When faced with a wretched task like this, Yukimura preferred to count his blessings. He had a spade. It was a big, sturdy spade, and it would not break under the strain of shoveling tottering piles of manure all day long - a perverse mockery of the fact that he did not have to clean up after himself the previous night. Chikamitsu was clearly unused to horse care and chose to watch him unobtrusively from a distance. Fortunately the horses themselves were polite beasts that showed no inclination to kick or bite the stranger in their midst; though there were another ten or so stalls left to muck out and maybe Yukimura had just been lucky so far. Best of all, old Aki, the chestnut horse that had borne him all the way to Echigo without complaint, was somewhere among them.

Yukimura shut the gate of the stall he had just cleaned and peered into the next one, hoping that he would finally have the chance to check on Aki. What he saw made him blink in slight confusion. In the dimness within was a horse so unnaturally pale that it looked like someone had simply placed a white silhouette against a painting of an empty stall. Most white horses still bore dark hairs in their manes or tails, or had dark skin around their eyes and mouth, but this one was as blindingly white as freshly fallen snow. It was a freakishly large male too, and stood a head taller than the other stallions. He'd seen this unearthly animal before back at Kawanakajima, bearing the equally mythical Uesugi Kenshin into battle. Piercing blue eyes turned to regard his approach, and Yukimura pushed open the gate of its stall with some trepidation mixed with mesmerized awe.

Then, as if it immediately understood the purpose of his visit, the magical steed swished its silken tail and deposited a fresh, steaming pile of dung on the floor. The former Takeda cavalier groaned, rolled his eyes and got down to work.

For the next couple of hours he toiled without rest. Aki seemed to be well-cared for and nickered in recognition when he arrived, but Yukimura's mind was on the white stallion. It seemed inconceivable that the same animal could have survived all of Kenshin's violent confrontations and outlived him; particularly since its color would have made it a very visible target. He would have to ask Kanetsugu about it later; but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Yukimura remembered that he had to avoid the man as well. So he banished all thoughts of the mysterious horse until Chikamitsu finally summoned him indoors for lunch. Gratefully he stretched his aching back and entered the cool shadows of the main keep. Inside, Kanetsugu was already waiting.

"Hello Chikamitsu! I see you've brought Yukimura to tend to our horses today," he commented with a scrowl. The smell of horses and hay clung to Yukimura, readily identifying his whereabouts for the morning.

"Yes my lord," Chikamitsu replied. "The senior stable manager sprained his back in a fall last week."

"So I heard. Yukimura is highly qualified to deal with horses and should be put to work as such. It's not every day that we get a real, live Takeda cavalier to offer his expertise…"

Yukimura simmered but remained silent. He certainly knew how to care for horses and was responsible for his own mount during campaigns; and also expected this sort of treatment from Chikamitsu. But the mention of the destroyed cavalry unit brought unpleasant memories of Nagashino to the surface, and Kanetsugu's easy acceptance of this situation left him feeling somewhat betrayed after the warm welcome of the previous night.

Once Yukimura turned away, Kanetsugu gritted his teeth. It felt dishonorable to speak to Yukimura like that, but his reaction allowed him to confirm that Yukimura had quickly learnt to expect only kindness from him; which was a good thing. Never again would he have to openly condone the thinly-disguised slavery. Still, he needed to take Chikamitsu's feelings into consideration and proceed with tact. While Yukimura and Chikamitsu awaited their meal, he slipped upstairs to see Ichirou in his office. He now had a proposal to put forth.

Ichirou sat with his chin in one hand. The other hand toyed with several polished agate pebbles in a bowl of water. Judging from his pained expression, the castellan was also suffering from the effects of excessive drinking; and was assiduously avoiding his paperwork as a result. As soon as Kanetsugu entered the room, he swiftly withdrew his hand and dried it in his lap. The strategist pretended not to notice and advanced on him with a merciless grin.

"Ichirou, I'd like to request that we put a new, temporary stable manager on the payroll…"

Yukimura accepted the sudden promotion with considerably more calm than Chikamitsu. The salary was not exorbitant; but given that he was already housed and fed at Uesugi expense, the funds would accumulate untapped. More importantly, it allowed him to retain a shred of dignity as a paid employee as opposed to being solely a captive. This good news was offset by the realization that in making him do this, Kanetsugu was clearly intending to keep him here for as long as possible. And now, Kanetsugu also had the excuse to upgrade his accommodations to a room in the same corridor as his own, in the name of 'good employee relations'. He also had the excuse to 'inspect his work'.

