Chapter Twenty-Seven – Shingen's POV - Shelter

It had been too late even before they started terracing the hills and trying to divert the waters into overflow ponds. A project like this ought to have begun months, perhaps years before the flooding, not in the middle of a deluge. Shingen thought this might even be the biggest sin to lay at Nobunaga's feet, for in diverting their attention to battle, needed projects such as this had been postponed, or ignored.

Even knowing that it was a futile effort, they were giving it everything they had to at least redirect some of the water before it reached the river. Sasuke, at least, had instantly grasped what Shingen had in mind, and scurried from one post to another, giving practical suggestions without having to ask for further instructions.

But after working through the wet, miserable night, and into the next afternoon, with the rain continuing to fall, there was that feeling that… it wasn't going to be enough. Homes would be lost. Lives maybe, too. The specter of failure pulled at him. Another project potentially left undone.

He shut his eyes to the raging waters, while the rain poured off his helmet and dripped down the back of his neck.

When he reopened them, she was standing in front of him, looking, as usual, like a drowned rat. Angel or devil, he didn't even know any longer. But what was she – easier to just ask. "Why are you here?"

Katsu, because in those clothes, with that mirage of soldierly decorum, it was Katsu, and not duplicitous woman he had revealed himself to be, said, "Yukimura asked me to deliver a status report and a message."

I don't have time for this. "Well? What is it?"

Since Katsu seemed unusually reticent, Shingen glanced over his shoulder. "Sasuke! Tell them to bring more rocks to shore up that retaining wall!" Sasuke gave a salute to indicate message received and headed further up hill. Shingen turned his attention back to Katsu.

"Kenshin's got the banks of the lowest point of the river built up about this high, and we've evacuated all of the towns up to the coast." She drew an invisible line right about at her waist. That's not going to be high enough. Time was running out, on this, on him.

But she was still talking. "Yukimura said … that you should return to the castle and have Sasuke take a shift."

Had he? What had he told her? Was that why she was here? Because now she knew about his illness? He studied her face. No, there was no sympathy or knowledge in that expression. She was here because Yukimura told her to be here. Just following orders. For once. "Message delivered. Tell Yuki no."

She continued to stand there, and again he wondered why she was still … well, with them at all. Once her masquerade had been revealed, she ought to have left. Yoshimoto had told him that he'd managed to prevent her – at least temporarily - from leaving on what would amount to a suicide mission to confront Yoshiaki. But even that didn't explain why she had joined the teams outside. Though if she had been telling the truth about losing her home in a storm – and that was a big if – then he supposed she would feel strongly about helping those in a similar situation. "Anything else?"

"Um. N-no. It's… j-just that Yukimura was pretty insistent that I make you leave, which, I know I have no way of doing, but I've never seen him look that worried about anything," she sounded a lot more hesitant than normal. "I guess if you're not going to leave, can you at least go inside that tent over there and eat something, so I can at least tell him you're not … pushing yourself."

Yuki was worried – worried enough to send Katsu all the way up here. Shingen wasn't going to leave, couldn't leave in the middle of this project, but he could at least send back some reassurance. "Tell him this is worth the risk. And not to worry. I'm doing fine." For now. He was doing fine for now.

She nodded and turned around without saying goodbye, slowly making her way down the muddy path toward the river. If all that had happened over the past couple of days, well, if it hadn't happened, he would have been happy to see Katsu, might have taken a moment to show him what they were doing here. Actually, if things had been different, Katsu would have been with him up here from the start. But everything was different now.

His friend Katsu didn't exist.

Because it had been Yuki who asked him, via Katsuko, not to push himself, Shingen decided to follow the suggestion and grab a few morsels to eat. He'd only just picked up a bowl of now-cold rice, when Sasuke appeared at his elbow, slipping into his vicinity in that silent way he had.

Something was slightly off about Kenshin's ninja though. Shingen couldn't pinpoint it exactly. Was it that his clothes seemed cleaner than earlier? He put that odd thought out of his mind, when Sasuke spoke. "A little boy just fell into the river."

"Where? How close are we?" Was there time to get a rope? Unlikely. He dropped the bowl, not caring that is splattered on the ground, and rushed after Sasuke.

Sasuke pointed. "There… downriver – Katsuko ran after him."

Once again, he felt that fist around his heart tighten as he ran for his horse. "Can she swim?"

He looked back over his shoulder, but the ninja had vanished.

Of course, he couldn't have expected her to keep her promise not to take any insane, stupid risks. She could likely toss off false promises as easily as the lies that were a second nature to her.

By the time he was on his horse, galloping along the riverbank, there was no sight of either Katsuko or a child in the water. Across the raging waters, a group frantic people were running alongside the river – the boy's family, he assumed.

