Hello my loves, say good morning to a quick update! I'd like to thank the people who have reviewed, especially the new ones! I'm glad everyone is sticking with this story so far, and in the words of one reviewer (paraphrased Nut style of course): This ain't over yet, not by a longshot! (1)

Anyway, I hope this meets expectations and standards that I've thus far set for myself here. I also hope you all tell me how much you like it, if you like it, because I love hearing what everyone has to say about Samurai! As always, more information can be found on the OniOnna blog over on tumblr. Sorry to keep advertising that…but it's there for a reason!

Funfact: Hakama are actually both formal pants-things as well as riding attire. If you look at most medieval Japanese clothing…well…a lot of pre-western-barging-in-like-jerks Japanese clothing, it's mostly composed of robes of various lengths and functions. How do you have a mounted cavalry when everyone is wearing robes? Answer: Hakama, worn only by men up until…fifteen years ago or something. There're all these special ways to take care of them too—you have to fold them a certain way to retain the pleating, and you have to store them so that the folds don't come undone. There are going to be pictures up on the blog sometime tomorrow, so look for those.

Funfact: North was/is an unlucky direction in at least Chinese and Japanese tradition, it was where ghosts, demons, and other Bad News Bears came from—In this period in Japan people put special little markers on the north facing or northerly corners of their homes to bounce the demons away. The northern part of Honshu, the main island, was pretty bad—while Hokkaido, the far northern large island, was considered completely evil, unsalvageable. It had only been added to the official territory of Japan around the 17th century, so while contemporary to our story it was still kept largely at arm's length.

Funotherstuff: This story is taking place on the main island of Honshu, and Fujimi is a real town, and Iimori-yama is a real mountain. If Fujimi existed three hundred fifty years ago…I don't particularly want to sift through that much history which is likely written in only Japanese, sorry.

Funotherstuff: There are going to be pictures of Japanese writing sets up on the blog sometime tomorrow as well, so if you're interested in how awkward it is to way for someone to get ready to write…head on over to the OniOnna blog on tumblr. Links are on my profile page, I promise the site is dedicated to only Samurai and the Oni Girl stuff.

(1) It really, really isn't over yet…for a spoiler: We're only at the halfway point now.

Anyway, for now let me say:

Enjoy!

They allowed him to hurriedly change into attire he could ride in, sending two men around to the back so that he wouldn't try to run. He worried that Tenzou and Sakura were still outside but felt relief crash into him when he saw Tenzou kneeling just outside of his room, while Sakura waited for him inside it. Both of them were silent, waiting for illumination or instructions, he was too shaken to decipher which.

"Sakura," he extended a hand out towards her, "I need my…" he closed his eye, trying to remember the damn word he needed. The Uchiwa traitors—had they been plotting against the shogun? Had their perverse religion been found out? As he had feared, their problems had dragged him into their business—"my hakama." Sakura quickly had the garment for him, turning to get the rest of his formal outfit while he took off his yukata behind the screen.

"Don't let them see you, Sakura, I don't know if they'd care or not but…stay inside," words, let alone complete sentences were hard, but Kakashi forced himself to manage as he dressed as quickly as he could. Keep Sakura safe no matter what repeated endlessly in his mind. If he had to lie through his teeth about her, he would just have to do that and hope she either never heard of his words or forgave him for them.

He came out from behind the screen still straightening his clothing—he probably looked a mess—and almost ran into Sakura. The girl tucked herself against him, her head resting briefly on his chest before she lifted it up so as to look him in the eye. He cupped her cheek, feeling bile creep up in his chest towards his throat as his worry turned ugly.

"Sakura I…" he trailed off because she already knew anything he might want or try to say. The specter of proving his innocence to the Shogun's investigators leaned heavily on his mind. They would surely come for his family if they chose to arrest him. Would he see her ever again if he failed?

