Hi there! This is going to be kind of an ongoing story, and i really hope i get around to finishing it because wow gosh i really like the idea!

I hope you guys enjoy it.

Muneshige, for the past ten minutes, had been staring at the back of Ginchiyo's horse, and not because he wanted to; she had refused to speak or look at him ever since they left Miyao Castle in Chugoku. Of course not. Obviously Muneshige had been too hasty in accepting Motonari's request to go pick peaches for the feast he was preparing. He assumed Ginchiyo would agree to it—Muneshige's wife was never one to pass up a good meal—but apparently it was much too bothersome for her. Ah well. You know what happens when you assume.

Ginchiyo finally turned her head to glance behind her. "We've probably gone about ten miles and I haven't seen one peach tree."

Muneshige rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I remember seeing one right around here."

"You said that an hour ago."

"You know how my memory is."

Ginchiyo spat in frustration and turned around again. "I can't believe you agreed to do this. I'm a very busy woman. I don't have all day to go pick peaches for some lazy old windbag's dinner." She kicked her horse and it picked up its gait further away from Muneshige. He matched her pace and pulled up beside her.

"Think of it as a strengthening of political ties. Plus he's preparing a feast. That means we're rewarded with food. Speaking of which," Muneshige reached over and pulled a wrapped item out of one of his saddlebags and tossed it to Ginchiyo. "Eat. You haven't eaten in over three hours."

Ginchiyo caught whatever he threw to her and glared in his direction. "I'm not hungry."

Muneshige looked at her expectantly. "You have to eat. Even if you're not hungry."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone who knows anything about..." he paused a moment, trying to phrase his next words delicately. He knew how sensitive she was about it. "Your condition."

She paused, and with a knowing sigh, opened up the wrapped package and took a bite of the rice ball inside it. Muneshige could sense even her chewing motions laden with a certain bitterness. Of all people, it had to be her. Nobody took their own weakness harder than Ginchiyo Tachibana. "I hate it," he heard her mumble between bites.

"I do too, my dear, but that is unfortunately the way it is." Muneshige sighed, closing his saddlebag and glancing around sidelong for a peach tree. Eager to change the subject, he began his next sentence with a long, drawn out um."By the way... what do peach trees look like?"

Ginchiyo cast him a vicious glare. "You mean to tell me that you dragged us ten miles away from anything resembling civilization to find a peach tree that you can't even identify?"

Muneshige sighed. Guilty as charged. "Well, um... It has peaches on it."

Ginchiyo once again spat in disgust. "I can't believe you. You're an idiot." Muneshige couldn't say anything in response, considering in this case he agreed with her wholeheartedly. He simply let a quiet laugh trill from his throat.

"How hard can it be to find a peach tree? I bet we'll find one in the next few minutes," Muneshige said, an optimistic look on his face.

It had been another hour until they reached a hill with a large peach tree perched at the top of it. Ginchiyo, needless to say, refused to speak to her husband during that time, convinced that they had passed a good few that went unnoticed on the way there. Just as predictably, Muneshige was the first to break the pervading silence. "Those are peaches, alright." The obvious statement provoked a cold and piercing glance from his wife.

She nonchalantly motioned behind them with her thumb to the black mare she made the trip on, who was currently content with grazing near the base of the hill. "And that's a horse."

Muneshige ignored her and placed his hand on a rather small peach hanging from the tip of the branch, intent on picking it. A "hey" from Ginchiyo stopped him. He glanced over at her. "Yes?"

"Haven't you ever picked fruit before? Everyone knows the best peaches are at the top of the tree."

He glanced up. The tips of the topmost branches seemed to graze the clouds themselves. There was no way he was getting to that part of the tree. He could climb it, but he didn't trust himself enough not to fall. Ginchiyo obviously did not share the sentiment; when he glanced back down, she was already rapidly scaling the branches. "Wait," he said, raising a hand up after her as if he were trying to reach her.

Ginchiyo swung her leg over a branch and looked down at him with a huff. "What is it this time? I suppose you and your infinite knowledge are going to tell me this is a pear tree and not a peach tree."

"No, I'm going to tell you that it's a very long way down if you fall."

"Well, thank you for that bit of information, I will certainly file that away," she grumbled, and pulled herself up onto the next branch, and the next, as Muneshige kept a watchful eye on her. Eventually she reached near the top of the tree, and scooted up a branch to reach for a bunch of peaches hanging from the end. She glanced down at her husband, the size of a small mouse from where she was perched. Without noticing it, a smug smirk snaked across Ginchiyo's face. "Care to comment?"

Muneshige's eyes never wavered. An uneasy feeling crept up from the ground, through his feet, and his fingers twitched with every somersault his stomach made. "I would rather you picked the fruit closer to the ground."

"I'm not about to come all this way and bring back sub-par fruit just to get sent back again. The best peaches are at the top of the tree."

"Just..." Muneshige paused, his feet cemented to the ground, his legs rigid. "Be careful."

Ginchiyo scooted closer on the branch, which bowed a bit, and she locked her ankles around it to keep herself steady, laying on her stomach and attempting to reach for the peaches. "I've been able to take care of myself for years before we were married. I'm not about to hide behind you just because you're a man and I'm a feeble little woman," she grumbled, scooting closer and closer to the peaches.

The branch creaked, and Muneshige shuddered. "Ginchiyo, please, you're going to hurt yourself." He once again found himself ignored. Another creak as she moved closer. This one louder. Almost like a...

Crack.