They were pointing – finally, he located the boy, floundering in the water. But where was Katsuko? Had she gone in after him? Had she-?

As he rounded a bend, he saw her up ahead, hanging half upside down from a tree that stretched out over the river. Even as he fathomed her plan; recognized its merit, there was a part of him that wanted to drag her down from the tree, pull her to safety.

All he could do was hold his breath, watching as his daredevil messenger dangled over the river, one arm reaching toward the child who in moments would pass underneath.

Katsuko snagged the back of the boy's clothing, while he reached up and clung to her arm. Shingen hurried toward them, prepared to help pull the boy to shore if she didn't have the strength to lift him into the tree.

CRACK.

He would be replaying the image of Katsuko, no, it was Katsu, falling into the river for the rest of his life. He might lose them both – the mischievous forest sprite who played kiss-and-run, and the puzzle-loving messenger who he'd looked forward to seeing every afternoon.

Even while his mind was reeling, his body already had urged his horse into a gallop, flying along the riverbank, as he kept them in sight, feeling that clench of panic every time her head disappeared under water.

She'd kept her grip on the branch though, and the boy – good girl. Admiration for her determination broke through the fear. Yes, that's it… keep your head up. As they continued to gallop along the riverside, his brain flipped into tactics, as he analyzed the current, assessing where the water was most likely to send them. Up ahead, the river channel widened, which would lessen the rapids, somewhat, but hopefully still be shallow enough for his horse to cross.

Without hesitation, his well-trained horse entered the river at his signal, and at least at first, seeming to find a foothold on the bottom. But the further toward the center he got, the less steady his horse was.

He'd gotten used to measuring out the remainder of his life in months – was that measurement going to be down to heartbeats?

Fortunately, his horse had found his footing again, and he pressed forward, aiming for a place that would intercept their progress. Then Katsu was slammed into a boulder, ricocheting them almost out of reach… but…

He had them. He had her. She looked at him, seeming dazed – had she hit her head on that rock? – before blinking the water out of her eyes, and pushing the boy into his arms while she climbed onto his horse. I have you.

They weren't nearly out of danger, but at least Katsu and the boy weren't being flung about in the rapids. Worried that he was asking too much of his horse, especially when once again, he faltered, he climbed off, hoping to help lead him to the bank. "Hold on," he told Katsu. Would she listen? He sensed, rather than saw her make a move to help. "If you get off this horse, I will drown you myself."

Muttering under his breath, every obscenity he knew, in random order, he guided his horse toward the closest bank. Even after he sensed the moment his horse once again was able to touch the bottom of the river, he didn't relax until they were all safely out of the water.

And then it was simply enough to stand there and gaze at where they had all been. They were out of the water, but in front of his eyes was the image of Katsuko tossed about in the rapids, being slammed against the rocks, tangled up in the debris. He looked over at her, just to confirm that yes, she was there. She too was staring at the water. He wondered if she realized she was still hanging onto the little boy as if his life was still in danger.

"Hiko!"

An older man – presumably the boy's father rushed up. He grabbed his son, alternately hugging then yelling – and Shingen related to every change of mood. "Thank you for saving my only son. Hiko is a careless whelp, but he would be missed."

"No thanks are needed," Shingen said. He ruffled the boy's wet hair.

"Be that as it may, I am grateful," the man said. He looked over his shoulder at where the rest of the family group was making their way along the riverbank. "I would have been left with five useless daughters."

He didn't have to see Katsuko's face to know how she felt about that, and even before she took a step forward, Shingen prepared to haul her back to his side. He placed a warning hand on her shoulder. Immediately she stiffened. Did she still fear his touch?

Annoyed, he turned his attention back to Hiko's father. "I've found a multitude of uses for them," Shingen said. "But I'm glad we were able to be of service to you."

The boy's mother scurried up with a blanket and wrapped her son up in it. Before rejoining his family, he turned and hugged Katsuko. He imagined that being in the river together had been somewhat of a bonding experience – and if he were being completely honest, he wasn't sure if the boy would have survived without her. Shingen likely would not have gotten to him in time, were it not for Katsuko keeping Hiko's head above water. But even that honesty couldn't overcome the fear and anger that still coursed through him.

"I cannot repay you, but, would you like to have one of my daughters?" The man gestured to where five girls were lined up. "Sho," he said, and the tallest girl stepped forward. She gave him a shy smile.

She was a pretty child, but possibly young enough to be his daughter. He smiled at her, and tried to be kind about the rejection. "I couldn't separate you from your family, Princess." Then he addressed her father. "You do me honor, but I am not in any position to add to my household."

