Managing to slip away from Masamune hasn't been easy lately. Tonight, however, a vassal approached him the moment we entered the front door. Being light on my feet, I slid out before it closed, choosing to go around to the back. I'd be safely in my hidden space before he noticed I was missing. The maids paid no attention to me, gossiping about the latest scandal in town.

There was a part of the mansion that had been forgotten about. It should have been under repair, but since Masamune traveled back and forth between his home fief and Azuchi, no one had bothered to fix the area. Most avoided this wing. That's where I'd found my paradise of solitude, in an old study.

My own room should be safe, but Masamune doesn't know how to knock or how to wait until asked to enter. He typically throws the door open and barges in with whatever ridiculous question or request he wants me to entertain. It's never about a job. He sends vassal to retrieve me when it has to do with work. My room is no longer safe to hide and unwind.

This room had been difficult to enter at first. A shelf had fallen over, almost completely blocking the entrance. With some shoving and determination, I could lift it high enough to slip underneath. The rest of the place had books and scrolls everywhere, piles of forgotten texts on the floor. It was spacious enough to create a wall of them in the very back, behind another fallen shelf. The wood had splintered and sanding it off had been a lot of work. Books had been stacked high to make a barrier should anyone look inside.

Sitting down a pillow that I'd stolen from another room, I lit the last candle. There were ten of them in total, creating enough light to be able to read if I wanted it. Most of these texts were so old and filled with information about wars, that I'd grown bored. Instead, I opted for created strings of shapes to pass the time. The quiet was lovely. It had taken over a year to create this and it was all mine.

Until tonight.

"So, this is where you've been disappearing to," Masamune had somehow gotten through the small opening and was intent on invading this space to bother me. "I had almost forgotten this room was here."

That was the point. Sinking down further into my corner, I hoped that maybe if I didn't answer he would just go away. A stupid thought, as Masamune Date didn't give up easily.

"I know you're in here, Katria," he said, trampling on strewn out scrolls. Some ripped as he moved forward. At this rate, he'll destroy the place.

Coming out from behind my sanctuary, I sighed. "Did you need me?"

"I always need you," Masamune retorted with a sly smirk. He scanned the area I'd come from and he walked closer to get a better look. Like a child staring at a secret fort, he turned to look at me. "You did all this?"

With a nod, I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. Whatever he'd wanted from me would be overwritten with his desire to invade my personal space. If I let him past me into the corner, it'll be tainted. Staring as I waited, I folded my arms.

Masamune held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, I get it. You don't want me here." That playful gleam in his eyes made me internally groan. However, he only said, "We'll be leaving midday tomorrow for our hunt. Don't be late."

I'm never late. "Fine."

He stared a moment longer before moving to exit the room. As he reached the doorway, he snapped his fingers. "Oh, and I thought you might be hungry so there's a warm bowl of soup waiting for you, and some konpeito for a desert." He'd gone to the trouble of cooking for me? Lifting the shelf slowly, like he was waiting for me to take the bait, he glanced back.

And I made him wait, a solid minute before I resigned and said, "I guess I can come eat something." Thinking about food made my stomach growl. Meals weren't easy for me, as I hated to cook. Most days I only ate whenever I had to, maybe twice a day if lucky. It only took a few moments for me to blow out all the candles, lest I burn down the mansion with carelessness.

The two of us walked together back to the main hall, and like always, he'd gone overboard with his 'hospitality'. I shouldn't have let him lure me in with promise of good food. The table had plates of all kinds of foods and rice, along with only two places set for us. It began to feel like a forced romantic scenario by the second. He just loves to try to woo women.

"Soup and konpeito?" I asked, irritation laced in my voice.

Masamune put his hands on my shoulders, steering me forward. "You wouldn't have come if I had told you truth. Humor your lord and sit down," he said.

He was quiet for the first few minutes. Too quiet. It made eating hard to focus on because of it. This man never shuts up, ever. He always has something to say. There's a reason he's done this, albeit, it could be because he wants to win me over. That didn't feel right, though. Refusing to break the silence, I kept my eyes down at the food on the table.

"Katria Petrov."

I nearly jumped when he said my full name.

Masamune didn't have any kind of smirk on his face, instead, a very serious expression. "Tell me something, and I'll know if you're lying," he paused, wanting to make his words sound threatening. "What are you really doing in Japan?"

"What?" I'd paused mid movement to grab another bite of rice.

Raising an eyebrow, he repeated the question. "What are you really doing in Japan? Five years ago, you just appeared in the town I had been passing through and knew exactly who I was. What does a Russian assassin want with a powerful Japanese warlord?"

This question has been thrown around a few times, but always in different variations. Why did you choose me? Why did you want to come to Japan? Etc. etc. This seemed much more forward. There had been this underlying suspicion exuding from him since I arrived, but Masamune had kept it to himself mostly, likely hoping that I would fall in love with him and tell him everything.

"A safe place to live and work," I answered, as I always had.

My words sent a wave of annoyance through him. His eye narrowed at me. "Tell me the truth."

Setting the bowl of rice down, I shrugged my shoulders. "That is the truth."

"Not all of it."

Sending back an equally nasty glare, I let a few more things slip out, hoping to satiate his need to understand me. "My life in Russia is my business. It has nothing to do with you or why I wanted to work for you. You want the truth? Miki told me to. Based on her information, it would be easy for me to find work as assassin with a warlord like yourself. There was nothing special about it."

His silence hung in the room like tar. We were stuck, glaring at each other. He wouldn't get the answers he wanted from me. Sharing my life story with a man like him is the last thing I would ever do. Finally, he spoke again. "Nothing special, huh? If that were true, then I should have killed you that day you begged for me to take you in."

That is not what happened.

"I did not beg. I saved your life, and the offered my services as an assassin," I corrected. There was no begging involved. This change in subject had made him forget about his initial question. I'd humor him in this conversation to keep away from the other.

Masamune shrugged his shoulders. "You and I remember that day much differently."

I rolled my eyes. "You're just making up facts. You had no idea that ninja was following you."

"I did."

"You did not," I answered, much like a child arguing with another. He's such a liar. "Had I been a few seconds slower, you wouldn't be sitting here right now."

There it was. That playful grin slipping onto his lips and he leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. "Enlighten me, then. How was it for you?"

I shouldn't play into this, but part of me wanted him to understand that I hadn't come to him because I wanted to use him or had ulterior motives Miki had told me to choose him and said that I would have to make a big gesture to prove that I truly wanted to work for him. That day had been long, and boring, having to follow him around and find an opening to even speak with him. That ninja had just happened to be the perfect entrance that I needed.

Sometimes, I do regret stepping in.