Not exactly. I am offering you a chance to back down. This is a minor matter. Surely not worth so much effort. And-” Mitsuhide drew out five of the heavy gold coins from the Sengoku. “I can offer you a small thank you. One likely more profitable than what you’ve lost, given the value of ancient coins and other antiquities.”

He was fairly certain now that this was why he’d still left himself the bag of gold. Instead of buying jewelry, he’d pay off a bandit lord. The future was a strange place.

“I could take those coins and still have you killed.” The man’s eyes shone with a greedy gleam.

“If you try, this location and our conversation to this point will be sent to the police,” Sasuke interrupted.

The man in the suit frowned, eyeing Sasuke.

The mafia boss laughed. “I doubt it. If you were the type to call the cops, you would have done it at the jewelry shop.” He flicked his fingers. “Get rid of them, Louis.”

Louis, the tattooed warrior in the suit, leapt into action.

Sadly for him, he wasn’t up to fighting two of the Sengoku’s best. Sasuke dodged left and Mitsuhide dodged right. They struck him together in the side and then the ninja hit him again at the base of his neck. Louis collapsed with a whimper.

The mafia boss frowned. “If you think that gets you out of here, you must realize I have a house full of loyal - and armed - staff.”

Mitsuhide grinned. It was the vicious glee of a predator. He grabbed the boss by the arm and wrenched it around behind him. “Oh, I hadn’t planned on running. You’ll recall my offer earlier? I’m making it to you now.”

“I’ll kill you for this. And the bi-”

He didn’t manage to get the insult out. Mitsuhide twisted his arm further up his back. “Now, that was unkind. And we are trying so hard to get along with you. Should I take that as a refusal?”

Sasuke moved to the door. “We don’t have much time before his guards arrive.”

“Hm. Then I suppose we’ll have to make this quick. Little one, would you hand me the spoon on the table?”

She handed it to him without a word.

The mafia boss’ eyes went wide. “What is that for? Why do you need a spoon?”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I can’t very well dig your spleen out with my bare hands. This won’t be as handy as my usual toolset, but it will do.”

“W-wait! Wait!” The boss swallowed. “Maybe we can come to an arrangement then. I’ll tell my guys to leave you alone, alright? We won’t touch a hair on your heads.”

“Boss?” A voice came from the other side of the door.

Sasuke took a defensive stance.

“Nothing to worry about! You should get back to your posts, alright?” The mafia boss tried to sound confident, but his voice still wavered. “We’re just talking.”

The staff on the other side of the door slowly dispersed, footsteps fading back into the house.

Mitsuhide tapped the man’s cheek with the spoon. “Well done. Now, why don’t you pick up your phone and call your dogs. Tell them the news.”

The mafia boss nodded, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He dialed, and quickly gave his men the order to back off the ‘white haired weirdo and his four-eyed friend’. “There. Good enough?”

“Perfect.” Mitsuhide let him go and tossed the spoon back on the table. “I was worried we’d have to kill you and find the next man in charge. But it seems you were quite reasonable.” He nudged the chatelaine toward the door and Sasuke. “If, however, I find that you’ve gone back on your word in any way, I’ll come back. And next time I won’t be interested in deals.”

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide spent the next few days after the mafia encounter working with his reformed bandits. They were the closest thing to a network of contacts that he had in this world. Plus they were useful to keep an extra eye on his beloved little one. Itsuko was the most reliable of the three. He could follow without being seen and proved his value by guiding the chatelaine away from possible danger without her realizing she was being led.

Daiki was less skillful, and his little mouse often spotted him. Miyake took to calling Daiki The Bull for how he charged into situations, but he did try. And then there was Souta.

Mitsuhide left Souta to his studies mostly. The boy had a passion only just discovered, and the last thing Mitsuhide wanted to do was dim that fire.

He met the three of them in an alleyway bar to talk about the work so far. While Mitsuhide saw no sign of the mafia’s presence, this world was strange to him and he knew he might have missed something.

Itsuko shrugged at the question. “Hard to say. If someone’s watching your girl, they are good at keeping out of sight. Or there’s enough of ‘em not to notice a familiar face after a few days.”

