Two years passed. During this time, Mitsunari fought alongside his family in numerous campaigns, some short, some long and grueling. He continued to obliterate his enemies and soon gained a reputation amongst the soldiers. His skills improved with each battle, and though he acquired his share of scars, he frequently emerged unscathed. And it was no longer difficult for him to cut down other men with his blade. Having since grown used to the blood and the screams and the twisted open-jawed faces, he accepted his duty as an Ishida warrior—to be the ultimate killing machine on the battlefield. Sleeping well afterwards was no longer a problem and he did not allow himself to question it. He learned not to. Masatsugu often said that there was no place for morality in war, and he was right. Questioning such things meant weakness, and weakness meant death. And Mitsunari was long since done being weak.

In these two years, Mitsunari's voice finally deepened, something which he welcomed but feared.

"Mitsunari," Masatsugu said one morning at breakfast, "you haven't spoken a word since yesterday. Are you all right?"

The young Ishida, fuming, lowered his head. Because Masazumi was already grinning at him across the table, waiting for him to open his mouth.

"Mitsunari?" Masatsugu's eyes flicked back and forth between his sons.

"I'm fine, Otou-sama," Mitsunari answered, and winced at the squeaking and cracking.

Laughing, his older brother imitated a duck.

"Masazumi! Stop that!"

"And why should I? When my voice did that, he was the one who wouldn't quit laughing at me! Don't you remember? I should at least be allowed to return the favour!"

"This has been going on for days now, and it's becoming irritating. Leave your little brother alone!"

"Well that's no fun." Pursing his lips, Masazumi tossed his head. "I don't recall you ever coming to my rescue when he was tormenting me."

"Because you always knocked him around yourself?"

"Then stop taking his side and let him knock me around! That's a fair trade, isn't it?"

Mitsunari slammed his hands against the table, earning himself a glare from his father. "How old are you, Onii-sama? At least act your age, you...you pig!"

Masazumi burst out in laughter again. "Oh, what's this? A duck trying to call me a pig? How incredibly insulting! You truly wound me with your words!"

Springing to his feet, Mitsunari prepared to give his brother the walloping he deserved, but Masazumi fled from the room in mock terror, quacking all the way.

When Mitsunari's voice finally completed its transition, he was glad it was over.

He continued to grow, constantly needing his armour and jinbaori adjusted. Now, black spikes jutted out from his armour and his new jinbaori was pleated. His face lost its childlike roundness, replaced with slender and refined features. A young man of sixteen, he stood tall and proud just like his brother. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he trained or how much he lifted weights, he discovered that he was not, in fact, going to have the body he wanted.

"You have a skinny build, that's why," Masazumi teased. "You can't put much muscle on skinny arms or skinny legs. And if you were as tall as me you'd look like a rod."

Glaring back, Mitsunari's face prickled with heat, but he couldn't keep his eyes away from his brother's broad shoulders or the upper arms, bulging with muscle. Masazumi wasn't overly bulky, but sleek yet powerful like the perfect predator. And poor Mitsunari was simply...thin. Strong, but wiry.

"W-Well then, fine!" he retorted. "Perhaps I'm better off not being a brute like you!"

"Ha! Admit it, you're jealous because you were born to be pretty with your kitsune-gao and wear fancy clothes!" The older Ishida flexed, turning his body provocatively. "The firstborn child is always biggest, strongest, and smartest!"

Mitsunari smashed him in the shoulder with a fist and stormed off, Masazumi's snickering still ringing in his ears. Having an older sibling could be such a nightmare.

Well, at least he was only slightly shorter than his brother. It was difficult to believe that he now walked without feeling out of place among the soldiers. Two years ago they all loomed over him, but now it finally felt like they were giving him the respect he deserved.

