The strategist didn't return. Masazumi dined alone, then slid open the doors to the garden and went outside, pacing around. He would remain true to his promise that he wouldn't use Okimoto to escape, but now he had to think of another solution. If he managed to get back into the strategist's good graces, at least he had an ally here. Okimoto would not let any harm come to him so long as he kept their relationship steady.

He fingered the vine around his neck. He needed a Mouri's cooperation to get it off, or die. Sighing in frustration, he sat down on the small stone bench, staring into the little pond as if the fish could tell him an answer.

Okimoto's affections were not quite unrequited. Masazumi wished the strategist would stop being so serious, and show his playful side again—he liked Okimoto better that way. And there was something irresistible about him. It was the kind of attraction that had no name, no words to describe, just a deep pulling from within, as inexplicable as the beguiled moth courting a flame.

Having him as a lover probably wouldn't be so bad. Masazumi wasn't partial towards either sex, and there were just as many tales of two male lovers who couldn't get enough of each other and went to great lengths to spend time together. Though, he did feel another man would understand him better, especially in these times where they lived their lives on the battlefield.

But what was he thinking? Did he know what he was getting into?

Unless I can get this vine off my neck, there is no way for me to escape safely. Only now did the full brunt of it strike him. He was not going home. He could continue to resist, or give in and try to adapt to a new life with the Mouri.

Sitting down, he buried his face into his hands. I'm sorry, Mitsunari. I'm so sorry. But I have no choice.

No, he would not cry again. Sucking in a breath, he raised his head and jerked. Okimoto stood there in the doorway watching him.

"Why do you always show up when a man is trying to stifle his sorrows?" Masazumi snapped.

Okimoto didn't respond, instead stepping daintily onto the grass and joining him on the bench, keeping a space between them. They gazed at each other for several heartbeats before the strategist spoke. "It's not that I show up whenever you're trying not to cry. Rather, it seems I always stumble across you when you need comfort."

He looked away, scowling. "I don't need comfort."

"You like grieving by yourself then? Keeping everything inside?"

"You never had to raise your little brother like I did! Maybe then you'd understand why!"

A hand slapped his shoulder. With snarl, he whirled to face the other man, whose face was also contorted.

"What makes you think," the strategist said, "that I don't understand what you're going through? What makes you think that we didn't lose our mother when we were almost too young to comprehend death?"

The outburst silenced him. So the Mouri siblings, too, had lost their mother at an early age, just like him and Mitsunari. He lowered his head. "I apologize."

"I'm envious of you, because you sound like you never had to separate from your brother, and to this day you're still close. There was a time when my brother and I didn't see each other for almost two years. When I returned home, he was a stranger. He wasn't the little brother I remembered. For him, I never changed, so I was the one who had to get to know him again. It was hard. And it still is. Despite so much time passing, we can never go back to how it was before."

"People change," Masazumi said quietly. "They react to betrayal, to pain...and they change."

"Yes, they do." The other man's voice was equally soft. "You sound like all is not well with your brother."

"Surely you heard of how the Tokugawa defected from the Toyotomi."

"Of course."

"My little brother was close friends with the leader of the Tokugawa. The betrayal hurt him very deeply. It is painful when you never see your brother smile anymore, and instead he is constantly angry. Our relationship has been rather strained. Up until now, anyway." He swallowed. "He won't have the chance to apologize."

Okimoto shut his eyes and sighed. "At least he'll think twice about taking you for granted."

Masazumi allowed a wry smile. "You have a point."

Those green eyes met his own. "I know how lonely you must be. I will try to make it more bearable for you."

"Hmph. Is this an offer of friendship?"

"You did not object very strongly to my liking you."

"So you've decided to believe me?"

"Perhaps against my better judgment. But when the time comes, I will know. Come. Let's go back inside before it gets too cold."

Once in the main room, Masazumi settled down in his bed, somewhat weary. His companion sat next to him and took the covers, tucking him in, much to his embarrassment.

"Are you so lonely that keeping a stranger in your room makes you feel better?" Masazumi asked. "A stranger who could easily attack and kill you, for that matter?

"I..." The other man's mouth worked a few times, before he shook his head. "No. Perhaps that will be for another time."

"But I want to know. Tell me."

Blinking, Okimoto laughed. "Well, when you put it that way, I have no choice." He swallowed. "Nari-chan found out, unintentionally, when he asked me about my romantic books. I foolishly thought I could trust him with my heart's most secret desire. He responded coldly, telling me I was selfish and to keep my fantasies to myself."

"If my brother spoke to me like that, I would have slapped him."