Souta frowned. “I could take a couple days off school to pitch in. Maybe I’ll spot something Itsuko’s missed.”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No. You are of more use to me educated. You will continue in your studies.” He turned his attention to Daiki. “What about you? Anything to report?”

“Other than that your girl has a fine a-ah-ah! Ouch!” Daiki winced as Itsuko grabbed his ear and twisted it.

“We don’t talk about her like that. She’s a lady. Try again,” Itsuko told him. He didn’t let go of Daiki’s ear.

Mitsuhide said nothing, glad to see the three of them managing without his intervention.

Daiki gave his friend a glare but nodded. “Yeah, so no. I didn’t see anything worth reporting.”

“What did you see?” Mitsuhide’s full attention fell on the boy, pinning him with those inscrutable golden eyes.

“N-nothing, really. I mean … sometimes a sedan? By the clothing designer? But like, I’m pretty sure it’s just somebody who lives or works nearby.” Daiki stumbled over the words. “They drove off when I walked over, but who wouldn’t? I mean, I still look like a thug, right?”

Itsuko chuckled. “You always will.”

Mitsuhide well remembered the car parked near the shrine where their wedding would be held. He frowned. “We need to find out who is in that car. If you are right, then we can apologize. Tell them we mistook them for someone else. But if it’s not just some resident …”

Daiki grinned. “Then it’s time to put some of our training to work?” He cracked his knuckles.

“Next time you see the vehicle, don’t approach. Let Itsuko move forward. He can look as if he’s just passing by and then -”

“Lord Akechi!” Miyake’s distant shout broke into their conversation. He came running up, his clothes filthy, hair disheveled. And he was alone. The chatelaine was not with him, as she should be.

Mitsuhide felt a sudden sinking sensation in his gut as if struck.

Miyake stumbled to a stop in front of the four men. He was breathless, his motions erratic. “The - the shop. Sewing. They - it - fire! I-it burned. The, the girls …”

“Where is she?” Mitsuhide grabbed his vassal by the shoulders and shook him.

“Kei … and Masako took them. To the hospital.” Miyake fumbled for his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Here.”

Mitsuhide read the characters on the glowing screen. He understood it was a location, but where?

“I know where that is,” Itsuko said into the tense silence. “If you have your phone, I can put the address in and you can see it on a map.”

“I don’t carry one.” Which was true. He forgot it all the time, much to his little one’s annoyance. When he would come back from the university or his errands, he would have several messages and pictures from her.

Itsuko shrugged, “That’s fine. We’ll just use his.” He took the phone from Miyake’s trembling hands and pulled up a map, with dots to show where they were and where they needed to go.

The hospital was a few blocks away, but close enough to walk. Mitsuhide set off at a run, with the three reformed bandits in his wake, and Miyake tiredly following. He knew he should have questioned his vassal more thoroughly. Gotten the details, the scope of this fire. But all Mitsuhide could think of was his little one, hurt. He could ask for an explanation after he saw her with his own eyes and dispelled the cold dread devouring his heart.

***

Kyubei stood in the shadows, watching. It suited him more than the spotlight, he thought. Hideyoshi and Nobunaga were finalizing the alliance with the Mouri clan. Already, Mouri ships were on their way to Sakai, swift and deadly. The heavier Oda vessels followed to provide support. Kichou and the shogun-in-exile would have nowhere to flee to now.

Mitsuhide should be here, Kyubei thought. He wasn’t sure if this alliance was in the greater plans Akechi wrought before his disappearance. His lord only shared what was needed as it was needed. Neither of them expected this sudden absence. Mitsuhide had been gone for months now, and the rumors were divided on it.

Either Akechi was dead or secretly on the side of Ashikaga. Or that he’d fled to the west to avoid punishment for betraying all sides. Only Nobunaga and Kyubei knew the truth. But neither of them could say when or if Mitsuhide and the chatelaine would return.

Which left Kyubei here, with the heavy weight of responsibility for the Akechi network or spies and assassins. He sighed. This was a promotion he’d neither expected nor desired. Every day, he hoped to see his lord return with his sharp grin and sharper wit, an explanation on his lips that was half lie and all misdirection, and a plan in place that would set all the pieces to rights.

“You look glum, chum!” Keiji’s stage whisper was loud enough that Hideyoshi glanced their way with a disapproving frown.

