Having a plan is a wonder thing. Having a plan that depends up the whims of others, however, is… frustrating. Yoshimoto agreed that waiting for the populace of the castle to be distracted when Yoshiaki called for another of his flattery sessi… er, councils, would be the best way to time my investigation. Unfortunately, it turned out that Yoshiaki spent the next couple days engrossed in "private pleasures." I chose not to question that further. I suspected the answer would go under the subject header, 'you really don't want to know'.

With both Iekane and Motonari walking freely about the castle grounds, Yoshimoto declared that I would be safest staying in his quarters. I disagreed. Safer, maybe, but I knew that I could still blend in with the scenery and pass by in plain sight. People don't notice servants. Yoshimoto continued to insist upon accompanying me whenever I went on walkabout, and he… does not blend. Inevitably someone would question where Lord Imagawa was headed, did he need anything, and … well, there went any chance of sneaking. We spent more than a couple hours walking through the gardens, pretending that was where our destination had always been.

At least Yoshimoto tried to keep me entertained when I was confined to quarters. As always, I had my shogi set with me, and he turned out to be surprisingly good at the game. He easily won the first three rounds. Finally, I figured out that his playing style consisted of making elaborate feints and distractions that he used to disguise his true intentions.

Once I ceased falling for those ploys, we were more evenly matched, and I began defeating him. "You're improving rapidly." He seemed unconcerned over the fact that I had won after a hard fought battle.

"Less learning the game and more understanding your style and tactics." When his eyebrows (both) raised in enquiry, I went on to explain what I had discovered about his gameplay.

"Flattering that you attribute that to strategy. I simply like making aesthetically pleasing patterns in the formations." He began setting down the tiles, not in the standard game opening layout, but in a more mathematical pattern. A flower.

Really?

No.

Really?

I stared at him for a moment before I realized he was hiding a smile. "You goof! I almost believed you." I threw a tile at him.

"You must admit it would add an interesting dimension to the game. If players were required to compete to make the most artistic designs." He gracefully rearranged the tiles into the main starting position. "Another game?"

"You don't have to keep entertaining me." Yoshimoto had stayed in his quarters almost as much as I had.

"It is no hardship to spend time with a lovely woman." He touched my hand. "However, there are other ways to keep each other company if you … no? I thought not." He backtracked before I could even begin to verbalize a refusal.

"Your vassals might start wondering why you spend so much time with your page." It was not an uncommon situation, and unlike in modern Christian-influenced thought, even generally accepted for lords to have relations with male subordinates. However, I imagined that the Imagawa vassals would be annoyed that Yoshimoto was wasting time with me, instead of concentrating on training and battle preparations.

"They have, in fact. Rumors of my obsession with my 'pretty page' have spread across the castle." Since I had not yet made a move to begin a new game, he began creating another tile design.

Oof. Well. Katsu didn't actually exist, so it likely wouldn't affect me all that much. But as for Yoshimoto… "Don't you care?"

"Worse has been said about me." A sad smile flitted across his face, then evaporated like mist.

Fortunately for both my peace of mind and Yoshimoto's reputation, the next day the shogun called for another session of meetings between himself, Yoshimoto, Motonari, and Iekane. Finally, I was finally free to investigate Mozumi's condition. After assuring Yoshimoto on multiple occasions that I would proceed with caution, I made my way to the tenshu that housed Mozumi's quarters. The dark gloom of the corridors and shadows on the stairs proved my allies, allowing me to melt into darkness unseen.

At one corner of the floor housing Mozumi's personal rooms, I crouched under the eaves, waiting to make sure it would be safe to enter. I watched a maid go into his room carrying a kettle and a bucket. For a while, there was a quiet bustling about in there, before she remerged with the bucket, holding it as far away from her body as possible. Ah. She had emptied the chamber pot. Even from where I was hiding, I could smell the odor of urine.

With her hands occupied in such a way, she was not able to completely close the door, allowing me to sneak inside the rooms without a sound.

Mozumi's chambers were larger than the quarters assigned to Yoshimoto, as befits the daimyo. It was divided into several areas by screens and sliding panels. From the entry, the end of Mozumi's futon was visible through the half-closed panel. His hand lay limply over the side, and rested on the floor. He was snoring though, so at least he was still alive.

