Chapter Twenty – To Eleven

Shingen dropped that affable mask, and the look he gave me nearly incinerated me on the spot.

I lifted my chin, determined not to be the one who spoke first. To be honest (for once), I wasn't sure what I could say. I wasn't sure if I could even speak – the events of the past hour left me in a tangle of confused emotions – fury at Iekane for what he had tried to do to us all, embarrassment for being revealed so publicly, shame for not finding Iekane before he had a chance to act, and … the big one, guilt for lying to Shingen. All my feelings were reaching critical mass and had nowhere to go.

"Messenger, maid, daredevil, spy… so many roles you've played." Shingen prowled the room, circling me… once… twice. Underneath his rage, there was pain. I had done this. I had done this to him. "I'll choose one for now. Liar."

His tone cut like a lash. It hurt more because I deserved it. But while the voice inside me was telling me to shut up and take it, I couldn't help but point out, "You knew I was a liar. I told you I was." Also, technically not a spy, not that it would do me any good to argue that at this moment.

"I knew she was a liar," Shingen confirmed. "I didn't know you were, Katsu." He paused, then corrected, "Katsuko."

She is me. I am she. And yet in my head they were still separate people, with different wants.

He stopped in front of me and again stared until I felt forced to look up at him. "Are you here spying for Nobunaga? Do you work for Mitsuhide?"

"N-no. It's y-y-you. Since I've been here, I've only worked for you." Even if I had been able to contact Aki, I wouldn't have told him anything.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." He took hold of my arm – firmly but not painfully. "Would you be more honest after a night or two in Kenshin's dungeons?"

After an hour in a dark windowless room, I would be unlikely to make any sense at all. I planted my feet on the ground and scrambled for another option before he could herd me anywhere. After a hasty look around the room, I focused on the wooden practice swords. "Would you give me a fighting chance?"

He looked at the swords. "I'd have given Katsu a fighting chance. If he existed."

In spite of those words, though, he retrieved two swords. "If you want to fight, Angel," and there was a mocking quality to that name, "you still owe me a kiss." He tossed me a sword. "Double or nothing."

He wouldn't have accepted a refusal, and my pride wouldn't have offered one. Besides, right now, I was in the mood to savage something. This would do. "Deal."

"Until yield," he said, raising the sword, sounding utterly confident that I would be the one yielding to him. "If you think to hang back and then run away, think again, for I will find you, even if I must climb every tree in the province."

That was an empty threat. If I ran, I knew he would not find me – not even if he sent all his mitsumono as well. But he deserved this fight, and so I stayed.

We'd sparred before, but the previous time had been a training exercise – part fun, part education. This time, he didn't pause to allow me to get some concept into my head. He outweighed me, he could outreach me, and he was physically stronger. This could be over in minutes if I weren't faster and more agile.

When I backflipped out of the way of his sword, something I knew he hadn't seen me do before, he seemed surprised. Then I lashed out with a kick, nearly catching him in the stomach, but it was mistimed, and he easily spun out of the way.

Suddenly he smiled, but it was not his normal smile, or even his flirtatious smile. This smile was without joy. "I'm going to win. Do you know why?"

I had several theories why he was most likely to win, but since the question was clearly rhetorical, I ignored it, focused on not losing at that moment, and once again ducked out of the way of the sword.

"Because you're still unwilling to attack." We circled each other, and, he was correct, I was still playing defense. "Maybe you want to lose, just like you – or whoever your master is - wanted me to find you in the lake, Angel."

Really? He went there? Disappointed that he would use that kind of reasoning, I did muster an attack at that point, with a series of spinning kicks that sent him backward. "First of all, I had no idea that you would be anywhere near there that night. All I wanted was a bath. You can confirm that one with Mai. And secondly," I scurried backward as he seemed to catch a second wind and braced myself for a blow to my sword that nearly unarmed me. "Stop calling me Angel. It's not my name, and you're clearly aware that I'm not one."

"Devil, then." He punctuated that with another strong hit that nearly numbed my hand.

"Better the only Devil than one of the thousand interchangeable angels." As soon as I said that out loud, I regretted giving him even that tiny bit of what had been in my head over the past couple of weeks. And I could tell by the way Shingen's mouth quirked up at the corner, that he filed that away like he filed away every bit of information he encountered. I had given him another weapon, should he choose to deploy it.

He clung to the advantage, driving me back toward the wall, and I needed to use all my strength to keep my sword and my balance. He swung toward me, and I dove under the sword, somersaulting away.

Neither of us spoke for a while, and the room was filled with the clack of the swords, the thuds of our feet against the floor and each other, the grunts of effort, and in the background, the pounding of that unending rain that had set all of this into motion in the first place.

He was breathing harder now, slowing a little, although he still put the same amount of strength behind his hits. He seemed to know where I was going to be, before I got there… right, because I was still playing defense. As long as I continued that strategy, I was never going to win, and so, the next time he swung at me, I ducked, pretended that I was going to pull back, and then at the last possible moment, attacked, using his momentum to knock him off his feet.