The branch lurched for a moment, and Ginchiyo lost her footing, yelping in surprise as she hugged the branch closer; she dangled precariously for a moment before the entire branch gave way, breaking off the tree. Muneshige's eyes widened and his pupils shrank."Ginchiyo!" His senses could only make out her pained yells as he tried to register what was happening—it didn't quite occur to him until she had landed on the ground with a sickening thud and an painful wail, the branch landing on top of her not long after. She instinctively curled her body, attempting to suppress the cries of agony that fought to tear from her throat, and the grass around her rapidly stained red.

Muneshige's feet carried him to her as fast as they could, not that he willed them to—he realized his instincts had taken over the moment the branch broke—and he dropped to all fours, scrambling to get to her in a panic. Her usually intense brown eyes were open in a blank stare, filled with terror as she fought for breath and fought against crying out in pain, and he rapidly scanned her body for something he could do to ease her in at least some way. He noticed a large, leaking gash in her side, and his hands hovered just above it as his mind reeled through everything he was taught about first-aid. He took a deep breath and quickly removed his jinbaori and wadded it up in his hands. Attempting to keep his voice calm, he leaned toward Ginchiyo's face and took her shaky hand in his. Her poorly suppressed groans of pain ruined his efforts; his voice broke as he loudly told her, "This is going to hurt, okay?" No response, as he expected, but he didn't have time to wonder if it would be okay with her. The bleeding had to be stopped, and stopped now. He firmly pressed the cloth jinbaori onto the wound, and was met with a thrash, a tight squeeze of his hand, and a muffled cry.

His breath became heavy again and he struggled through her thrashes to keep the pressure on. "Ginchiyo, it's alright, I'm right here. Scream if you have to."

She opened her mouth, but a sound didn't escape.

Muneshige raised his voice in desperation. "Scream, Ginchiyo! Let it out!"

An agonized shriek tore from Ginchiyo's throat, and Muneshige gritted his teeth; the sound of her in pain was torturous to him. He desperately tried to keep the pressure on her wound, and her hands obsessively tore at the grass beneath her for what seemed like hours until the cloth was nearly soaked through with blood. Ginchiyo, in her thrashing, had torn into the ground with her hands, even dug into the soil by the time the bleeding stopped; her wails had died down to soft moans, too exhausted to cry out any louder.

Finally. Muneshige sat back, and remembered how to breathe again, his bloody jinbaori still clutched in his fist. His mind still ran at a million miles per hour, agonizing over what to do next. He glanced over at his horse near the top of the hill, a white stallion staring intently at his master, and as Muneshige called him nearer with a whistle, he still felt none of his usual rationality returning to him. He reached into his saddlebag and noticed his hands shaking as he fished in the bag for a blanket and his spare sarashi—he always kept an extra in case either of them needed to change clothes on the road—and he noticed that no number of deep breaths he took could calm him in the slightest way. Calm down, he told himself. Calm down, Muneshige.

He slowly lifted her into a sitting position, and carefully wrapped the sarashi around her waist like a bandage, being sure to keep pressure on the wound itself and attempting to no avail to be affected by the distressed look on her face and the weak sounds escaping from her every time she took a breath. "There, see...? It's okay. We'll get you some help, I promise." He spoke to her softly, his voice shaking as much as his hands, trying to soothe her.

Ginchiyo's mare approached them and sat in wait for a motion to follow. Muneshige patted the horse's nose reassuringly before wrapping the shivering Ginchiyo in a blanket, and standing and scooping her into his arms, careful not to aggravate the wound on her side. Even if he had, he wouldn't have been able to know. Ginchiyo had exhausted herself enough that she couldn't even lift her own arms to steady herself against his chest, let alone make a noise signifying pain.

He slowly lifted her onto his horse and got on himself, steadying her limp body between his legs, and signaled for his horse to begin moving. Ginchiyo felt the motion of plodding hooves, slow and careful. Her eyes, previously blank and stuck wide open, now drooped; she blinked slowly, one eye at a time, and her breathing was shallow and uneven. She shut her eyes to concentrate on finding a way to breathe without encountering searing pain, but she found herself instead drifting in and out of consciousness. Muneshige's words barely reached her—all she knew was that he was speaking to her. She attempted to make a noise in response to whatever he was saying; whether it was heard or not was unbeknownst to her. Ginchiyo pulled the blanket closer to her neck and once more concentrated on her breathing and listening to Muneshige's soft voice through the sound of the chilly and biting wind blowing against them.

"You have to stay awake, Ginchiyo," Muneshige continued, making sure his horse walked slowly and smoothly as possible back the direction they came. He cast glances behind him every once in a while to make sure Ginchiyo's horse was following in close pursuit. "Stay with me."

Ginchiyo mumbled in response, but it went unheard over a loud clap of thunder. Muneshige's attention shifted from his wife to the sky above them; gray clouds had shifted and covered the sky, and stray sparks of lightning dotted the landscape, while the few stray raindrops that dotted their faces grew in number until the impending storm made its entrance. The wind blew more fiercely with force enough to keep Muneshige from opening his eyes. He had to get Ginchiyo out of this storm somehow, but that meant more time lost to get her help. He was out of options, and he cast a glance up at the threatening sky and sent up a silent prayer as he directed the horses towards the woods off the path back to Chugoku.

"My Lord Dosetsu... Your daughter needs your help now. Send someone, send something, send anything. Please."

Once again, i'm going to remind you that historically, Ginchiyo was diabetic, and so when i say "condition" that's what i'm referring to.

Anyway, please expect another chapter up pretty soon!