"Kakashi," her hand cupped his cheek, mirroring him, "I love you, come back soon. Be safe," her words were followed by a beat of silence as Kakashi processed them. And then suddenly Kakashi didn't care that Tenzou was not ten feet away from them or that four men awaited his return outside. He was scared yes, but his wife loved him, and so he bent down to kiss her, tilting her face upwards to make it easier. It wasn't a short, soft kiss, it was a hard, aggressive long kiss. He kissed Sakura possessively, pressing his tongue against hers, taking her lower lip between his teeth, pulling away to change the angle he slanted his lips against hers at, and a spike of pleasure rocked him when he earned a soft moan from her—Kakashi wanted her to look and feel as thoroughly kissed as possible. If this were the last time he could kiss her, he wanted it to be something which turned her world on its head.

"And I love you; now stay here, in this house, until I come home, no matter how long that is. Understood?" he spoke against her lips, reluctant to part from her. He only tore himself away when Sakura nodded hesitantly, drawing breath to speak. Kakashi was out of the room by the time she put together a word, and he was almost out of the house when he heard her call out his name.

The Uchiwa had been taken to the Sarutobi estate, as it was the closest place which could accommodate becoming a kind of jail as well as allowing their captors to clear out the Uchiwa mainhouse for a full search and inspection—without the troublesome presence of the current-soon-to-be-former-occupants. The Sarutobi estate was also quite close to the Uchiwa land. The interrogators made themselves known at that point, as they didn't have business with the artifacts of the Uchiwa church but with the people of the Uchiwa family and employ. The investigators stayed at the Uchiwa estate for the most part with a few guards, the rest accompanying the family.

Among the interrogators was one of the men who had been present the night Itachi had betrayed his clan. Their eyes met across the room and they each nodded minutely to one another. They each did what they had to in order to sleep at night, regardless of what that action was. Itachi understood the official and that man understood him. He was glad that the person in charge of his family's capture was one who knew the tale firsthand, as the man would perhaps spare some of Itachi's youngest relatives.

Itachi himself was still being kept with the women and children, far away from the men who might try to rally against their captors if their family head was present. He wanted to say that his presence among them would be of no harm, he would not condone such actions and that his family would listen to him—but Itachi felt that might disrupt his calm, to openly admit that he was at fault for having the family rounded up as they had been. That he was at fault for the deaths of earlier in the morning, as well as all of their eventual deaths by execution. Those few men who had initially resisted capture and had been killed were lucky, lucky like Uchiwa Mikoto had been.

He was about to close his eyes to give himself over to prayer once more when he caught a flash of white hair out of the corner of his eye. Turning to look properly he was stunned to see not an old grandfather being led into one of the family-turned-interrogation-rooms, but Hatake Kakashi with his hands bound in front of him as he was flanked by guards. Itachi tried to stand, to get across the room—they were bringing in people he hadn't implicated, this was all wrong—but one of his own guards clapped a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back to the floor.

Across the room the man from that night in Edo glanced up at the commotion. Itachi had stated again and again he would go quietly, and perhaps it was enough that he'd even tried to stand—he had the man's attention now. Itachi stared him down as he dealt with whatever underling he'd been speaking to before quickly crossing to Itachi. All the young Uchiwa could think of was Hatake Kakashi—he had been Obito's best friend, one of the only friends outside of the family that Obito, Shisui or even Itachi had had. Itachi had tried to emulate everything he had ever heard of or seen Kakashi doing, ever since he had come to Fujimi as a boy. Was it because of those close ties to the family that Kakashi was being brought in? Itachi's heart clenched at the thought of hurting a non-believer—this was only supposed to have been to cut away his own family's influence and arrogance, not injure bystanders.

"I'd like to speak with him alone," Itachi looked up into the face of the head interrogator as the man spoke with Itachi's guard, "bring him for me." There was no mistaking who he was talking about, Itachi was the only grown man in the group he was being kept with.