I had one split second of triumph, before those long arms grabbed hold of me and pulled me down with him. He grunted as my elbow landed in his gut, then he rolled, trapping me underneath him. He tossed his sword away and pinned my arms over my head.

We stared at each other; our faces so close they nearly touched. Although I had expected to lose, it seemed we were both surprised at the when and the how. In the sudden silence, the rain was a roar. The humid air clung to my skin.

"Yield." All the Barry White had been stripped from his voice. "Say it."

I said nothing, assessing whether I had any other moves left. That, and simply to be defiant. No matter what had brought it about, I had welcomed the fight and wanted to prolong it. I was apprehensive about what was next.

He stared down at me and repeated. "Yield."

"We both know I'm out of options." Stalling… technically not an option; definitely what I was doing.

"Two words. Two words from you that I can be assured are not lies." Those smoke eyes had darkened, and he hadn't moved at all from the moment he pinned me to the floor. "Say it."

I couldn't say it, because… it would have been a lie. I could yield the fight, but I would not yield myself. Instead, I bypassed the admission, and paid off part of the updated wager with a kiss.

The moment our lips touched; all the jumbled emotions of the day were transformed by some unexplainable alchemy into want. No – need. I needed his lips, his mouth, his tongue… To say this was only a kiss would be doing a disservice to this kiss, and yet, with his hands still locking mine to the floor, there was no exploration of bodies – it was only a kiss.

He took the kiss deeper, drowning me in the sensation of his tongue sweeping through my mouth, his teeth biting my lips. This was not like the seductive kiss from the lake or the teasing kisses from the inn. This was someone pushed past their barriers by anger, and though I was sorry for angering him, at least a tiny part of me couldn't regret the result of finding the authentic passion under the flirtatious exterior. Maybe it was anger, but it was real, and my body responded to it eagerly.

The incendiary look he had given me earlier was nothing compared to the heat that was building inside of me. I became convinced of the existence of spontaneous combustion. Tomorrow morning, the maids would come in and find a mysterious pile of ash on the floor, because everything had been dialed up to eleven.

Shingen broke away from the kiss. "You never said it." He slid his mouth down to my neck, pressing his lips to the base of my throat, then growled, "Say it," his breath hot against me.

I'd have been lucky to manage to say anything at all. Instead, it was I could do to take a large drink of air that ended in a moan as he sucked and licked the sensitive skin under my ear.

Letting go of one of my wrists, he undid my sash, so that both layers of my kimono fell open, revealing the leather binding I used to flatten my figure. "That looks uncomfortable." His fingers traced the cord that laced down the middle of it. "Would you like to be released?"

"Mmmphm," was all I could manage as my fingers tugged his hair.

He loosened the binding, pushing it down around my waist. Underneath the binding, I wore a sleeveless cotton shift to protect my skin from the stiffer leather. He pushed that away as well, baring my breasts. With the back of his finger, he lightly stroked them. "They're too lovely to be mistreated like so."

The gentle touch after the tight leather felt like balm to my sore skin – but had the opposite effect on my emotions – I wanted to cry… why, I didn't even know. His touch became more purposeful, arousing, and the need I had for him rushed to the surface. But I couldn't need anyone.

Lowering his head, he kissed one nipple, then the other, his tongue flicking each until they tightened, leaving me shaking with the sudden rush of emotion that engulfed my body, that combination of want and need and fear of letting go.

"What am I doing?" Shingen froze, then violently flung himself away from me.

We stared at each other. The only sound was our breathing and that unrelenting rain outside. "You're trembling."

Awareness gave way to embarrassment. I pulled my kimono shut with one, yes, trembling, hand, and swiped my hair out of my face with the other. I couldn't think of what to say. I didn't know if I was shaking out of want or shaking because I afraid of it.

"I've never forced myself on anyone," he said as he pushed himself to a sitting position. "If you're unwilling, if you don't want this, get out."

I wasn't unwilling but, Katsu and Katsuko were arguing inside my head. I didn't know which one of me I was with him anymore.

Not like this…

If I only get one night with him…

No, not like this…

It would make everything worse.

And yet, I would be willing because I cared for him. I cared for him as Katsu. I cared for him as Katsuko. After all this though, I doubted he would believe me. Or, worse, if he did believe me, he wouldn't welcome that knowledge. He would reject it.

Better to have him think I was unwilling.

And so, the biggest lie I had ever told him, I said with my feet when I got up and ran for the door. Before I turned my head away, I saw his expression of self-loathing before he buried his face in his hands.

Once again, I did what I do best. I ran.

It was only when I was back in my room, my mouth still tasting of his kiss, did I realize what that look on his face had meant. In protecting myself, I had caused a greater injury to him. I had made him believe I was afraid of him. I had made him believe he was capable of force.

If I had had a mirror, I was sure that that same look of self-loathing was on my face as well. The only difference was, I deserved to hate myself.

I should have stayed, at least tried to explain.

It was too late.