Anchor
Written by: RinoaDestiny
#45 – Golden Week (Day 4)
Salmon sizzled in the pan, skin and pink flesh browning, lending the morning air a wonderful smell. Next to it on the stove sat a small saucepan of homemade teriyaki sauce. Iori had awoken earlier than usual, checked his kitchen's ingredients and taken a quick trip to the supermarket. He had soy sauce and plenty of mirin, but needed sugar and sake. Being a whiskey drinker, sake had never been a top priority and he didn't often indulge in making sauces. Today, however, was special.
Flipping the salmon fillet so that the other side could fry, Iori quickly tended to the other items on the laid out breakfast trays. The miso soup was done and covered to retain heat, there were pickled vegetables on Kyo's tray (but not his), a bowl of rice each, and an empty spot on Kyo's tray for his salmon. Iori had prepared his first, not minding warm salmon, but knew Kyo would like his hot and crispy.
The glaze on the finished salmon was perfect insofar as he could tell and Iori returned to the stove, removing the fried fillet from the pan. Ladling some teriyaki sauce into the still hot pan, he gave it time to reach a boil and then put the fillet back. Usually, they'd have breakfast here; however, after yesterday's frenzy in the abandoned house, Kyo was likely going nowhere fast.
A flush warmed his cheeks. He was the prepared one – usually carried what was necessary – yet, hadn't accounted for the possibility of that happening. Now that he knew better (guessed violence, ironically, was foreplay for him), they wouldn't be unprepared in the future. Kyo was still asleep, probably not just from exhaustion. If he wanted, Iori would draw him a bath later and have additional painkillers ready. A hot tasty breakfast wouldn't hurt, either.
Kyo loved fish. It mightn't be the dish he preferred, but who could turn down teriyaki salmon? Even someone like him found it delicious.
Plating the fillet, now seasoned with a tempting glaze of sauce, Iori ladled a bit more on top of it and turned off the stove. As he put Kyo's portion onto his tray, Iori contemplated washing the dishes. Maybe later. The pan went into the sink, the sauce into an open container to cool, and a quick wipe down cleaned the surrounding area. Leaving the pans to soak, he picked up Kyo's tray and headed for the bedroom.
Kyo's snores greeted him; Iori smiled and put the tray on his desk.
Today, Kyo slept sloppily, sprawled upon the bed. Since it looked comfortable, Iori didn't disturb him. Kyo's hair fell across his face, giving him a boyish appearance. On the pillow were strands of red and brown, evidence of their time together so far this week. Leaving him to idle dreams, Iori returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes.
By the time he came back, maybe Kyo would be awake.
Hands covered in suds, Iori reviewed his mental checklist. He needed to wash their clothes by making a trip to the nearest laundromat. He also intended on getting back to their clan chronicles. If not for Akane's sake, then seeing what the Kusanagi records held. With the bitter differences between their clans, certain conflicts would be portrayed differently, slanted by each writer's biases. He knew this was definitely true for the Yasakani chronicles after their betrayal.
Fascinating, now that objective study was possible – no longer colored by animosity and hatred.
Besides the historical conflicts – his clan sat out on most of them, despite pressure from emperors and the government – their clans had clashed repeatedly, small battles alongside the major ones. Deaths of clan heads, sons and fathers, cousins and unfortunate retainers and sometimes, even the girls and women. The Yata clan had their hands full, keeping them from massacring each other.
There was a sound from the bedroom. After placing the pot in the drying rack, Iori fetched his tray and headed there.
"That smells great." Kyo was propped on his elbows, already near to the desk. "Teriyaki? You were up early?"
"Got my sleep," Iori said, pulling his chair out. "Will take care of our clothes later."
"Mmmffff," Kyo replied, mouth full of salmon. "Don't have to."
"Have to. After yesterday," Iori stressed, bringing a spoonful of soup to his lips. "How are you feeling?"
Kyo wriggled, as if testing his body's limitations. It reminded Iori of a live fish flopping on dry land, which was…hilariously ironic. "No regrets." Kyo gave him a cheeky smirk, which couldn't mask the slight discomfort behind it, and snapped a chunk of fish off with his chopsticks.
Iori picked up his rice bowl, pushing his soup bowl aside. "Take another painkiller."
"Don't need to."
"If you need it, it's in the bathroom."
