DAWN

"He said he'd be back before dawn," Mitsuhide slowly repeated for the—no, he'd lost count two or three times ago. Not that keeping track served any real purpose, other than giving him something else to focus on. Because they'd had this exact same conversation, over and over and over, ever since he'd woken Zen.

"So where. The hell. Is he?"

The Prince stalked round the room, pausing to fling back the blankets on one bed, stooping to peer beneath another. Leaning over the third to check the narrow space between it and the wall. Like at any moment, he expected Obi to spring forth from—wherever he'd hidden himself—that stupid smirk plastered across his face.

And gifting the lot of them a heart attack in the process, Mitsuhide sighed, packing the last of his gear into his saddlebag.

"That idiot," Zen muttered, straightening. "We don't have time for this." He paced over to the window; tossed aside the drapes for—Mitsuhide'd lost count on that front, as well.

But, as the sun slowly rose above the treetops—as more and more of early morning crept by without a poorly concealed snicker drifting out from some dark corner of the room—Zen's mood only sank further.

He should have stopped him.

Mitsuhide stood, shouldering his bag. "Maybe he's just running late."
It certainly wouldn't be the first time Obi'd waltzed back to them, a full day behind schedule. Somehow radiating nonchalance, despite the blown deadline.

Zen clicked his tongue, then rounded on him.
"Mitsuhide!" he ordered, "What were his exact words?"

Not again – !
Mitsuhide opened his mouth to speak, but a firm knock at the door saved him from the cycle.

Zen lunged, elbowing his way past Mitsuhide, fumbling briefly with the latch before yanking the door open.
"Kiki!" he shouted, practically breathless. "Find anything?"

Kiki silently raised an eyebrow as the door slammed against the wall, one hand still raised in preparation for a second knock.
"No one has seen him since last night," she reported. "But his horse is still in the stables."

"And the roof?" Zen ventured, still hopeful.

"I checked twice," Kiki crossed her arms.

Zen swallowed. "The market?"

But Kiki merely shook her head.

Nothing.

Zen's face, bright at the prospect of good news, dimmed by degrees until it finally sank back into a grimace.
"Seriously, that guy..." he kicked at nothing in particular and turned back into the room, pinching a lock of hair between thumb and forefinger.

Kiki stepped to the side as Mitsuhide joined her in the hall. "And you?" she inquired.

"Just his coat." He patted the bag at his shoulder, where he'd stowed it carefully amongst his own things. He'd already scoured their room as thoroughly—and as quietly—as possible, racing the sun's relentless climb above the horizon.

Inside, Zen swore under his breath, wrestling with his saddlebag.

"Only the coat..." Kiki slowly echoed, dropping a hand to the pommel of her sword.
"It was his writing," she mused.

"Yes," Mitsuhide agreed, glancing down the hall to where Shirayuki stood, just outside the room she'd shared with Kiki. She cradled her medicine kit in her arms and stared down at the crumpled note in her hand. At the short scrawl that completely flipped their morning on it's head.

He definitely should have stopped him.

"What do you think?" He looked back to his partner.

Trouble was, they'd both agreed not to.

Kiki hummed, fingers tapping out a slow rhythm against her sword's grip.

Zen finally stomped into the hall, saddlebag slung under one arm and still grumbling. "Seriously. We're in the middle of a forest. Where the hell did he go?—If he's asleep up a tree he's getting the morning watch for a month."

And with that, Kiki stopped tapping and turned toward the Prince.
"Just a moment. I have an idea."

She pivoted on her heel and paced down the hall, toward the front desk and the innkeep.