Mitsuhide's gaze slid over my Katsu drag, making me feel like a child who has been caught in mischief. I raised my chin. I had done nothing wrong, and I had returned by sunrise. Almost.

I held up my pack. "There were some personal items I had stored at Francisco's that I wanted back."

"Indeed. Did it occur to you that your master would prefer not to have you traipsing all over Sakai dressed that way?" Before I could react, he had confiscated my pack and my arsenal. "I believe I'll store these for safekeeping."

Aki's letter!

Not wanting to let him know he'd taken something important, I faked a smile and asked, "Did it occur to my 'master' that he now has two operatives for the price of one?"

"That rather depends on whether your skill set matches your enthusiasm. Does it?" Before I could assure him that I had the ability to do what was necessary, he continued. "After all, it was your blundering about town that landed you in this situation to begin with." He rooted through the pack and with one finger, lifted out the ugly brown kimono. "Perhaps you can console yourself with the thought that it will pain Kyubei to be seen with someone wearing this." He tossed it to me.

Ugh. Fine. I bundled the offensive garment against my stomach as I waited for him to leave the room so that I could change.

"Dear me, is it your desire that I act as your personal maid? I do not recall that being part of our agreement, but if that is your wish, I aim to please." He took a step toward me.

Ducking out of his way, I said, "I've been dressing myself since I could walk." Since he still hadn't left, I waved him toward the door. "I'm not performing in a peep show. Get out."

"You've yet to prove you can be trusted next to an open window." He pulled the Yokai panelled screen away from the wall, creating a tiny alcove. He took me by the shoulders and spun me to face the screen. "If you're that shy, change behind this. Go on now." He gave me a very gentle nudge in that direction.

It would serve him right if I treated him to a full out striptease, but that was too far to go to prove a point (not that I know how to perform one anyway). "As you wish."

Behind the relative safety of the screen, I put Kaya's clothing back on. Then, keeping a tight grip on the kimono and hakama I had just removed, I returned to face my new 'master.' If he meant to confiscate Katsu, the way he had stolen my bag, he was going to learn just how rebellious and stubborn I could be.

He reached out his hand, and I took a nervous step back. "My clothes stay in my possession."

Instead of trying to steal my clothes, he took my hand and placed a little container in the center of my palm. When I didn't immediately examine it, he removed the lid, revealing some kind of cream that smelled vaguely medicinal. "For your wrists." He traced his finger along the abrasion left by the rope.

He scooped out a little of the cream, and lightly massaged it into my wounds. His touch, and the cream, were both cool on my skin, and though I hadn't realized that the cuts needed treatment, I felt instantly soothed, like little bits of frayed nerves were knitting back together. "Thank you."

He inclined his head, and then, as if it was the gesture meant nothing, continued in a conversational tone. "Did you discover anything useful? You were gone far longer than it should have taken to retrieve your belongings."

That suggested that he'd been awake – or awakened – when I climbed out the window in the middle of the night. The fact that he hadn't rushed after or stopped me meant that he had been reasonably confident that I would return. Or maybe just confident that he could find me and bring me back – possibly in those threatened chains. "Maybe? There is a warehouse that I am curious about because five years ago it held a shipment of probably smuggled Nanban muskets."

"You know this… because?" He turned toward the futon, and then, unexpectedly took a moment to smooth out the sheets and blanket – just as smooth – smoother, in fact - than I had left it. Then he gestured for me to follow him out of the room. "That kimono truly is an affront. Your master intends for you to wear something that is less of a crime against nature."

I didn't argue that. I couldn't. The brown kimono was something I had hated from the first time I'd been forced to put it on. But, for a housemaid, it was practical, and made me nearly invisible when I wore it. "The weapons? It's kind of a long story." One in which I was nearly killed and I haven't had enough tea this morning to discuss it. "Short version – because I was in there and saw them. I'm not clear on who owned the warehouse at that time, but now I think it belongs to a merchant named Shojumaru."

Mitsuhide stopped in the middle of the staircase, and I nearly plowed right into him. "Shojumaru?"

"Do you know him?" From that reaction, he obviously had heard something about this Shojumaru. I hadn't known Mitsuhide very long, but even this short acquaintance was enough to make me realize that his brief pause was equivalent to anyone else's 'what the hell' reaction.