"Nah. Told you – I'm fine."
Stubbornness was a shared trait between their clans. Letting Kyo have the last word, Iori finished his rice and dismantled his salmon. Waking up early gave him a ferocious morning appetite, allowing him to clear his dishes as quickly as Kyo. Popping the last of his fish into his mouth, Iori's focus shifted to laundry. He picked up his tray, mind preoccupied.
Kyo's voice broke in, wresting his attention back to him. "No morning kiss?"
It was said so earnestly that Iori leaned down and pecked him on the lips. "Now rest," he said, growling ever so slightly. "Take a break."
"You seem rushed. Going somewhere?"
"Laundry. Told you the clothes need washing." He paused by the door. "Want anything? Can stop by the convenience store." Most of the snacks Kyo brought were gone and with him being housebound, there wasn't much to do. Unlike him, Kyo got bored easily and couldn't be entertained by books or anything intellectually stimulating.
"No." With the tips of his chopsticks in his mouth, Kyo gave him the impression of a playful cat. "Gonna be gone long? Ain't gonna leave me here by myself all day, right?"
"Course not." He wasn't sure why he became defensive, because Kyo was joking. He had to be, right? "Maybe a few hours. I'll be back. You know I won't leave you." The last came out more forceful than he expected, surprising him and also Kyo, who blinked.
"Yagami, I'm kidding." The chopsticks were no longer in Kyo's mouth. "You know that, right?"
He should and he did, but that voice within his mind said otherwise. The prospect of leaving Kyo – even for a joke – was unthinkable. It was…it simply wasn't funny for him. After years of rivalry that went nowhere and somehow led to this moment in time, ditching Kyo would be another form of defeat. Probably the biggest one, proving Orochi right. Orochi always said he was right, making his life hell to reinforce the point.
He had no response and turned to leave. When he finally left the apartment, clothes in hand, it felt like the lowest of shameful retreats.
The clothes turned in the machine, around and around, as Iori waited. Away from the source of pressure and with ample time to think, he now felt stupid. Of course Kyo was joking – wasn't that what he always did? – so why did he assume otherwise? His stupidity spoiled a lighthearted moment and now Kyo was probably wondering what he'd done wrong. Like last time – like that time in Tokyo.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He chided himself, ashamed. Over and over the spin cycle turned, similar to the caustic voice in his mind. Of course he ruined things, because he couldn't help himself, could he? It was what he did automatically, being who he was. Being what he was – a member of an accursed clan, doomed to an early grave and forgotten.
Kyo cared and would remember, but once Kyo was gone…
He looked at his hands – violent and gentle, a contradiction – and shuddered. He had to return and face Kyo (would do so, unless he wanted to never go home); yet, what would he say? Sorry? He was wrong here, but he still struggled in saying certain words. Iori recalled his father's scolding, as if it happened yesterday and he wasn't now a grown man: "Never apologize, do you understand? I won't have my son showing weakness!" It was the main reason he never got the word out past his teeth. It wasn't the only reason, though.
Pride. Admitting to error, to a fault, to a flaw. But mostly pride.
The internal cycling of the machine stopped, emitting cheerful musical notes. Snapped out of his thoughts, Iori retrieved the damp clothes and fed coins to the closest available dryer. While the dryer did its work, he glanced around the laundromat. Two other people with bags sat close by, reading either a newspaper or something on their phone.
Ignoring them, Iori latched back onto his thoughts.
How to approach Kyo? I'm a moron and a dumbass and an idiot and I don't know how to…. Would that work? None of this would've happened if he hadn't doubted Kyo's intent – as if Kyo believed he'd ditch him, leaving him alone. He wouldn't and yet…
I really am a fucking moron.
A few minutes passed and then the dryer sang, the clothes now completely dry. Removing them, Iori folded and stuffed them into a clean bag, along with a small bottle of fabric detergent. While the soothing scent of the clothes calmed him, dread began building in his stomach. He, who had confronted Orochi and NESTS and taken down the bastards, was now anxious about facing Kyo.
Fucking coward. Maybe your old man was right about you.
The streets today weren't as crowded, people out of town on holiday. He passed some cyclists and other pedestrians. A cluster of teenagers loitered outside by a store, smoking. His throat itched watching them. A cigarette or two would help his nerves. Unfortunately, they were at home, for he'd run out too quickly and forgotten to grab a box.