"Why the sudden change in demeanor, Uchiwa-san?" Itachi had had no time to even sit down before the questions started.

"I saw some of your men bringing in Hatake Kakashi—the man with the white hair—and I was surprised. I agreed to provide every name that you and your team would need, in exchange for a trip to Fujimi before the arrests. His name is nowhere on that list." For the first time that day Morino looked embarrassed. For what, Itachi couldn't even begin to guess—had the Shogunate double crossed him?

"One of my men can be a bit overeager sometimes, I'm sure he just wanted to interview this Hatake-san about your family."

"Then why," Itachi's voice turned cold, "was he bound like a criminal when I saw him?" Anger flashed across Morino's face, although to whom it was directed was unclear. He stood quickly and left, shutting the shoji in Itachi's face, leaving him in darkness. With nothing better to do, Itachi bent his head and murmured his prayers softly. He also reflected on his family relationships—Fugaku was almost a father to him, while Obito and Shisui had been his elder brothers. Kakashi had been something between a fun uncle and a close cousin—there was always a laugh lurking in Kakashi's face somehow, although most would be hard pressed to notice it.

His appearance had been so strange, so changed. Itachi hadn't seen him since shortly after Obito's funeral. Kakashi had been haggard then, trying to get his planting in as well as care for his ailing father—but he had looked as he always had, a full head of strikingly black hair laced with not even a dozen silver hairs indicating his approaching middle age. Today had been shocking, seeing the stark white hair on top of a head with Kakashi's face on it.

Kakashi had had to ride with his hands bound, allowed to hold the reins tenuously between a few fingers while his horse had remained tied on a lead to one of the others. His three guards had been anything but ginger when they had helped him down, while the official just looked at him as though he were scum. Just what had the Uchiwa done?

Sarutobi-sama's mainhouse, normally welcoming and almost cheery, looked anything but in the harsh afternoon autumn sunlight. The house was deathly silent except for the sound of women weeping somewhere, and the strange sounding prayers that the Uchiwa used. He didn't dare look up or around as his captors—because they were definitely not escorts or even guards—led him through the house. Kakashi didn't want to see the faces of those who he'd grown up with, his family if not by blood then by time spent. He was so focused on not looking that when they came to a stop it was a bit of a surprise.

"This is Hatake-san," the official at his elbow piped up to the man in front of them. His smile was anything but comforting, despite how nicely it lit his face. Kakashi suddenly wanted to be questioned by any man other than this one. This man was one who would get anything out of anyone—there was no way Kakashi was going to be able to convince him of his innocence.

"Ah, Hatake Kakashi, I have heard a lot about you over the last day or so. I believe you and I have a lot to talk about." That simple, ominous statement unglued Kakashi's tongue, immobile since he'd fled the house, from Sakura—terror had glued it, but indignant anger loosed it.

"I can only wonder at what, my lord, when I've been nearly kidnapped from my own home to see you." The appraising glance he earned for his trouble made his bitter tone worth it—he wasn't in a position to speak bitterly, but Kakashi was certain this man didn't care if his captive was bitter, pleased, dead, or alive. It didn't matter to him if Kakashi were to be troublesome or helpful, it just didn't matter. A second glance, directed at those to Kakashi's sides, had Kakashi being propelled after his interrogator into one of the more private rooms away from the opened middle of the house filled with crying women and distraught men.

There he was forced to kneel while across from him the other man gracefully sat down, his legs comfortably crossed and nested so he could rest his elbows on his knees. Kakashi sat in resolute silence, watching as an inkstone was brought out from a small chest, followed by a soft request for a little water for ink. The disturbing smile flashed across the man's face momentarily whenever he met Kakashi's gaze. Once he had made his ink and prepared his paper and brushes he shifted to sit a bit straighter, his entire air jovial—as though this were normal.