"You jump to conclusions. Nari-chan kept it a secret even though he didn't agree with it. Imagine the trouble I would have been in if my father found out I had no plans of producing heirs. Nari-chan understood that too." The strategist looked away. "In the end, I have no one to share my feelings with. Tsuna-chan—Mototsuna, our younger brother—left before I could talk to him about it. No one is willing to listen or to accept it. That's why...having you, someone I always wanted, is the best thing that could have happened."

Masazumi snorted. "You really are preoccupied with romance, aren't you?"

"It's just who I am. And it's my right to sigh and dream about potential lovers."

"You make me feel like my family married me off to you."

Okimoto burst out laughing. "My! That's the last thing I expected to hear out of you."

I'm going to be stuck here for some time, so I might as well make the most of starting over, Masazumi wanted to say, but decided against it. He had just won a little of Okimoto's trust, and didn't want the other man to doubt him again like before.

"Will your father and brother insist on making me talk?" he asked. "They're not fools. Sooner or later, they will realize why you are keeping me."

"Otou-chan likes you. Do you know how much you impressed him? You don't need to worry. He will think of other uses for you that don't involve torture."

"I'm afraid he will try to lure my little brother here, and catch him the same way he caught me."

Okimoto shook his head. "The Toyotomi will be on their guard after what happened. I just hope this doesn't spark a larger conflict between us and them."

Then let me go. Let me go back and no one has to suffer. He choked those words back down his throat. Now was not the time to say them.

"It's getting late." Rising to his feet, the strategist brushed off his kimono. "Good night."

"Good night." After their conversation, Masazumi felt that he owed the other man that much.

Okimoto smiled.

#

In the morning, Okimoto woke him, saying that Hiromoto wanted to see him again. Nervous, he prepared himself for the appointment and followed the other man through the castle. However, instead of the audience hall, they went to a more private sitting area, one where guests would relax with their hosts.

Here, at a table with a teapot and three cups, Hiromoto sat waiting. Masazumi greeted him and bowed, but did not sit until Okimoto was seated first.

The daimyou flicked a hand in the direction of the teapot. Well, it was only proper. Masazumi took the teapot and, calculating the speed and refinement of every movement, poured tea for all of them. Married off, indeed. If that were the case, then Hiromoto would be his father-in-law. Imagine that, such a powerful and notorious daimyou as a father-in-law.

"Ishida," Hiromoto said, "you seem rather cheerful today. Perhaps you would like to tell me what is so amusing about pouring tea?"

Masazumi adjusted his composure, cursing the corner of his mouth. And he hadn't been smiling that noticeably. "I apologize, Hiromoto-dono. I simply find it ridiculous that I am serving tea to the fearsome daimyou."

"Indeed. I also find it ridiculous that an elite Toyotomi warrior is serving me tea instead of being interrogated."

Masazumi turned the cup so that its most unblemished side faced the other man, just like how Mitsunari did it at tea ceremonies, and slid the cup forward. "Your tea, sir."

Taking the cup, Hiromoto sipped at it. "You have some class that I was not expecting. To business, then. I called you here to discuss your future."

"What do you have planned for me?"

"I have thought this over carefully. It would be a waste to injure you with torture, as you have so clearly demonstrated your intellect, and because of your incredible prowess in battle. The common soldier is what he is—common. But exceptional men like you are rare, and I'm not so foolish as to keep you idle."

"In other words, you want me to work for you."

"Yes. That's what I've been thinking."

"With all respect, Hiromoto-dono, I told you already that I won't change my allegiance no matter what you offer me. Besides, how can I fight for you if I can't even leave the castle without dying?" It was a dangerous question.

The daimyou tapped the table with a finger.

Masazumi decided to press a little. "I may be sharp-witted, but I am a frontline warrior, not a strategist. I don't have the gift of creating flawless tactics. The battlefield, carrying out my orders, is where I belong."

"Despite being so adamant that you won't work for me, you sound like just the opposite."

He lowered his head. "Considering my position, I don't have much of a choice. If I don't accept, I'll just be another mouth to feed, and a large one at that. And you have no need for useless men, so you'll dispose of me."

"I don't need a young creature like you to tell me what to do with useless men. Are you speaking the truth, Ishida? Or is this just a ploy to get the Prisoner's Noose off your neck?"

Curses. "No, it is not, Hiromoto-dono."

He jumped as the daimyou slammed his teacup onto the table. "So if we remove the plant, you honestly expect me to believe that you will remain with us, honour your word, and not escape? Do you really think I will believe that if we march against the Toyotomi, you won't go running off in the heat of battle and rejoin them?"

Swallowing, he locked eyes with Hiromoto. "I admit that if the latter scenario happened, I would return home where I rightfully belong. Anyone would. I will not lie about that."

"I told you already I will not allow you to return. Therefore, that plant remains around your neck."

"You and I both know that eventually, I will return to the Toyotomi one way or another. Either they will come for me, or I will find some way to go to them. Perhaps, in the meantime, I could work for you as a way to pay off some debts."