He was closer to home now, having passed a convenience store and crosswalk. Squinting at the sun, Iori wished his stomach would settle. Even his palms had started sweating. Whatever it was Kyo was good at doing, it'd be nice to be able to do…whatever it was that seemed to elude him. It'd make life easier, less tangled in complications.
He'd always envied Kyo for cruising through life, an easy smile or grin ready and seemingly untroubled. None of those came readily to him – not when he'd been frowning most of his life.
Iori sighed and shifted the laundry bag on his shoulder. He'd been frowning less with Kyo around, though.
Arriving home, Iori slipped off his shoes and hesitated at the entranceway, listening for Kyo. There was no response from the bedroom. Had he gone back to sleep? Upon reaching the room, he found a worried Kyo looking at him while lying belly-down on the bed. His lover stretched out both arms, beckoning him.
Iori dropped the bag and went to him.
"Come here, you big lug," Kyo said, pulling him down. "It's done?"
Iori nodded.
"Wasn't serious, you know." Fingers in his hair. "Why'd you run?"
He didn't know what to say, so he shook his head. Felt Kyo's fingers still against his forehead, warm and gentle.
"What if you can't run?" Kyo asked, breath soft against his face. "Can't always run, Yagami."
It scared him, being cornered with no way out. "I can't fight everything, Kyo." People, he could fight. Enemies, he could kill. But anxiety regarding social situations, about misreading others – judging them incorrectly – and making a fool out of himself to Kyo was…it left him helpless. "What then?"
Silence. Kyo's bruises were purple, dark against tanned skin. His boyfriend looked down briefly, only to look back up and hold his gaze. A hand lowered, thumb brushing the abrasion near his mouth. "Maybe not everything's meant to be fought."
Coming from one of the most famous King of Fighters champions, the statement sounded ludicrous. "But we fight everything."
"I know. But maybe on some things, we shouldn't. Because we can't."
There was no way to throw a punch at anxiety or awkwardness. No way to shut up the voices and doubts in his mind through physical means. Iori took a deep breath and buried his face against Kyo's shoulder. Felt light pressure against the back of his head as Kyo's hand rested there. "I'm such a fucking idiot," he said, mouthing the words on warm skin. "Do nothing but cause trouble."
"It's nothing, Yagami. You're too used to growling at people or telling them to shut up and die. Don't worry – you'll get this, too."
He dipped his head, observing the shadows his hair made on the gold of Kyo's arm. "It's not that easy," he said, hearing the bitterness of his self-pity. He left unspoken that Kyo had it easier and always did.
"No, but that's why I'm here." Said without pride, just concern.
Iori looked up and met Kyo's gaze.
"Breakfast was good. The fish was perfect. Thank you."
Nestling against Kyo felt apt, warm cheek to warm shoulder. He could stay like this for a while and consider it time well-spent.
"You know…since I'm paying the price for our pleasure," Kyo said teasingly, breath stirring his hair, "what do you have planned for later? I can move, but I think I should take it easy."
"Was thinking about going through the records again. See when our clans fought and how it was described."
"Oh, that's easy. My clan wins. Yours sucks."
Iori laughed. It probably wasn't far from the truth. "Matters in how they say it, though. Do they downplay the conflict? Not mention a loss? Point out something significant?"
"You think they'd mention all that? Isn't that what historians are for?"
"We're small in the scheme of things." Kyo's breakfast tray was still on his desk; he'd remove it later. "Unless you're Ota Gyuichi chronicling Oda Nobunaga's rise towards hegemony, we don't count. Yes, we're Sacred Treasures and yes, we've sealed Orochi. But besides those, we don't contribute much to the nation or even international matters."
"Dunno. I'd say saving the world from Orochi counts."
"Maybe once every hundred years and it's so esoteric, no one else knows the details. 'Sides, you think historians really care? With all the other shit going on around here?"
Kyo shrugged. "They're missing out."
"Maybe so, but it doesn't matter to them."
"Well, my ass ain't going anywhere, so don't mind hearing some stories about my clan. And yours," his boyfriend hastily added. "Hell, we might even learn some new techniques."
"Strategies, maybe."
"Guess we'll find out. What about lunch?"