Electing to first investigate the outer room before getting too much closer to him (the last thing I wanted would be to wake him up and demand I leave… or worse, yell for help), I prowled around the chamber. No writing desk in evidence. Granted, Mozumi probably had a set of offices in the main area of the castle in which to conduct most of his business, but if he were indeed too sick to leave his chambers, he was also apparently not conducting any 'work from home' either. A quick rifle through his clothing revealed that he primarily wore soft, informal kimonos. No hakama, no armor. He didn't even appear to have any warm outerwear or geta. When had been the last time he'd even left the tenshu?

It seemed that Mozumi had been very ill for a long time – and was not expected to improve.

On the brazier, the maid had left the kettle steaming over the hot coals. A container of tea, a bowl and brush were nearby. A paper packet with, yes, that was willow bark, had fallen onto the floor. Even the shelves were full of containers of herbs, packets of medicinal powders, some of which had been shoved to the back and were dusty with age. What were all these herbs? Were they helping, or hindering his recovery?

Perhaps he was being accidentally poisoned, not through malice, but through the incompetence of the local healer.

Still, having taken the risk of sneaking into this room, I resolved to see this investigation through to the end. I cautiously entered into Mozumi's sleeping area alert to any sign of wakening. Still snoring away. I gazed down at him, seeing only an old, sick man, his face creased with lines of age and pain. Saggy skin at his neck and arms, gave evidence to a substantial amount of weight loss. His limbs were, thin, shriveled, without much muscle tone.

At the side of the bed, an empty tea cup. At the bottom, a faint ring of green tea. I picked it up and sniffed it. Was there anything else in the cup? Thanks to Aki's training, I could recognize some common poisons, but nothing obvious was leaping out at me.

Nothing… except another inconvenient not-my-memory.

"There's no such thing as a love potion. It's a myth. Even if you gathered … whatever you put in this… and danced by the light of the full moon."

"Lady Yone said there is. She once told me that purple flowers that grow along the cliffs, if brewed into a tea, would make a love potion." She opened the teapot and stared into it.

Purple flowers… cliffside… I had to think to picture what grew around h—

Torikabuto.

I took the teapot away from her, while again my brain went 'don't touch it, don't spill it, get rid of it now.' "Shohime, that's poison!"

"Oh. I did wonder why Nobunaga's groom took it away from me." She sighed sadly. "Maybe people pretend its poison to hide the fact that love potion grows on every cliff in Japan."

"It is poison. I have seen the results." Mitsunari pushed the table further away from all of us.

Mitsunari? Sho… hime? That had clearly been Sho in the vision, a Sho far more richly dressed and coiffed than the one in Sakai. Aki's letter had mentioned a shattered timeline. Was this from a different life altogether? Perhaps the reason I was experiencing these visions so much more powerfully here was that a different Katsuko had spent some time visiting Genba.

And… had nearly been poisoned.

Fresh on the heels of that memory, came another one, just as strong:

Where were the sentries?

They ought to have been posted along the walls, but no one was visible. Had they joined Iekane's troops? Or were they being held prisoner somewhere? Overall, the situation appeared increasingly dire for anyone in Genba, although at least the missing sentries should make it easier for me to get to the tenshu unnoticed.

I found a tree that hung close enough to the wall to allow me to swing over, then ducked out of sight. Keeping my body low, I flattened myself against the stone, crawling slowly toward the tenshu, staying alert to any sound that would indicate an approaching guard.

It was eerily quiet.

Not until I reached the first guard tower did I understand why – the sentries were sprawled out under the tower, bodies stiff and cold, faces frozen in agony, a broken tea pot at their feet. Lady Yone's calling card. Apparently she had found a use for the torikabuto after all.

I had been too late for these men, too.

Were these visions of poison a warning? Or were these distractions, putting ideas into my head where there was no other evidence? Had I been led astray by someone else's memories? For the longer I looked through this room, the more it was clear that Mozumi had not left these quarters for quite a while. Years maybe. Maybe even before Iekane came onto the scene.

Annoying to leave this scouting mission with no evidence of wrongdoing. But frustrating as it was, the longer I stayed in here, the more I would be at risk, so I turned to leave… about five minutes too late.

There were footsteps and voices coming toward the room.

Iekane's voice.

Quickly, I ducked behind a screen and…

Oh… yuck!