Kyubei tried to hide behind a stoic expression. “I didn’t hear you approach. Is there something you need, Maeda?”

Keiji’s eyes shone. “Sure thing. I happened to be in town and thought hey! That poor vassal’s got a ton of extra work. I bet he could use a break. So-”

Hideyoshi cleared his throat and made a gesture for them to leave.

“You’ve disturbed Toyotomi. Come. You can bark at me outside.” Kyubei led Keiji out into the brilliant sunlight.

The redhead was in no way disturbed by Kyubei’s disapproval. “Perfect! Let’s head to this great teahouse I know. They have this blend, supposedly the best tea in the whole region. I haven’t tried it yet. I thought, hey, perfect! You can get a break and I can treat us both to something new.”

“Maeda. Have you lost your mind? I need to be here in case a message arrives.” Kyubei gave him his most annoyed look, one he saved for pushy vendors and scamming beggars.

Keiji laughed and then the smile fell from his face as if it had never been there. “Here I thought Akechi’s vassals would have his ability to read between the lines. I’m not asking you out for your health, dolt. I need you to meet someone. Someone that can’t walk into an Oda stronghold.”

Kyubei was taken aback by the acidic tone and the flat annoyance in Maeda’s voice. It was a complete shift from his usual, jovial self. “If that is the case, then let’s hurry. This had better not be a joke.” His response was no less tart, both as a result of his mood and irritation that he’d misread the man.

They made it to the city center, and stopped at a bustling teahouse. The owner clearly expected them. She greeted them with a slight bow and then hurried both men to a private space at the back of the building. A large window overlooked a blooming garden with a high wall at the far end, all the flowers and plants low to the ground. A spot it would be hard for an eavesdropper to sneak up on, and one a spy would have difficulty seeing into.

Kyubei and Keiji sat in stony silence for several tense seconds before a third man joined them. Of course, Kyubei recognized him instantly. Kanetsugu. The right hand man to the God of War. He said nothing, only watched and waited to see what this was about. His body tensed, ready for whatever may come.

Keiji laughed. “Don’t look so stiff, Kyubei. Kanetsugu’s not here in an official capacity. He’s a friend.”

Kanetsugu nodded. “This is correct.” He sat beside them, his cool elegance a direct counterpoint to Maeda.

“I see. Then greetings. As a friend.” Kyubei allowed a small smile and visibly relaxed. It was a trick Mitsuhide taught him, to seem unguarded while maintaining readiness.

The tea arrived a moment later, giving the three an excuse for a longer quiet study of the others. And, to be fair to Maeda, the tea was quite good. He made a mental note to recommend this place, in the event his lord and the chatelaine ever returned.

“So, now we all had some time to relax, let’s have a chat. Kanetsugu, seen any good plays lately?” Keiji’s voice felt overloud and bright for the small space, but the other man didn’t seem to mind.

“No. There is little travel in the Uesugi-Takeda provinces right now. You are not the only ones troubled by Kicho and his pretender shogun.” Kanetsugu’s lips twisted in a grimace. “We have been chasing raiders too well armed to be bandits. They steal and burn what they don’t take.” His disapproval for such tactics was clear.

Maeda nodded. “We saw some of that too. Mostly river raiders. But that should let up now, with the Mouri on our side.”

Kanetsugu gave Keiji a sour smile. “On your side, perhaps.” He took a sip of his tea. “It is nothing my lord cannot handle. Though …”

Kyubei felt the outline of a hook in the bait of whatever words lay unsaid. Part of him wanted to tug the line, but he had no intention of being caught up in whatever scheme Maeda was hatching. “Good to know. I wish you well in attending to your affairs then.”

Keiji frowned. “Anything you can share? As friends?”

“I suppose you already are aware through your connections with the Ikko Ikki. Takeda is ill and unable to fight. Yukimura is leading the battles now, though Shingen still assists with tactics and strategy when he can.”

“That is unfortunate.” Kyubei took a breath. “We were apprised of his condition.” And here it was. Did Kanetsugu suspect the Oda of causing Takeda’s illness? Or was this cover for something else?