"Our reserve line tightened on high ground, a flame wall forming to repel the Yagami vanguard." Iori paused, trying to visualize what it would've looked like. "Yagami Kageyuki, the accursed commander of the enemy force predicted our movements, however, and sent half his forces around. They met our left flank like an ocean wave."
Behind him, Kyo wrinkled his nose against his neck. "Wait. Are they trying to reach them? Wouldn't the buffering wall prevent that?"
"It's on an open plain, so unless your ancestors turned the entire place into a Buddhist hell, there's probably untouched earth somewhere. Not sure how Kageyuki knew, but maybe he was gifted."
"So what happened?" Kyo's arms looped around his neck were the warmest comfort, better than a winter scarf.
Returning to the opened book on his lap, Iori continued where he'd left off. "Our strategy outwitted, we signaled for a change in plans, the drums resounding around us. Kageyuki charged straight for our right flank commander, Akihito. From where I stand, men, weapons, and flames became enmeshed in bloody fighting."
"So this guy from my clan was like an embedded journalist."
"Surprised you know that term, but yes. It's likely accurate, despite an obvious bias towards the Kusanagi side." Iori frowned, getting a clearer image in mind of how this battle fell out. "The Kusanagi left flank was endangered, so the right flank struck from behind. Sounds like Akihito targeted Kageyuki, so Kageyuki decided to return like for like."
"They knew each other?"
"Maybe."
"Who won?"
With the Kusanagi clan holding high ground and the Yagami forces being attacked from behind, the outcome wasn't favorable for his ancestors. He also needed to see if his clan records mentioned a Yagami Kageyuki shortly after the Kamakura shogunate collapsed. While a national power struggle ensued, their clans were fighting their own petty battles. "Kageyuki and his whittled forces managed to halve Akihito's numbers, but the Yagami commander was injured and called for retreat. Our men went in pursuit."
"Your clan lost."
"They'd need a miracle to win after yours got high ground and had an aggressive right flank." Iori read ahead, quickly skimming the text. "Looks like Kageyuki escaped with three soldiers. The record doesn't say, but they're probably his closest confidants."
"Everyone else was killed."
"Looks like it. And this wasn't the first or last time."
Kyo whistled behind him. "So Kageyuki probably shows up again later. Man, makes our fights look lame. Wonder what that was like – a massive wall of flame holding off an enemy army."
"You guys can probably replicate it. You have enough people."
"You think so?"
"Yeah."
Closing the volume, Iori reached for one of his clan's records set around the same time period. If they were already warring this early, then the Yagami clan chronicler also would have accounts to tell. Flipping through – checking the years and dates – Iori kept going until he found a small section dedicated to a similar conflict. "Much expectation had been placed on Kageyuki's eldest, trained to follow his father since birth." Iori winced, hoping Kageyuki had been a better father than his. "Young Kagemori, only seventeen, beat back the Kusanagi and upset their ambush. We must show the Kusanagi whose clan is stronger."
"Is there more?"
"No. I'd expect more gloating." The description was concise and direct. "Kagemori has younger siblings, though. Contingencies in case he falls. Wouldn't be surprised if they had infighting, perhaps once Kageyuki died."
"Wonder why it's so brief." Kyo reached out and touched the page, finger against elegant script. "Did something happen after this?"
Iori shrugged, wondering the same. "If it's bad enough, they mightn't write it down. Shameful, to admit internal clan strife."
"Huh. Like mine."
"Like all the clans back then," Iori said, perusing the middle part of the book. "We skipped out on helping the emperor reclaim power. Were too busy fighting you to care." It was the way how the Yagami clan operated, even to the present day. Just because the emperors from different periods, warlords from different prefectures, or generals from different military branches demanded, didn't mean they had to answer or grovel. The Yagami clan did neither, making powerful enemies along the way.
Only their abilities – their own cursed strength – kept those enemies at bay.
Kyo unwound his arms from around his neck, carefully sitting up. Earlier, Iori had prepared some cold soba with dipping sauce and chopped green onions, bringing everything in on another tray. It'd only been a few hours since breakfast and he wasn't hungry yet, but with Kyo making a move on the food, Iori joined him. Taking his own bowl with dipping sauce, he sprinkled in some green onions and helped himself to some of the soba.
"This is good," Kyo said through a mouthful of noodles.