They gave him more attention, too. Whenever he and Masazumi sparred in the courtyard within the barracks, the soldiers always crowded around them to watch. Though they could barely see the two Ishida move, it was the fluid, semi-invisible dance and the sudden, erratic clashes of weapons that entranced them. Mitsunari could never understand the soldiers. Sometimes they seemed intrigued by the killing prowess demonstrated by him and his family, but most of the time they were content to keep their distance and took great pains to appear respectful.

Their respect was born from fear, Masazumi said, and that was the reason nobody ever wanted to associate with them. Because everyone only saw them as killing machines, living tools of war that brought nothing but sure death to any men on the opposing side. They were not seen as human. This angered Mitsunari, and he tried to deny it by attempting friendliness, but quickly and painfully confirmed the truth. Giving up hope of gaining any real friends among the soldiers, he adopted Masazumi's indifference and condescension towards them—he allowed them some basic courtesy, but made sure they scrambled to obey his every order without question.

Hanbei, meanwhile, continued to educate the two warriors in strategy, but also expanded their education to include administrative affairs and, at Masatsugu's insistence, the arts. The brothers always looked forward to seeing him, enjoying his company and lessons as much as they had when they were children. Seeing Hanbei's gentle smile always brought warmth to Mitsunari's heart. The strategist had been with them since they were little, and to them, he was something more than just a teacher.

And so life remained as it was. Today was one of many peaceful days at home. Mitsunari buried his nose in a book—he had developed a voracious appetite for stories of all kinds—and was absorbed in it for hours. Until Masazumi entered his room and bumped his shoulder playfully.

Mitsunari rolled his eyes and marked his page. "What do you want?"

"We're heading out," Masazumi said, the smile vanishing from his face. "Chichi-ue says it's time for me to show you something important."

"Really?" Curious, Mitsunari got to his feet. "Let's go, then."

The two left the castle and crossed the moat into the city, walking side-by-side like they always did. Mitsunari tilted his head back and inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh spring air. All around, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, filling the city with a blaze of pink and purple. It was a beautiful day, and many of the citizens gathered in the streets to admire the blossoms. Chatter and laughter buzzed in the air. It reminded him of playing in Kyoto, so long ago.

Masazumi led him through the city streets, taking paths through alleys, and the citizens' clothing grew increasingly shabby. To any who seemed like ruffians and dared gaze at them too long, Mitsunari delivered vicious glares, sending them scuttling on their way.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his wakizashi.

"You'll see. We're almost there."

"I expected some kind of answer," he mumbled.

"That would be like skipping to the end of a story, wouldn't it?" Masazumi held out a hand, stopping him as they reached the opening of a street. "Here is fine. I don't want to get too close. Come up here and take a look."

Mitsunari obeyed. They were definitely in a poorer section of the city. Before them stood a large building, reminiscent of an inn, decorated with red lanterns. Men swaggered in and out, while others gathered around a section at the front which closely resembled some kind of prison. Mitsunari strained to see what was inside, and a cold feeling seeped through his veins. A huddle of women sat in silence inside the display, faces heavy with makeup, heads tilted demurely. Countless hairpins poked out from the heads of each and they wore their obis with the bow in the front—both were the marks of prostitutes.

He turned to his brother, whose eyes were on him. "You really thought showing me a brothel was important?"

Masazumi shrugged. "Chichi-ue said I should."

"Don't tell me you've...used the services of these women before."

The older Ishida punched him in the shoulder. "How dare you think so lowly of me? Don't be stupid! I have far better uses for my money."

Mitsunari stepped back into the safety of the street opening. "This is a waste of time. Let's just go."

"Not so fast," Masazumi snapped. "I want to know what you think."

"What do I think? I want to leave before people notice us and then start spreading rumours that we were here in this filthy place, that's what!"

His brother rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Fine. Would you feel better talking about this in a safer spot?"

Mitsunari jerked his head. "Let's go."