Kanetsugu looked to the side, his lips a thin line of displeasure. “My lord’s ninja, Sarutobi, used to provide a concoction when Takeda’s illness grew worse. It helped. Greatly. But as you also know, the ninja is missing. He left the same night your lord did.”

Ah this again. Kyubei nodded. “Yes. They disappeared from the same city on the same night. I don’t know more than anyone else.” Which was a lie, but not a very big one.

Keiji waved a hand in the air. “It’s not about that. Not directly.”

“Right. It’s the concoction. My lord has tasked me with reproducing it.” Kanetsugu gave a tired sigh. “I’ve taken it to several reputable pharmacists, but have had no luck. Even the Takeda physician Nagata is uncertain what it may contain.”

“And you think I can assist?” Kyubei couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

Maeda nodded eagerly. “You know poisons. You kept an eye on the chatelaine and Sarutobi - and they come from the same village. I thought, maybe, you would know something.”

“I do know poisons. And restoratives. But none of it comes from the chatelaine and her friend. Why would you think I-”

“Please.” Kanetsugu’s voice was soft, barely audible. “I can’t return empty handed.”

Kyubei rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had a thousand other worries. More tasks than there were hours in a day. “Even if I could find something, I don’t have time to look. There is no point in this. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He made to stand but Maeda stopped him.

“I’ll help. Whatever you need me to do. Run messages. Take notes. Anything. I already asked Lord Oda for permission to assist you, and he said yes. If you agreed. I didn't mention Takeda but the point is the same. I can do this. You can do this.” Keiji’s words were sharp, rapid fire, insistent.

Kanetsugu gave his friend a flat look. “It’s fine. This is likely a fool’s errand without Sarutobi to help. I expect Kyubei would be as lost as we are in determining the origin of this medicine. We shouldn’t have bothered him.”

Now, Kyubei was very familiar with this tactic. The ego-tug. Stating an opposite outcome from the desired one with the intent of challenging an opponent to do the very thing they did not wish to. But even knowing he was being maneuvered, the lure was strong. He was Kyubei, vassal and right hand of the Akechi. He could discover any secret he set his mind to. Even something like this.

Keiji let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry Kyub. I shouldn’t have tried to pull you in on this. But hey! My offer to help you out is still good.”

“Kyubei. Not … Kyub. And. I might have some time to look into this.” He grimaced. “I’ll need a sample, of course. And a detailed description of how it was administered, the immediate effects, and any long term effects.”

Keiji grinned and clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Yeah! Least we can do is try.”

“I have your requested information here, and a small sample of the medicine.” Kanetsugu handed over a small, wrapped scroll and waxed paper sachet.

Despite knowing he was being played, Kyubei felt a thrill at a new mystery to unravel. He cursed himself for being a fool as he took the items and pocketed them away. At least, he thought, he’d won an assistant from this deal.

Chapter Text

Mitsuhide stood as close to the glass as possible. His palms pressed against it as if that sterile, cold, flat surface could somehow communicate his love to the girl on the other side. She lay insensate, her body bandaged, and intubated - a modern treatment that left his little mouse connected by wires and tubes to several machines. They beeped and whirred, breathing for her, tracking the life in that battered body.

He felt as if he could not breathe. As if he held to sanity only by the sight of her chest rising and falling. The steady beep of her monitored pulse. Bile burned in his throat and his eyes stung with tears he would not shed. Not while those responsible still lived. He would cry when those lives were extinguished. When his little one woke and he could hold her in his arms again. Until then, he had no time for tears.

A smoke stained gown lay in a chair in the corner of the room. Once, it had been white. Now it was grey and black, spattered in rust colored stains.

Miyake was being treated on the floor below them. His hands had been burnt pulling debris off the chatelaine when he went after her. When he took her from the burning wreckage of the shop.

Two of the seamstresses - designers - were pressed close to a nearby window to another room. They were there for Aiko, the owner of the clothing line. She’d been caught in the back when the fire started, and suffered worse injury than the chatelaine. Takara, the counter girl, and Miyake, had rescued her.

According to them, Lady Akechi ran back in once everyone was safe. To get her dress. Because … because she wanted Mitsuhide to see her in it. He felt his throat clench with a sob he would not allow himself to voice. His fingers curled into fists. Knuckles white, nails pressing bloody half-moons into this skin. There would be time for sorrow. Later.