"Now, you don't need to know my name—frankly under these circumstances you wouldn't even see my face, but you are a samurai and a local hero at that, so I am affording you the courtesy of your…" when he smiled Kakashi fought against recoiling against the predatory gleam of it, "relative comfort at the moment. I do, however, require that you repay my generosity with a little honesty. Can we agree on that, Hatake-san?" The interrogator didn't wait for his agreement.

"I am using your records as they were updated over the summer, so please bear with me while I do some corrections. Your age is listed here as…thirty. Is this correct?" Those eyes stared across the gap between them, expectant and waiting—Kakashi briefly considered refusing to answer, but then Sakura and her beautiful pink hair swept into his mind. He had to somehow—somehow—get through this for Sakura.

"Thirty one, I turned thirty one a few weeks ago." A slimily happy look crossed the other man's face at Kakashi's easy compliance. He, meanwhile, focused on Sakura and kept her at the forefront of his mind as a talisman, or a balm, on his angry pride.

"You have been granted two hundred koku it says here, is this unchanged?"

"It is unchanged," his answer was followed by his companion quickly noting down both his age and his amount of land.

"Hmm," there was a shuffling of paper as he pawed through Kakashi's records, as though searching for something seen earlier, "it seems as though you got married in the spring Hatake-san! I offer you my congratulations, I'm sure she is a lovely lady despite the rumors I heard yesterday in town." Kakashi felt his heart stop as those words dripped effortlessly from the interrogator's mouth. He wasn't here because of the Uchiwa at all, he was here because of Sakura somehow—that was why he had been told so little, it was to keep him from telling Sakura and Tenzou to flee the house after he was taken. Opening both of his eyes, Kakashi looked up into the other man's face—the bastard was still awaiting Kakashi's answer, a smile playing on his lips.

"Sakura is an excellent wife, I do not pretend to know what you have heard about her though. We live far from town and rarely visit there." Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb.

"Oh I'm simply talking about the fact that the people of Fujimi seem to think that you've married an oni girl. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that, although perhaps that is their explanation of her appearance—surely she is not that detestable to look at. But perhaps it is because they don't know of her foreign, kirishitan ancestry that they make up tales about her? Was your marriage arranged by Uchiwa Fugaku to round out his followers?" There was a wicked look in the man's eye now—he enjoyed toying with people like this. Kakashi sent a quick prayer to the gods that they would protect his wife just a little bit longer, if they were protecting her at all.

"You are incorrect, sir, in your assumption that my wife or I have any business with the Uchiwa other than my association with them as a youth. My wife is from—"

"Iimori, it is listed right here Hatake-san, I can—"

"Iimori-yama, my lord, I must correct you," Kakashi paused both for breath and to see if his bluff was working, "I was traveling to Iimori, which sits in the foothills of Iimori-yama, to meet with a merchant about possibly marrying his daughter. It is a two day journey in winter, but I pressed my luck and continued on after sunset. It was a few hours after dark that I realized I was hopelessly lost, I was freezing, and that I might very well die that night—and that was when I heard screaming." Kakashi hesitated then, his tale erupting from what he hoped was nowhere—or else it was a secret belief that was only coming to light now, and if it was he hated himself for it. But his interrogator was taking the bait.

"Screaming?"

"Yes, a woman screaming. I forced myself towards it, and the closer I got the more I heard other sounds as well—fighting and snarling. I thought a woman had been caught by an animal until I reached the clearing. I could only barely make out their forms, but a group of men were attacking a young woman. At first I put myself between them because I wanted to save the girl, but they mistook me for some other creature and attacked me—I was cold and unprepared for them, the wounds they gave me would have killed me except for Sakura."

"I take it Sakura was the young woman?" Kakashi nodded, his body language uncertain on purpose—as though he were reluctant to talk about the experience.

"Yes…and no. Sakura lost control of her illusion when the smell of my blood went into the air and began fighting against them in her true form, which she hadn't used against them because she hadn't wanted to hurt them. Not until then, when she was fighting the urge to devour me, did she direct her full strength to the fight. She says it was a good distraction."