Nodding, Iori reached for more, dipping them in the delicate sauce. He had plenty in stock for when summer hit, although ice-cold somen would be preferable by then. Instead of shoveling the food down, he took his time. The light saltiness of the sauce, combined with the green onions and smooth texture of the noodles was delicious. Somehow, his appetite was back, as though awakened by being within Kyo's ravenous proximity.
Compared to him, Kyo had worked his way through half the soba. Iori lowered his head, hiding a smile and poured more sauce into his bowl.
"So your clan," Kyo said, leaning forward with chopsticks outstretched, "didn't help the emperor. Didn't that get them into trouble?"
"Possibly." It was impossible to imagine the emperor would let that slide unpunished, unless it meant being faced with lethal opposition. "But we're stubborn and insular. Didn't like getting involved with imperial business."
"The emperor could've forced their hand."
"And get on their bad side?" The noodles in his bowl gleamed, freshly dipped. "Even as the divine emperor, I doubt you'd want to face the keepers of the sacred magatama at their full force and angry."
"Imperial capital goes up in flames."
"Yeah. Start another civil war. That'll be smart," Iori said sarcastically. "While being in one yourself."
"I think we sent people. I think." His lover chewed his food. "Maybe it'll say it somewhere in one of those." Kyo pointed his chopsticks at the stack of books on the other end of the desk, one of the habits he'd picked up from him. "We can check."
"Let's finish this first." There wasn't much left of lunch and he wanted to wash all the dishes before getting back to the records. "Want the rest?"
"You can have it."
Given the go-ahead, Iori finished the remainder quickly, drank the sauce in his bowl, and gathered all the dishes together. Kyo made a movement, as though to follow him, but Iori shook his head. "Won't take long," he told him and meant it. The ceramic bowls were a quick wash and rinse, the chopsticks took a few seconds, and the bamboo platter joined the others in the drying rack. Taking extra time to thoroughly cleanse and dry his hands, he rejoined Kyo in the bedroom.
"New personal record," Kyo joked, expression brightening as Iori grabbed two volumes and sat on the bed with him. "How can you ever leave me when you're like this?"
His boyfriend's levity removed any sting from the comment. Iori didn't reply, not trusting himself and opened one of the volumes. It was from the Kusanagi chronicles, set around the same period as the Yagami record he had earlier, which must contain some reference to the emperor. If his clan scrupulously mentioned lack of assistance to the imperial cause, then the Kusanagi wouldn't be remiss from their end. It all depended, of course, on how they phrased it.
Kyo leaned on him, solid muscle against the softness of his shirt. "Find anything?"
Either the Kusanagi were careful – written words betrayed inner thoughts – or he was in the wrong section of the book. "If we made our feelings plain, your clan would've done the opposite to not incur the emperor's displeasure." It had to be around here somewhere, couched in politic language or hidden in some anecdote only privy to those who understood the incident.
"How early did your clan start resisting the emperors' demands?"
"Early. We did it even when we were Yasakani," Iori said, flipping through a few more pages after a quick read divulged nothing. "Contrary to what our clans believe today, the Yasakani never liked encouraging other's bloodlusts."
"Or giving others power."
"Until we grabbed our own, joining with Orochi, and starting this whole thing." He wished he knew how it all began besides the murder of the headman's wife and her body being found on Kusanagi land. There had to be more, but it was probably lost to history. "Even after, we resisted. We weren't game pieces on anyone's board."
"Except for the game being played between our clans."
"The unending go game of the centuries." Until now, he and Kyo finally putting a stop to the ridiculousness of it all. "And this should be around the right time period," he said, continuing to check the columns of script. "This predates the Yasakani renaming themselves to Yagami."
"What about the other book?"
"Should be after my clan turned traitor."
"Maybe that'll have it. My clan would've wanted to set themselves apart from yours quickly. Loyalty to the emperor would've been important."
If there was something Iori had learned about Kyo, it was that Kyo's cleverness lay not with books or academics. Kyo had a way of parsing information differently from him, often leading to conclusions that led to the correct path. Trusting his instincts and Kyo's, he reached for the second volume and went through it. Halfway, after mention of another minor battle with few casualties, he found what he was looking for.