The man bowed, then went to his wagon, and returned with a couple sea otter pelts and a sack of something that clinked. "Please accept these as a token of my gratitude."

Shingen nodded, and stowed the gifts in his saddlebags.

The family all bowed and headed back up river.

Katsuko looked at him warily, and it was on the tip of his tongue to give her a lecture that she would never forget, but on the heels of that thought was the memory of her falling into the river, and before he could think better of it, he'd pulled her into his arms. Simply to confirm that she was real and alive and here and … ahhh… not wearing that binding she normally wore around her breasts when she dressed as a boy.

He stepped back quickly and didn't miss that flinch she gave when he gripped her shoulders. "Didn't you promise never to do something that dangerous again?"

"I did not!" She gave him a calm and steady glare. "I said I couldn't promise that. I might be a liar, but I don't make promises that I don't intend to keep." She yanked herself out of reach.

Does she think I'm going to strangle her? He was tempted to do all sorts of things, but of course he could control those impulses.

Meanwhile, she continued to protest. "What I said was that I would consult you if feasible. It was not feasible."

That… was likely the correct assessment of the situation, but that didn't lessen the anger he felt. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if Sasuke hadn't gotten my attention in time?"

"Yes." The look she gave him was easily translatable. "But, if the tree branch hadn't broken, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Did she not remember they had fought about this before? More likely she remembered but hoped he didn't. "The hell we wouldn't. Just because you survived, doesn't mean it wasn't a stupid, reckless thing to do!" Again, some part of him recognized that her actions had likely saved the boy's life, but he couldn't stop himself from yelling.

"I didn't have much time to think-"

"That, is obvious-"

"What else was I supposed to do? Let the boy drown?"

No… that was not in her nature. If he were honest with himself, if this had been almost anyone else standing in front of him, he would have admired them for it. Maybe she was a liar, but whatever was in her dubious moral code wouldn't allow her to stand back when lives were at stake.

His horse meanwhile, apparently had had enough of both of them, and chose that moment to try and shake off the river. Right. They couldn't stay here all night. "Come on. We'll need to find shelter before we lose daylight."

Not bothering to check whether or not Katsuko was following, he mounted his horse. He didn't notice he was holding his breath until he felt her climb on behind him. At least she was willing to let him take the lead in finding shelter. That relief had him prod his horse forward sooner than he'd intended, and Katsuko let out a little, "eep" as she hurried to wrap her arms around his waist. Possibly the only time she'd ever rushed to grab him.

He doubted they would find any structures in the area, but the hills were riddled with caves; it was only a matter of finding one large enough to shelter them. Hopefully before the sunset – otherwise, they'd have to build something out of branches. Either way, an uncomfortable night loomed ahead of them.

Katsuko's grip on him slackened – was she falling asleep? He reached to take her hand, and he sensed her startling into awareness again. The near-drowning must be catching up to her. If she's that exhausted, she ought to be in front … better to ensure she didn't fall off. It was unlikely that she would accept if he made that suggestion, so he simply did his best to wake her up every time he sensed her dozing off.

Finally, he found a likely cave set back in the hills and pulled his horse to a stop. "This will have to do," he said.

Katsuko shook herself awake, and peered around him. He could feel her actually shudder when she saw his idea of a shelter. "Th-that's a c-cave," she said.

Was she still afraid to be alone with him? The implication was insulting. "Don't worry, I'm not going to take the opportunity to push my unwanted attentions on you again." He wouldn't have pushed them to begin with, if he'd had any idea they were not welcome. Usually, they were quite welcome, if not invited. In fact, often, they were encouraged.

Not wanting to even look at her at this point, he busied himself with finding the driest possible place to settle his horse, built him a bit of a rain-break out of branches, then walked past her into the cave. "Coming?" If she didn't follow him inside, he would literally carry her in there – whatever her feelings were toward him was no reason to spend the night sitting in the rain.

After a moment of hesitation, he heard her footsteps patter in. She halted again, right by the mouth of the cave. "Do you have a lantern?"

"I was more concerned with catching up to you, than I was with grabbing a lantern." He did have the saddlebags, though, and hopefully, between the leather of the bags and the oilskin wrappings, his clothes would be… they were damp in places. But not soaked. "The slightly good news is that I had yet to unpack my saddlebags, so at least I've got a change of clothing. Not completely dry, more's the pity, but the oilskin protected them to an extent."

He wrapped a layer of his kimono in one of the pelts. "Get out of those wet things." He tossed the bundle toward the direction of her voice.

The faint light from the mouth of the cave was just enough to outline her body, but her features were in shadow. He doubted that she could see him at all. Even so, he made sure to look away from her, as he changed into dry – drier – clothes. Hopefully, although he doubted he would be that lucky, he wouldn't get sick, or if he did, that the worst of it would hold off until he could be back in Kasugayama.