The smart bastard.

With wages in hand, Yukimura was now also honor-bound to perform his job to the best of his ability. Two weeks had passed since Kanetsugu triumphantly announced his new appointment, and Yukimura had time to prepare several possible conversational ruses to distract the other man's affections once he inevitably found himself on the receiving end. He reserved his genuine curiosity over the white horse for just such an encounter.

But for the third time today, he found himself drawn to leaning against the gate of its stall and watching it quizzically. Discreet queries had revealed the strange fact that Kayaku, as he was named, was not owned or ridden by any one person in particular; indeed it was treated as just one of many horses that came under the common management of Kasugayama Castle. Yukimura elected to spend more of his free time with Aki, which was warmly affectionate towards him; while the white horse remained well-mannered but aloof. He longed to ride the stocky chestnut beyond the castle walls and today even galloped around the paddock, bareback, with his shovel in hand, imagining for just one evening that he was charging into battle with his cross-spear. But when the sun set and he returned the tired creature to its stall, Yukimura drifted back into melancholy and mourning for the warrior's life he had lost. Aki was not even battle-trained.

He had made several sincere attempts to befriend the other stable workers. Unfortunately, word had gotten around the castle since his arrival and they were fearful of the powerful former enemy in their midst; not to mention disdainful of his status as an overglorified prisoner. Time spent with them was wasted on nervous silence. Yukimura had to be content with keeping his own company.

Now he plodded in the direction of the toolshed. The long-handled manure shovel had to be returned, but he found himself stopping to twirl it absentmindedly, swinging its broad head in circles like a lethal weapon. With his skills, it would probably count as such, but he could play with it for a while as Chikamitsu had become resigned to simply checking on him at regular intervals instead of following him constantly; allowing him some measure of privacy. He made several mock slashes and thrusts at the foundations of the shed. After sweeping the shovel in a horizontal arc before him, Yukimura brought it behind his back and spun it vertically; well-honed reflexes compensating for the tool's awkward balance and shorter length. A forward thrust on the right was quickly followed by a rising diagonal slash. Then with the speed of a lunging viper, he leapt forward and slammed the edge of the shovel several inches into the hard-packed dirt of the toolshed floor. It remained stuck there; and for the first time in weeks, Yukimura smiled in self-satisfaction.

"Please remove that filthy implement from the ground and return it where it belongs."

Yukimura spun around. Suda Chikamitsu eyed him dispassionately at a safe distance. Had he really been practicing for so long that he'd lost track of time? He'd let dusk creep up on him, fooled by the warm glow of the castle's many lamps. It was definitely past the time that Chikamitsu would have expected him indoors. Hurriedly Yukimura stashed the shovel and emerged from the shed, apologizing profusely. But the Uesugi retainer would have none of it. The moment he stood up from a bow, Chikamitsu slugged him in the head.

It wasn't a terribly hard blow. Chikamitsu was old and had not fought or trained in decades, and Yukimura staggered back a couple of steps in surprise rather than due to the force behind it. But his answering grunt of pain served to awaken many years of pent up outrage in the older man; and before he could recover, Chikamitsu began to pummel him with gleeful impunity. Dozens more punches and kicks battered Yukimura's face and unarmored body. Corporal punishment used to be meted out on lazy, incompetent servants in the retainer's former household; and while heavily frowned upon at Kasugayama, it was not banned explicitly. Yukimura's idiotic little dance with the shovel had finally given him an excuse to exact revenge.

Somewhere in the haze of pain, Yukimura became enraged. He'd already tolerated being treated like a lowly slave, but Chikamitsu had finally gone too far. Unused to such degrading and cruel punishment, his mind suddenly rebelled. All thoughts of enduring this for the sake of his clan vanished as he roared through swollen cheeks and rose up like a maddened beast. One powerful arm caught Chikamitsu around his scrawny waist and flung him back, sending the man crashing backwards into a shelf laden with tools. Chikamitsu's breath was knocked from his lungs and his limited reserves of energy had been spent in the initial assault. Struggling to stand, he could only watch with wide-eyed horror as Yukimura advanced on him…and reached for the shovel.