"Debts? But you don't owe us anything."

"I owe you for the hospitality."

"But you still insist on going back to the Toyotomi."

"There is no other way this will end."

"Hmmm." Hiromoto rested his chin on a hand. "I see what you're getting at. You want this to be like a trade. Instead of remaining our prisoner indefinitely, you will assist us in our conquests in return for your freedom."

Bowing his head, he gave off as timid and uncertain a demeanor as he could muster. "Yes. I suppose you could put it that way."

"You are aware of what you are becoming by proposing such an offer? You will be nothing more than a sellsword, forsaking the flag you currently carry and taking up another's."

"I don't care about my reputation. Right now, I must do what I can. The Toyotomi will understand. And I never asked for payment, so you can't call me a mercenary."

"Still trying to retain some honour, I see. How valiant."

"I have one condition."

"You are not in any position to be making demands."

"Oh yes I am. This is a negotiation, after all. I will crush any opposition for you save the Toyotomi. I commanded the men there and they trusted me with their lives. I won't raise my sword against them."

"Otou-chan," Okimoto broke in, "I find the idea of this trade very interesting. We can use him to effortlessly eradicate any pockets of resistance from the Amago or other clans. Even if we do allow him to return to the Toyotomi afterwards, think of what we would have gained than if we forced him to spend his days here in the castle. Our control over Chugoku would be almost complete. Everything is to our advantage."

"I know. But for that, we need to remove the Prisoner's Noose, which is a risk I don't want to take. Do you know what a beast would be unleashed then? How much damage he could inflict on us?"

"With all respect, Hiromoto-dono," Masazumi said dryly, "if our first duel is of any indication, you could put me down yourself with no effort if I were to try something that foolish."

"Ha! The young man speaks sense." Hiromoto waved a hand. "You are dismissed. I will consider your offer. Okimoto, stay. I wish to speak with you."

Masazumi rose, bowed, and backed out of the room, bowing again in the doorway before stepping out in as dignified a manner as possible. As he returned to the suite, he hoped Okimoto was all right and that Hiromoto hadn't suspected any development of friendship between the two of them. The daimyou was incredibly astute. Nothing slipped past him.

In the safety of the suite, Masazumi paced around. Hiromoto would consider his offer. What if he accepted? How could the Ishida warrior be sure that the crafty strategist wouldn't manipulate him, or set up some elaborate scheme?

Furthermore, if the Toyotomi received news that Masazumi was assisting the Mouri in their domination of Chugoku, how would they react? How would Mitsunari react?

I am his brother, he told himself. He wouldn't treat me like that bastard Ieyasu. Mitsunari's faith in me won't waver. I need to believe in him, as much as he would believe in me. He would know that I'm helping the Mouri in order to survive.

Or would he? The wounds on Mitsunari's heart were still fresh. Their constant fighting and the void that had opened up in their relationship didn't help matters either. Perhaps Mitsunari would have no qualms labeling his own brother a traitor to the Toyotomi.

The mere thought of crossing swords with his little brother, as enemies, sent numb pain searing through his heart. For his lifelong companion to turn against him, childhood and friendship and their meshed lives be damned, was an unspeakable nightmare.

No, he could not let those thoughts roam further. Dropping down on a cushion, he hugged his knees against his chest. Mitsunari had refused to leave his side until it was nearly too late. And his tears. Abandoning Masazumi to his fate was too painful for words, perhaps because the younger Ishida only just remembered how precious their bond was despite the sorry state of their relationship.

Stupid, stupid Mitsunari.

Footsteps approached and the door slid open, permitting Okimoto to glide into the room. He of course noticed Masazumi's melancholy form huddled on the floor.

"Is everything all right?" the strategist asked softly, joining him.

Masazumi considered his options and decided it was all right to confide in this man. "I was just thinking about my brother. Worrying about how he might be paranoid and delusional enough to declare me a traitor once word gets out that I'm helping the Mouri."

Okimoto frowned. "Your relationship must have soured quite a bit for you to make a statement like that."

"Damn that Ieyasu, everything is his fault," he said bitterly. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have...I wouldn't have told Mitsunari to get to know him better, to encourage him to make friends with the man."

"Why did Tokugawa leave the Toyotomi?"

"He and the Toyotomi leaders didn't see eye to eye. Ieyasu believed that the only way towards achieving a true and lasting peace was to draw all the warring lords under a banner of genuine friendship, insisting that kindness was the only way to reach them."

"Such idealism! It's a wonder he survived this long."