“Boss. Tell us what you need.” Daiki smiled and it was the look of a man ready to go break some bones.

Mitsuhide turned away from the glass, his eyes going flat and hard. It took very little time to explain what he wanted. Soon enough, they were on their way to a certain house to visit a man that didn’t keep his word.

They rolled into the neighborhood in a stolen car and parked it on the street beside the cafe. There were no lights on in the shop or in the house across the street.

“What do you think, Akechi? I can get in quiet and take a look around.” Itsuko gestured toward the dark house.

“Do it. Daiki, return this car to near where we took it. Souta, with me.” Mitsuhide stepped out of the vehicle with two of his boys in tow.

Itsuko walked across the street nonchalantly, and then disappeared in the shadows between the houses.

Souta and Mitsuhide slipped behind the cafe to the employee entrance. It took the boy only a moment to get the lock open. “No cameras here. That’s how you know it’s mafia. They don’t want a record of anyone coming or going.”

Mitsuhide nodded and stepped past the boy into the cafe. He ignored the dining area and went for what looked like a back office. He flipped on the lights and pointed at a closed door. Souta had no problem with the lock on that one either. The room was definitely an office, but it looked as if someone emptied it in a hurry.

Papers were strewn across the floor, drawers hung open on the desk, and there was a broken … “Souta, what is that? It looks like someone smashed it.”

“Ah, it was a laptop. Looks like they beat it with a bat.” Souta picked up the shattered shell and peered at the interlaced wiring inside. “Huh, whoever smashed it was an idiot. The processor and memory are still intact. All they did was break the case and the monitor.”

Mitsuhide smiled thinly. “Do you imagine it may hold something we need?”

Souta shrugged. “Probably. Why else would they smash it?”

“Can you get at it?”

The boy nodded. “Might take some time.”

“Then pack it up. Let’s go check on Itsuko.” Mitsuhide led the way back across the street where an out of breath Daiki met them. There wasn’t a way to make it up to the house without being seen, so the three of them strode up the walkway as if they belonged there.

Tension crept up the back of Mitsuhide’s neck, a tightness like the sensation he got just before a battle. It mingled with the anger and the despair that boiled in his chest. Fingers curled around the stock of a rifle that wasn’t there and his nose stung from the scent of imagined gunpowder. They pushed the door open and went in.

The house was empty and dark. Signs of an organized retreat lay everywhere for one who knew how to look. Important items were missing. Nothing else was touched. “He knew I would come for him.”

Daiki chuckled darkly. “Sure he did. And he ran. So what are we gonna do now? Should I find some legs to break?”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No. We must be quiet. Careful.” His throat choked on the words. He wanted to howl his rage, to burn the city down until he found the one responsible. And on him he would visit such torments … Mitsuhide swallowed. “They must not know we are hunting them. If they see us coming, they will run again.”

Souta nodded. “Or try to lure us into a fight we can’t win. We have to be smart about this. Like skimming cards instead of holding up corner shops, right?”

After a moment, Daiki agreed. “So, what then?”

Itsuko popped out of a nearby doorway. “Got something in here you might want to see.”

Mitsuhide followed him into a cramped filing room. There were drawers hanging half out of metal cabinets, papers strewn everywhere. A large paper shredder jammed with a last sheaf of papers too thick for it to cut.

“I’m surprised they didn’t just burn this room,” Souta said.

“Yeah, right? Maybe they didn’t want to mess up the house. I bet they plan to come back.” He tugged a small, torn-up notebook from the desk. “This was under a bunch of trash. I think they meant to get rid of it but they didn’t.” Itsuko grinned. “It’s got addresses, initials, and a column for earnings. I think these might be local rackets.”

Mitsuhide took the notebook and flipped through it. He didn’t care who these people were, only that they might be able to tell him where their boss had run to. “We’ll start with these.”

***

Sasuke was supposed to be reading. He meant to have a relaxing afternoon with a manga in hand and a too-sweet milk tea on the little table next to his chair. Instead, he was chasing after a man on a moped. Leaping across rooftops and fences, running until his legs burned and his breath felt like glass shards in his chest.