"Suffice it to say that his name has come up in the past. But thus far, we have yet to meet face to face." He continued down to the street level, then suddenly put his arm out.

Yeah. It's your arm. What about it?

I must have hestitated too long for he said, "Put your hand on my arm, brat. Kyubei is about to have fun dressing his new concubine." He drew his fingers across his lips, miming a smile. "Try for at least some semblance of enthusiasm. I was under the impression that women liked shopping."

Right. In public, I had to pretend to be intimate with 'Kyubei,' and 'outside' definitely counted as 'in public,' though, actually there didn't seem to be anyone paying attention to us. You agreed to this, I reminded myself again, as I lightly placed my hand on his forearm. His skin felt cool to the touch – like a snake's - but I kept that thought to myself. "So, he's a person of interest?"

"Who?" Mitsuhide strolled with me down the street, walking so slowly we might as well be going backward. "Person of interest? Sometimes you come up with the oddest way of phrasing things… almost like…" He trailed off. It seemed like the words had frozen in his throat.

I turned to look at him, trying to read his face, but his expression hadn't altered. Still, there was something about the way he'd cut off his words that made me think he'd stopped himself, not to self-edit, but because the topic was painful to him. So instead, I pushed the conversation back to where it had been. "Shojumaru. Do you think he is involved in this?"

He didn't answer.

Before we entered a shop that looked to be a storefront for a seamstress, Mitsuhide underwent a rather creepy transformation, somehow managing to turn what was normally an attractive profile (I don't like him, but I can't claim he isn't good looking) into something dark and sneering. Having seen Aki perform similar tricks, I shouldn't have been unnerved by it, but Mitsuhide's ability to inhabit a character far exceeded Aki's and this new creature seemed volatile and sinister.

He gave my arm a bit of a tug, pulling me off balance, causing me to stumble as we crossed the threshold.

"Graceless child. Did no one teach you how to walk?" The look of disgust he gave me was chilling.

But under that attitude and the dark wig, it was still Mitsuhide, and Mitsuhide had a way of always daring me to snark back at him. "Next time, don't pull me off balance."

He whirled suddenly, gracefully and his fingers gripped my chin. "Do not forget your place."

The pinch didn't hurt, nor had it hurt when he pulled me into the building, but the cold indifference when he addressed me created a different kind of pain. It told me I was worth nothing; that this man would toss me into the gutter at the slightest provocation.

He half-dragged me to a counter area where the proprietor was watching with appalled fascination. "This sorry creature needs a full wardrobe. I've been informed that you are a seamstress of adequate ability."

The seamstress looked pissed at that insult to her skill but her expression changed when 'Kyubei' dropped a heavy coin purse on the counter. "Of course, my lord." She let her gaze drift down my brown kimono and I could see her repress a shudder. "However, I do not sell fabric. If you have a preferred vendor, material can be sent to me, or for an added fee, I will purchase some."

Mitsuhide gave the seamstress's own kimono a long look and raised that eyebrow. Clearly 'Kyubei' thought he could do better on his own, although I have no idea what he thought wrong with her taste. Then again, I've never had the luxury of thinking about that – clothes were part of my uniform, they kept me warm, and that's all they've needed to be for the past seven years. "I will have fabric sent to you. In the meanwhile, perhaps you have something already completed that I can purchase today. My pet's," he reached out a finger and drew it down the side of my face, "clothing needs to reflect her new position in life." The slight emphasis he gave the word 'position' was a bit extra.

Yes, yes, I'm sure the woman already figured that I would be spending most of my time on my back.

The seamstress hesitated until more coins were laid upon the counter. "Indeed, yes, I might have something suitable."

By which I understood that to mean some poor woman was going to have to wait much longer for her kimono.

"Good." He turned to me and leered. "I do hope you will show proper gratitude for my generosity." He hooked a finger around the edge of my kimono and pulled me closer to him.

He was acting. I knew this was a performance pitched specifically for the seamstress. He might tease and suggest, he might order me around, but he wasn't cruel or sleazy. Or… was he? Maybe the Mitsuhide I knew was the act and this man was the reality?