"How are you al—"

"Alive? I promised her that if she didn't eat me I would protect her, so she healed me on the condition that I marry her, which I did this last spring. She maintains the illusion of a human form to try and make me forget what she is, it's actually quite endearing," for the first time in several minutes Kakashi looked down and away from his now quite captive audience, embarrassed at himself and his words despite a small smile tugging at his face. With a mental shake he gathered his wits once again to finish his explanation.

"But her illusions can only go so far—they can't change the color of her eyes or her hair. I've never lied to the villagers about what she is. It is painfully obvious if you see her, you can ask anyone in town. She likes her human form but she acts quite stiff in it as though she doesn't quite know how to move sometimes." The interrogator squinted his eyes at Kakashi for a long moment, a moment where Kakashi realized that perhaps he had been allowed to spin whatever tale he wanted so long as it wasn't boring.

"You married a demon girl, an oni girl, in return for healing of wounds you sustained trying to save her," hearing the slightest amount of doubt in the man's tone, Kakashi chose to reply caustically, perhaps venting some of his frustration that way would be productive rather than destructive.

"Yes, do they not have demons in the mountains outside of Edo? Is it so hard to believe that here in the North there are demons? Demons come from the North, we deal with them up here all the time. Some choose to be invisible, some appear as monsters, and one of them has granted me a good life in exchange for saving her own. Is that so hard to understand? You act as though you've never encountered a demon in your life! Or are you too busy hunting down foreigners' ghosts that you've forgotten the creatures which have always been in Japan?"

The offensive tactic had the desired effect—the interrogator believed him. To be sure he gawked like a fish for a few moments, but Kakashi's words in the end held up to whatever mental tests the man had.

"This…this is not what you had written down at your wedding in the spring, Hatake-san, it must be changed to reflect the truth," he started uncertainly, glancing down to his fast-trying ink, at a loss for what to do. Kakashi didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief that he had somehow convinced the man that he'd married a demon—Although Sakura's anger might be quite demonic once she found out what he'd said.

"Of course, I understand. Would you like me to repeat it for you?"

"No, no," the man was still quite flustered at the 'truth' Kakashi had told him, "No, you are quite free to go Hatake-san. Guard! Come in here, see that this man is released," he turned a little to see who came into the room at his command but paled suddenly. "M-Mo-Morino-sama!" The tall man who entered with the guard narrowed his eyes at Kakashi's former tormentor.

"It seems you've chosen to release him yourself, that's good. Tell me, have you ordered the detention of any other Fujimi residents without my explicit permission? –Oh, Hatake-san, you are free to go. You, untie his hands and show him the way out of the house."

His mind whirled faster than he could keep up with, so Kakashi simply put one foot in front of the other—leaving the Sarutobi house, and then the compound, and finally starting to amble his way down the road towards his own home. He didn't shuffle or stumble for the most part, except for when his sandal would catch a rock and nearly trip him, something which happened frequently as he paid little attention to his surroundings. Sakura was safe, although she was going to hate him forever. He had given permission for the records of their marriage to be changed to reflect that she was actually a demon—Kakashi held out little hope that Sakura would understand that particular move on his part. By allowing the change, no official would ever question his wife's appearance again—but that line of reasoning just days ago had nearly driven them apart.

The walk was long, made longer by his own mental anguish. He kept trying to protect Sakura, but it seemed he continued to make a mess of everything by doing so. And he would never send her away, back to Iimori where she had faced so much hate—besides, he now knew she loved him despite his routine idiocy. There was some hope still that she would forgive him a second time for an even worse crime against her.

Because the memory of the 'oni girl,' in Fujimi would fade eventually—just as the exact time that Kakashi's hair turned white was beginning to fade from people's conversations—but as of this afternoon turning to evening, his seventeen year old wife had been labeled a demon, in writing. The papers, human records of human lives, would be kept for long after even their deaths.

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