The moped-rider burst past a startled pedestrian and turned into a narrow alley. He couldn’t see Sasuke above him, sprinting across the tiles two stories up. He thought here, he was out of sight and safe. He slowed, stopped.

The ninja flung himself at the man, knocking him off his ride and onto the concrete. The moped fell over with a clatter beside them. Sasuke didn’t let up. He pinned the man’s arms under him and pushed down on his legs with his weight.

“What-” the man gasped.

“Louis.” Sasuke’s brown eyes were hot with anger though his voice betrayed none of it. The thug still smelled of petrol, the same accelerant he’d poured around the base of the chatelaine’s house. Or, her parents’ house anyhow.

Louis struggled for a moment, bucking as if he would throw Sasuke off. But a few years in the Sengoku left the ninja more than capable of handling a modern day wanna-be gangster. “Let me go!”

“Or what? You’ll burn my house down too? You’re 500 years too late for that.”

The thug went slack for a moment, confused.

Sasuke pressed his fingers into the soft tissue of the man’s throat. “Did you know it only takes 35 pounds of pressure to crush the tracheal cartilage? Then blood begins to seep down into the lungs. I’ve heard it’s like drowning. Choking to death on your own blood.”

Louis began to struggle again, his eyes going wide as the reality of his position set in.

This kind of thing made Sasuke feel ill. Threats. Violence. But sometimes that was the only language an enemy understood. And it was important that Louis understood him. “If you keep moving, I’ll press harder.”

He stilled, air whistling across his lips and he panted.

“Better. Now. Why were you trying to burn down that house? Akechi made a deal with your boss.”

“He - he agreed not to harm her or you. Or Akechi. Never said nothin’ about parents. Friends.” Louis tried to laugh but it came out choked.

“I see.” Sasuke frowned. He should have expected this kind of duplicity. This was exactly the sort of complication they didn’t need right now. Not with the wedding coming up, and only a short time before the wormhole was due to open. It would have to be dealt with. He maneuvered the chloroform bottle from its pouch and doused a cloth in it.

Louis watched with wide eyed terror. “W-what’s that? What are you going to do-”

Sasuke covered his mouth and nose with the cloth and held it there until the thug went still. He would need to call Mitsuhide. Warn him before something happened. Louis probably wasn’t the only thug on this job. The ninja pulled out his phone.

Chapter Text

“Did you know that a man will say anything you want him to with the right pressure applied?” Mitsuhide sat at a table across from his groggy victim.

Sasuke stood by the door, expression flat, arms hanging loose and ready. He’d been anxious since capturing the man that tried to burn down the chatelaine’s childhood home but he seemed calm enough now.

The thug blinked. He tried to rub his face only to discover his hands were tied to the chair. “What? Where -” His eyes fixed on Mitsuhide. “You!”

“Sadly yes. I’ve been me for as long as I can remember. But we’re here to find out more about you.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” He glared across at the kitsune warlord defiantly.

Mitsuhide sighed. “I expected exactly that answer. Which is why I had my friend here round up some tools from the university medical lab. As you probably already know, there just isn’t a ready market in this time for the kinds of devices I’m used to using.” He smiled sharply. “It’s a pity really. Not to boast, but I have a reputation in the Sengoku for being able to milk information from anyone.”

The thug sneered, though beneath his bravado he was already beginning to sweat. “I call bull. Let me go and you might not die for this.”

“Now you see, I already tried something like that. And the ‘boss’ in question has not kept his word. So here we are.” Mitsuhide opened up the medical bag and began to lay out the tools. Modern medical equipment wasn’t that different from the standard torturer’s tool kit. There were pincers, snips made to cut through bone, small sharp knives of varying sizes and a disturbing variety of clamps.

“You think this scares me? This is nothing.” The thug spat, sending a glob of phlegm onto the table.

Mitsuhide ignored it and took out a blindfold. “I think we’re ready to get started.” He covered the man’s eyes, tying it tightly. “Sasuke, let’s start low. Take off his shoes.”

The thug shifted in his seat. “A-aren’t you going to ask me something first?”

“No. I don’t see why I should. You are clearly too tough to spill any information without a little … loosening first.” The kitsune warlord tapped the man’s forehead. “I’ll do what I must to get at the information in there.”

Sasuke gave a wry half-smile and bent down to remove the man’s shoes and socks.