Once drier, he took stock of their provisions. He always kept a packet of rice cakes in his saddlebags – not that there was any danger of starvation, but they ought to eat. "If you can manage to bring yourself closer to me, I've found some field rations of dried rice." What else – what had the trader given them? He rooted through the sack, found a couple of bottles. He opened one and took a tentative sip. "And the trader gave us some sake."

The stilted reply came from the front of the cave – apparently she'd parked herself as far as possible from him. "No thank you."

"Suit yourself." More for him then. He took a quick bite, got some petty satisfaction at the echo of the crunch.

At some point, they needed to have it out, clear whatever misconceptions and lies still stood between them, this discomfort was becoming unbearable, but he didn't have the energy to take that on. He would still have to keep a distant eye on her at Kasugayama until they could prove to her that going after Yoshiaki was unnecessary. Say what you will about Nobunaga – and Shingen had said plenty – he would deal with that problem himself.

Hopefully, by the time she moved on to whatever life she chose for herself, they'd at least part if not as friends, but with a better knowledge of who they were, and who they weren't.

Once she left, he could always have his mitsumono keep track of her, simply to assure himself that she was alive and safe. He'd like to know that, and, well, in a few months that would no longer be an issue. Maybe she'd find her way to someone who could keep her daredevil impulses in check, keep her safe. Someone who would appreciate the way she threw herself into investigating puzzles, who would recognize her latent talent for strategy– perhaps he really should send her to work for Mitsuhide. Let the two of them drive each other crazy. She'd probably prove enough of a distraction for Nobunaga's spymaster to keep him out of Kenshin's hair for a while. It was a rather elegant solution… and he hated it.

He looked toward the entry to the cave, but it was now pitch black. He could no longer see Katsuko, but he could hear her breathing… and…

Something's not right.

He'd certainly spent enough time laboring to breathe, to recognize when someone else was struggling. Struggling with what, though? "Katsu? Is something wrong?"

Her breath choked off with a sharp intake – the sound of someone trying to pretend that everything was fine. He knew that sound too. He'd performed that masquerade. Katsuko was terrified. Maybe of him. But more likely, he'd been mistaken …about many things.

He stood up. Keeping one hand over his head to make sure he didn't accidentally walk into the low hanging ceiling of the cave – the last thing he needed on top of everything else was a concussion- he hugged the wall as he made his way back to where he believed Katsuko was sitting. "You're really not ok, are you?"

She reached out and took his hand. Some of the tension he'd been holding uncoiled at the feeling of that hand in his. There was trust in that hand. She needed him. "N-n-no."

He slid down the wall to sit next to her – she was curled up, her face on her knees. He'd seen this before – sometimes in battle. Sometimes after, when soldiers could not erase the scenes of battle from their mind. "I'm here." The battle, whatever it was, was in her mind. There wasn't much he could do, but he could be here. To give her something else to latch onto besides her thoughts, he started talking, a half nonsense, half-truth story about the orphaned bear cub he had adopted and a day that it had gotten into Kenshin's stash of pickled plums.

He put his arm around her shoulders and felt her relax slightly. He remembered the horror in her voice when she saw the cave – was it the cave, or the dark? She'd asked for a lantern. And yet, it had been fairly dark at the lake, and she'd had no trouble blowing out the candle in the Inn. He'd walked into Katsu's room once at night, and there hadn't been a candle or lantern left burning.

Not the dark. The cave itself?

A fragment of memory from the night he'd tried to forget presented itself. He'd been too mad at her at the time to take it in, but he'd heard everything…

"Was the opportunity too great to pass up when you tried to kill me before?"

"I tried to kill you a few times… can you be more specific?"

"Box."

"Oh, the crate. That one I just left up to fate whether or not you survived. If Motonari had let you out before you died of thirst, I imagine he'd have found some use for you. It didn't matter to me as long as you were gone."

The vassal, Iekane, also from Katsuko's past – he'd locked her in a crate, apparently loaded her on a ship? A Mouri ship? How long had she been shut in there? An experience like that – yes, that could leave a person with a fear of dark closed in places. The idea of his daredevil forest sprite locked inside a…

His?

Yes. She had followed him home, and he was keeping her.

His.

For as long as he was able, he was keeping her.

His.

Katsuko sighed and melted against him. "You probably think I'm crazy."

He didn't. Everyone was afraid of something. He attempted to lighten the mood. "Aside from your habit of flinging yourself out of trees, Devil, no." He brushed his fingers through her still-damp hair, resisting the urge to cup her face, and seal her lips with a kiss. Not the right time.

But hopefully, soon.