This was where the wooden chamber pot lived. And Mozumi's aim was … terrible. I covered my nose and tried to silently breathe through my mouth as Iekane and another man entered the quarters.

"As you can see, his condition has not improved." Iekane, sounding sad, with an edge of frustration in his voice. "Are you certain there is nothing you can do? I had high hopes of a cure from the most reputable healer in the area." There was something of a threat in those words. Sounded like if Mozumi died, Iekane already had a scapegoat in mind.

There was a lower tone rumble in response that became more audible as the two men got closer to my hiding place. "There are, naturally, other treatments I can employ, but at a certain point, the patient will continue to weaken due to lack of sustenance."

I risked carefully peering through the panels to see Iekane with an older man – the healer, I resumed, for he spent a few moments examining Mozumi from various angles, smelling his breath, and poking sharply pointed sticks into his fingertips.

Iekane let out a long sigh. "It is painful to see him so. I remember when he was a vital man."

The healer simply hummed to himself.

If I had hoped to overhear a confession of crime or a conversation between two plotters, I was clearly doomed. Even if Iekane was poisoning Mozumi, this healer was not part of it, nor had he ever detected any evidence of poison.

Theory – not yet proven.

Evidence – yet to be found.

So… I'd gotten myself into this situation for nothing. Into this very smelly situation for nothing.

"Is he still using his bowels?" A rustle of cloth.

"That is not a thing I have paid attention to." I heard a clink of porcelain. The teacup.

"Sometimes the tincture of poppy can cause a foul stoppage." Ah ha. Opium. That was what had been in the teacup. "I would hesitate to give him more were that the case."

Based on the conditions of this commode, Mozumi's bowels were working just fine.

Wait.

Shit.

Literally… shit.

What if the healer decided to check for himself-

Footsteps came closer to my hiding place.

I pressed myself further against the wall and palmed my dagger, ready to defend myself if my hiding place was discovered.

Another set of footsteps as a third person entered the room.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" A smack. Skin against skin. "Why are you not at your post?"

"I'm sorry, Master Iekane." A rougher accent, from a speaker who did not sound completely deferential to Iekane. Interesting. Helpful? "The shogun requested that you return to the council room. He grows impatient."

There was a disgusted noise from Iekane, but his words revealed no frustration. "Of course. Rokuro, have your completed your examination?"

"I believe there is nothing more to see." The healer seemed eager to leave this place. I did not blame him.

"You. Guard. Make yourself useful and clean."

And two sets of footsteps left the room.

Please don't clean the chamber pot.

I waited, but the guard did not move at all. He was so quiet, I began to wonder if he had left. Or maybe he was killing time, defying Iekane's orders. If so, might he be someone I could convince of Iekane's plotting? Or would I be captured and presented to Iekane as a gift to prove the guard's loyalty.

Too risky. Better to stay put, and prepared for anyth-

Without warning, the screen was pushed aside, and I found myself staring into a pair of familiar amber-gold eyes. "Interesting detour you've taken, Brat." He eyed the stained chamber pot. "And rather fragrant as well."

The appearance of Mitshuhide where a Mitsuhide was not expected to be stunned me into silence. I could only stare stupidly at him, taking in his latest disguise of shaggy dark hair, streaked with grey, and sun darkened skin. That familiar prickly feeling danced along my nerves.

He raised his eyebrow.

"Did … did you follow me here?" While I had seen his spy on the road here, I had not ever caught sight of Mitsuhide.

"Oh, dear me, no. I arrived a good three days before you." Right. He let you go. While I was still wrestling with the disappointment that his presence here at Genba was simply a coincidence, he put his arm around my shoulders and guided me out from behind the screen. "Before you … and the Imagawa."

"You didn't go back to Azuchi?" His sudden appearance had rendered me unable to do anything except state the obvious.

"I did not. And I suggest we continue this conversation elsewhere – perhaps that courtyard you and Yoshimoto are so fond of - before your friend Iekane or a vassal returns and finds us here." Without waiting for me to answer, he turned my shoulders and pointed me toward the door.

Yeah, that would be a good idea. And even if it hadn't been a good idea, Mitushide was using that 'I won't take no for an answer tone of voice.' "Can I at least grab a cloak?"

"By all means. Although I believe you will discover that freezing to death is the least of your worries at the moment." And then, after one more inscrutable glare from those eyes, Mitsuhide took me by the hand and tugged me out of the room.