Blindfolded and completely at their mercy, the man squirmed in the chair. Every movement only made the ropes tighter, binding him to the wood more closely. He began to breathe hard, a rasping sound like a panting dog.

Mitsuhide patted his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll start small.” He glanced at the ninja. They’d discussed this part at length. Sasuke wasn’t willing to participate in actual torture, no matter how deserving the victim. He had a modern-day soft heart. So this was the only route. If it didn’t work … “I’d rather not get blood spatter on the walls. Would you kindly clamp the little toe on both feet?”

“Sure boss.” Sasuke spoke in a lower register, gruff and accented differently. He bent down and applied clamps to the toes. These would be somewhat painful. They were very tight - tight enough to cut off blood supply.

“Ah, ah what are you - that hurts!” The man gasped as the first clamp went on.

“Does it? I’ve barely gotten started.” Mitsuhide bent down close to the man’s ear. “The love of my life is unconscious in a hospital bed because of you and your boss. And you tried to burn down her parent’s house. If you think a little clamp is the worst thing that will happen to you in here, you are a more optimistic man than I expected.”

Sasuke applied the second clamp and then stood up. “Would you like the bone snips or the number 12 scalpel?” He rattled the tray of tools.

The thug winced.

“The snips, I think. We’ll prune him like a bonsai.” Mitsuhide picked up the snips, making sure to jostle and jingle them. Then let the cold metal brush against the man’s bare foot as he knelt down. Instead of cutting, he tightened the clamp and clacked the snips shut.

The man screamed. “Ok! Ok! I’ll talk. Please, don't take anymore! Please!” Then he proceeded to explain the whole sordid plan. By the end, Mitsuhide was wishing he hadn’t agreed to this bloodless torment. If anyone deserved to lose limbs, it was this man and his … associates.

Sasuke gave his head a slight shake. Almost as if he were the mindreader.

With a sigh, Mitsuhide stood. “I suppose that’s all we can get out of you. Time to end this.”

“No! Wait! I told you what I know!”

“Yes, and in return I allowed you to keep your fingers, toes, skin, teeth, eyes …” Mitsuhide’s smile was sharp and cruel. “If you were hoping for merciful, this is the best I can do.”

The ninja applied another cloth of harsh chemicals to the man’s face. The thug struggled for a moment and then went limp.

It took a bit to strip the thug. Something about deadweight and cheap cloth, but they did manage to leave him as naked as the day he was born. Then the two of them left him about a block from the police station with a note taped to his chest.

This was not the revenge Mitsuhide needed. His heart burned with the need to extract bloody payment. He would, he promised himself. When he got his hands on the ones giving the orders.

***

Miyake reached for the cup of water on his bedside table. His bandaged hands slipped as he lifted it and the cup fell to the floor. The spill spread in all directions as the cup bounced and then rolled against the far wall.

“Did you need something?” Kei leaned in.

She looked tired, Miyake thought. And she was still wearing the soot stained clothes from yesterday. “You slept here?” His voice was rough, his tone sharper than he meant it.

“I didn’t want to leave.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Stupid, right?”

Miyake sighed and patted a spot on his bed. “Well, at least come in and sit down.”

“Can I come too?” Masako peered in from the other side of the doorway.

“Let me guess. You both stayed, even after I told you not to.”

Masako stuck out her tongue. “You aren’t the boss of me. Besides. I needed to keep an eye on - on-” Her eyes filled with tears.

Kei pulled her into an awkward hug. “She’s gonna be fine, hon.”

“She better be,” Masako growled.

“If half what I heard about her is true, this is nothing.” Miyake tried to chuckle but ended up coughing. “Bring me some water, and I’ll tell you some tales.”

“Done.” Kei grinned. She knew he was trying to cheer them up. It showed in her eyes. But she was willing to go along with it.

A few minutes later, the girls were piled into his hospital bed like puppies.

Miyake had a fresh cup of water, with a straw so he didn’t need to lift it to his mouth. “So, remember how I told you my boss is a lord?” The ladies nodded. “Well, I’m gonna tell you what he is, and what I know about how those two met. It’s about time anyway. Everyone else knows.”

That earned him curious looks but he quelled them by beginning the story.