It would be almost pathetically easy to decapitate the bastard, Yukimura thought, even if the blade wasn't already sharp, rusty and jagged from years of use. His clan could forgive him, given the circumstances - not that his life meant that much to him anymore if the Uesugi chose to execute him either. So it wasn't fear of punishment that stayed his hand, or even Chikamitsu's panicked whimpers for help. Somewhere through his raging bloodlust, a gentle conscience that wasn't altogether his own urged him to reconsider. Chikamitsu was a frail, terrified noncombatant; and brutally slaughtering him would be only temporarily satisfying and extremely dishonorable.

Kanetsugu would never approve of it.

Yukimura tore his gaze away from the shovel and bent over to grab Chikamitsu by the collar. The man gave a strangled cry as Yukimura jerked him upright, toppling an assortment of mallets, adzes and trowels onto him as he did so. With a monumental effort, Yukimura resisted the urge to smash his face into the wall behind him, and instead released Chikamitsu. Then he leaned close to his face; near enough for his bloodied nose to spray a fine red mist over his captor's features when he exhaled.

"The Uesugi are too good for miserable scum like you. Touch me again, and I will tear you into bite-sized pieces for the crows." Once he made the threat, Yukimura abruptly abandoned Chikamitsu and started in the direction of the castle. He had barely taken a few steps when pain and confusion began to set in. He'd overcome his tormentor, but what now? Yukimura felt lost and alone. He needed to find some place quiet to rest and somebody to turn to…but Takeda Shingen, who had been like a father to him, was long gone.

I can fight, but there is nothing left worth fighting for.

Part of him still wanted to see Chikamitsu's severed head rolling across the dirt; but another part reminded him that everything was hopeless; that his clan was doomed, and he was nothing but a slave and a prisoner. Returning without Chikamitsu would also appear highly suspicious. Perhaps he should go to Kanetsugu? Conflict and despair brought hesitation to his step; and made him halt in his tracks to decide exactly what to do next.

In the shed, Chikamitsu took deep breaths and gulped to steady his racing heartbeat. That was too much of a close call. That vile Takeda prisoner (he refused to see him as 'just' a Sanada) had nearly killed him, and escaped unpunished for stealing his land, honor and position as a daimyo; the infraction with the shovel notwithstanding. Some mysterious sentiment on Yukimura's part had spared his life, and now Chikamitsu smarted as well for this insult to his dignity. Yukimura would undoubtably confide in Kanetsugu at the first opportunity; and once the other officials learnt about that, he would not be able to live down the shame. As Chikamitsu propped himself against the shelves, his hand closed around a narrow handle. It was cylindrical and too thin to be a garden tool, and when he looked down at it, he realised he was holding a tool suitable for both torture and discipline. The wretch was standing motionless, unarmed and in the open; with his back towards him.

Chikamitsu tightened his grip on the horsewhip, grinning sadistically.

A/N: Poor Yukimura…obviously Kanetsugu would have to do something about this in the next chapter…;)

Horses:

The Kiso horse breed is indigenous to Japan and the mainstay of many armies including the Takeda. Aki is a very typical Kiso horse. Smaller than their European counterparts, Kiso are intelligent, stocky, hard-hoofed and have excellent toughness and stamina. Many were quite difficult and aggressive to handle as it was believed that foul-tempered horses would do better in battle. High-ranking samurai and generals would try to obtain the largest (and often the most intimidating and rebellious) individuals as personal mounts; so Yukimura's clan is obviously in hardship if they can only supply him with an average, non-fighting horse. At least its friendly.

Truly white horses such as Kayaku exist in nature and are considered very rare. He has blue eyes and is not a true albino - albinism is lethal to horses and foals do not survive beyond birth. Most horses that appear white are officially considered grey as their skin is actually dark – this is visible on areas of little or no hair such as on the lips and eyelids. On Kayaku, these areas would appear a pale pink. I can't decide at this point if he should be a large imported European warhorse, or a freak, mutant giant Kiso. I was inspired to make this horse into a character as there is a real, 'true' white horse used as Kenshin's mount, ridden by Gackt in the drama series Fuurin Kazan. Shinto shrines also keep white horses for ritual purposes and I imagine that Kenshin, being a very religious man, would have been the sengoku daimyo with the easiest access to them.

(On horse names)

Aki – 'Autumn'

Kayaku – 'Gunpowder'