They left the brothel behind them, although the sight of the prostitutes displayed in such a manner, like caged animals, rankled in the back of his mind. When they worked their way out of the poor section of the city and back to a more decent area, he let loose the quiet sigh trapped in his lungs. Walking to a familiar park, they sat down on a bench.

"I expect a serious answer this time," Masazumi said.

Mitsunari's cheeks tingled. "Are you suggesting that I'd want to...get involved with such a place?"

"Well, would you?"

"Of course not! I have not the least interest. The sight of those men flocking there so casually makes me ill."

"But you're not even a little curious about what it's like to bed someone?"

"Onii-sama," Mitsunari growled, "are you trying to embarrass me?"

"I had this same chat with Chichi-ue. He took me there and asked me the same questions. It was important enough to him that he wanted to discuss it, and now he expects me to do the same with you."

"Why did he take you there, anyway? Otou-sama is completely devoted to Okaa-sama and refused to consider remarrying. Neither of you have any business in such a place and I refuse to believe he would have given in to such temptations in his youth. Same with you."

"He wanted to show me a part of the world I wasn't aware of."

"I already told you, I don't care about bodily desires. My duty to my lords and my family come first, and I don't want or need such trivial distractions."

"Do you know it wouldn't be wrong for any man to walk into one of those places and select a woman to partner with for such a short time? Even if he was married?"

"What?" Mitsunari stared at him.

"It's true. Nobody would think less of us if we did. Everyone does it. Don't pretend you haven't heard the soldiers' conversations."

"We have our own honour to protect, Onii-sama. I don't care what other men do or say. I wouldn't defile myself like that, paying to use another human being as a cheap toy to...to satisfy lust."

Masazumi smiled. "Funny. I said the same thing to Chichi-ue, about honour."

"We were always alike."

"Do you think you'll ever be interested in someone?"

"I don't know...I suppose if I ever...liked someone, then maybe..." His hands curled into fists. "This is a pointless question."

"Pointless? Pointless how?"

"I'm not oblivious to matters concerning love or lovemaking. They—"

"They're always present in some way in books. I know."

"Shut up and listen. I would know if I ever gain feelings for someone, if I grow to love them. But where we are now, it won't be possible. We're isolated in the castle, always among other men. Some of the servants are women but they might as well not exist. We have no friends, Onii-sama. And that means there are some parts of life that we don't know about. Compared to the common person, we're...stunted."

Masazumi remained silent and listened, the way he always did when he knew complicated thoughts weighed down his brother's mind.

"A common man our age would know how to act around women. He would know how to deal with the attention they lavish on him. You've seen the young ladies in the wealthier streets and how they look at us. I hate it when they watch me, when they turn to their companions and whisper about me. They only do it because of my appearance. If I were disfigured they would look down at me with disgust. They would not care about my position within the Toyotomi or the deeds that brought me there. Their attraction to me is purely physical. It is the shallowest kind of relationship and far below my dignity to pursue." Catching his breath, he swallowed. "And so, it's like I said."

"Pointless," Masazumi said.

"Pointless," he agreed. "Something that won't satisfy either of us."

"Then we shall become lonely old men."

"Maybe something will happen," Mitsunari said quietly. "You never know. And why would you say that? Do you need a relationship?"

Masazumi thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I can live without one. I'm happy as I am now. I don't have the time or patience to look after someone when I have so many things to pursue."

Mitsunari snorted. "That's true. You're always thinking about what you'll accomplish next, and you never let anything get in your way once you've decided on something."

"I suppose maybe if the right person ever came along, then I'd be willing to devote some time to them. But they would have to be someone I respect...not just any person. Someone who is right for me, who can learn and understand who I am."

Mitsunari mulled over the words. "Yes, that sounds right."

"With you, and Chichi-ue, I'm never lonely. So it doesn't matter to me, whether such a thing happens to me or not."

The younger Ishida shared those sentiments. He simply nodded.

Rising, Masazumi brushed off his haori. "We're done here, then. Let's go home."