"As time passed, Ieyasu grew dissatisfied with the direction we were taking to unify the country. He argued more and more with the leaders, and then one day he and his army marched out of Osaka and that was the end of that. This crushed my little brother. He and Ieyasu had been the closest friends for some time. Mitsunari suffered many betrayals from trying to find friends who would be loyal to him." Masazumi swallowed. "He wouldn't get out of bed the next day, and then he spent the next week moping around. It was painful to see him so depressed and so defeated. Then we received word that Tokugawa forces were heading east, in opposition to our expansion, and..."

He couldn't bring himself to speak.

"He did not take the news well?" Okimoto's voice was quiet.

"Not at all. He...became someone else entirely. Someone I never knew could exist. From an awkward little brother who knew how to laugh, into a furious cold-hearted beast devoted only to his work, who never smiled anymore, hell-bent on getting revenge against the man who wounded him where it hurt the most. Could you bear seeing such a transformation, Mouri? If so, I want to know how. How did you withstand such a thing without it breaking your heart constantly?"

A hesitant hand reached out, hovered, then laid itself on his shoulder. "The same thing happened to my little brother. He was always outspoken, cheerful, and happy. Then I left home for two years, and when I returned not a trace of him remained. It was like he traded places with a stranger bearing his likeness. Cold, cruel, ruthless in his tactics, and with an utter disregard for human life. When I see him smile now, it is like witnessing a flower that only blooms once a century. I know your pain too well. At first I denied it, tried to find ways to make him change back, but it only led to fights. Then I decided I had to get to know him all over again, and our relationship improved. Sometimes, he allowed me to see what was really in his heart—his innocent self before the coldness took over. It was then that I understood he never truly changed, but built a wall to protect himself because I was not there to do that."

"I suppose that's where I went wrong," Masazumi murmured. "I tried too hard to make Mitsunari see what he had become, to show him the mistakes he was making. Instead that just made him push me further and further away, because to him I wasn't trying to understand him. And he was right, in a way. I was denying it, trying to make his new self stop existing, for things to go back to how they were before. He needed me to just listen, to be there and to let him be himself, and I refused to do either, believing I was always in the right. It's no wonder now that we fought so much and then stopped talking to each other."

That hand rubbed his shoulder. "Neither of you are in the right or the wrong. It is simply a lack of mutual understanding. The two of you just need to spend time together, to talk about your feelings and share your thoughts."

"Mitsunari is almost unable to trust anyone now. He is constantly looking for behaviour in others that might hint at betrayal. This does him more harm than good. Too easily he misunderstands something, or finds a reason to be suspicious of someone."

"Would he truly believe that you betrayed him?"

"No," Masazumi admitted. "I know it in my heart that he would never believe that about me. No, it was silly for me to even consider it."

"It's not silly. The two of you have grown distant, and your trust with it. But now, that trust is being tested, and if you are brothers then nothing will break you. Don't worry. I'm sure he would know you are fighting for your life even though you are battling under our banner."

Raising his head, he gazed into those eyes. "Thank you. Your words have comforted me greatly. Perhaps I can sleep better now."

"We are not so different, you and I. But this Tokugawa...he certainly sounds like a troublemaker."

"Ieyasu is the worst kind of man. He preaches and prattles about the power of bonds, yet when others refuse to accept his ideologies he has no qualms about abandoning former allies and turning against them. He is a hypocrite, through and through. A man who disguises his true intent under a mask of kindness is, as I said, the worst man. I would very much rather make comrades out of you Mouri than with him. At least you're honest about your intentions."

Okimoto laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Has your father said anything about the deal?"

"No, but he is serious about considering it. That's good news for you."

"Does he suspect anything about why you're keeping me as a pet?"

The strategist lowered his head. "Nothing gets past Otou-chan. He didn't make it obvious, but I'm sure he has his suspicions. He warned me to keep my distance from you, that you were far more dangerous than you let on." The green gaze lifted to meet his. "That much I know is true. But I...I can't help but be drawn to you. Perhaps it is the thrill of not knowing what you'll do next. Sometimes I feel as though you are the one seducing me."

"Oh. I didn't know I was doing that."

"Rest assured, Ishida Masazumi, if I decide to make you mine, I will find a way even if you return to the Toyotomi."

The Ishida warrior offered him a crooked smile. "Perhaps that won't be necessary."

Okimoto inhaled sharply. The colour rose to his cheeks. "Say that only if you mean it. Words are promises."

Looking away, Masazumi gave him silence as an answer.

"You have enough respect not to toy with my heart, then. You are a man true to your word." The strategist got to his feet. "We make a poor match anyway—the steadfast, honest and just warrior, and the sly, manipulative, backstabbing strategist. It is a hopeless match."

With that, Okimoto walked to his study. Masazumi watched him. Watched the sway of his hips and the large, shapely rump as the fabric shifted and creased across it. Strange, to think he found this man attractive.

But the strategist was right. They were a hopeless match.