"Since our enemy, the Yagami clan has decided, in their limited wisdom," Iori read, finding the slight superbly phrased, "to reject all loyalty to the divine emperor's calls for aid, let it be known that we will answer the call. From this day forth, the Kusanagi clan will lend all manner of assistance – men, horses, funds, and anything else necessary – to the imperial household. Anyone standing against this is free to leave the clan and go elsewhere."
"Damn, that's harsh."
"And yet, the emperor lost the throne." Iori remembered through his classical studies that the Ashikaga gained power soon after. "Wonder if your clan made it through okay."
"Did they?"
Fortunately, the record was detailed regarding the aftermath. "Our men were beaten back with heavy losses. Those able to escape, we have hidden. We have pledged loyalty to the imperial family, yet until this settles, we will bide our time. Wisdom also lies upon correct judgment, which we…" Feeling Kyo's gaze, Iori turned to him. "What?"
"You sound sexy."
"I'm reading," Iori deadpanned, aware of the effect his low timbre had.
"Yeah, and you sound sexy." Kyo wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. "Never thought hearing my clan history would be so…"
"Not trying to seduce you with your own chronicles," Iori said, amused and somewhat baffled. "How will you explain that to your old man?"
"He thinks you'll make a great teacher."
"If you let me teach." Iori smirked. "Wasn't yesterday enough?"
"Not my fault you're –"
He nudged Kyo gently with the spine of the book, careful of the pages. "If I'd known you'd be a sex fiend –"
"Hey!"
"Explain your raging libido, Kyo. You'll exhaust me before the week's over."
"You're not exhausted now!"
"'Cause I'm relaxing with you and reading. Want me to continue?" Iori raised the book slightly, thumb bookmarking his place in it. "Might be interesting."
"Oh fine."
Iori smiled at Kyo's petulant tone. "Wisdom also lies upon correct judgment, which we will use unlike our sworn enemy." The phrasing brought to mind an earlier passage, which Iori found, running his finger down alongside the relevant characters. "Look how they contrasted my clan to yours. 'Limited wisdom' and 'Wisdom also lies upon correct judgment,' meaning the Yagami clan's judgment is faulty."
Kyo's hand was warm against his side. "Don't think going over to Orochi helped."
"And we're still paying for it," Iori said, turning another page and reading further. "Can't disagree with your ancestors. Mine's messed it up for the rest of us."
"But you're still here."
"For now." It was never far from his mind about his short lifespan. "If I leave you, it won't be because I want to."
"You won't leave me. You have time." Kyo's voice caught, drawing his attention away from the Kusanagi chronicle. "And I won't leave you, unless it's out of my control."
He tried to smile, yet found it difficult. "So we're the same."
"Guess so."
Book forgotten, Iori reached out and drew Kyo nearer, red and brown mingling as their foreheads touched. "You're Kyo Kusanagi. You have no blood curse. You'll live a long life."
"Without you?"
Iori smiled this time, but there was pain behind it. "We're only three months in. Anything can happen."
"Anything can shove it." Kyo's expression was serious, dark eyes studying him. "You're Iori Yagami. You have great willpower. You'll live longer than you expect."
"There's no guarantee," Iori said, voice dropping lower.
"There never is, but you've never quit."
"Neither have you."
"So we're the same," Kyo said, echoing his previous remark. "We'll be okay."
It was everything Iori wished for – everything he'd ever desired – and yet, every time caution prevailed. Caution and the urgent need for pessimism, because nothing lasted long around him. Relationships ended and he, too, would be gone, leaving Kyo behind one day. Gazing at Kyo from behind his hair, he let his absence of sound say everything he couldn't.
A gentle touch, callused fingers resting on the back of his hand. "Yagami." Mellow voice like sunlight, soft and golden instead of fierce and brazen. "Can you read some more? Maybe one from your clan?"
The book under his palm was cloth and paper, thread and ink. "I can do that, Kyo. Whatever you want."
Notes: Ota Gyuichi is known in history as the official chronicler of Oda Nobunaga's life. After Nobunaga's assassination, he also wrote a chronicle for Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the winner of the succession war between him and Shibata Katsuie (another high-ranking Oda retainer). I found out about Ota Gyuichi after coming across a Japanese movie "Nobunaga no Hitsugi" online. It gets hammy sometimes, but is decently fun to watch and has some interesting theories on who really assassinated Nobunaga (might not only be Akechi Mitsuhide).