But whatever this was, I didn't have to reach far into my own acting bag to feel repulsed. I slapped his hand away. I might have agreed to play his concubine in public, but even the concubines I had seen around the city were not passive victims to this kind of behavior.

The seamstress looked horrified – whether it was on my behalf or because of a potential loss of sale, and before Mitsuhide… no, Kyubei, it's Kyubei, it's an act, as much as Kaya is, and Kaya needs to stop rebelling so overtly… before he could do more than reach for me again, she intervened. "My lord, I need to measure this one in order to properly fit her."

Mitsuhide directed a look at me that clearly conveyed this matter wasn't over yet, then waved at the seamstress. "Yes. Take that off. And bring her back in something that less offends my eyes."

I gratefully followed her to a back room, where she silently began measuring me with leather strips. The physical measurements were neutral. The measurement of my character was much more scornful.

How should I play this? Kaya might want to run away, but this woman hadn't given me any suggestion that she would be willing to help. Maybe she'd seen this scenario play out all too often. Maybe she felt like the concubines had brought this on themselves. Asking her for help wouldn't result in any help… but I didn't want help.

I wanted information.

And so, I lightly probed.

"I was a housemaid." I put a note of defensiveness into my voice. "My lord and his wives were killed in the war and his castle was burned."

She ignored me in favor of unwrapping an addressed parcel – that turned out to contain a peach-colored kimono that, as I had guessed earlier, had been destined for someone else.

"I was taken prisoner in the melee and sold to Master Kyubei." Underneath my defensiveness was actual fear. Seven years ago, if Aki had not rescued me, this might have truly been my fate. I owed him everything. And if this masquerade with Mitsuhide was the way to find him, I needed to stop fighting it, and go all in. "But I'm a trained maid. Please do you know anyone who might need-"

She pinched my arm. "Do you think you were special? All over the country, people are starving. Be grateful you were sold to him, and not one of the dirty foreigners."

"Could… that have actually happened?" I made an effort to sound suitably shocked. Now… now, please give me some useful information, lady.

"It happens all the time." She yanked the brown kimono off me and quickly dressed me in the peach confection. There had been some matching hair pins in the packet as well, but when she unbraided my hair, she looked appalled.

Now she looks appalled. Sex slaves can't shock her. Bad hair can. Good. To. Know.

And my hair was truly awful. It had never recovered from the time Aki's chatelaine chopped the turquoise streaks out of it – and admittedly, I had not helped matters much, by sawing off chunks of hair with my dagger whenever I felt a bit falling into my face.

"What am I going to do with this?" She muttered to herself, then yanked it into a tight knot and shoved the pins in. I imagined that I now looked like a porcupine. A peach porcupine. And given my hair's properties, it would likely succumb to entropy by noon.

Mitsu-Kyubei looked marginally less disgusted at my appearance when we returned. At his expression, pieces of my hair escaped the knot and spronged outward. He scowled at my hair, then turned back to the seamstress. "I will send materials to you. There is a bonus in it for you if you complete the order quickly." To me, he simply offered his arm. "Come along, Kaya."

I gave the seamstress one more not completely faked look of 'help me' (which she ignored), then took his arm. He waited until we were in the street before saying in quiet tones, "Dear me, if that was your idea of obeying me in public, we need to spend some time learning vocabulary."

"I didn't run away, did I?" More hair fell down as a pin bounced off my shoulder and clinked to the ground. "I decided my character Kaya is rebellious and hasn't yet accepted her new life. That in turn allowed me to question the seamstress."

"I stand corrected." He gestured for me to pick up the hairpin. "And what did your rebellious 'charade' yield in terms of information?"

He could stand to be less sarcastic.

I grabbed the hairpin and randomly poked it into my hair. "Not much." It hurt to admit that. "Just that our people are frequently sold to the Nanban… which, we already knew… and she personally finds her life easier if she ignores this and never thinks about it… oh, and besides… you didn't warn me or ask me to give approval on your character either!" I couldn't glare at him because we were in public. "That was disturbing. Where did you pull that character from – because if there's a real-life model for him, I never want to meet him."

"There is and you don't." He steered me around a pile of animal poo that some large beast had left in the street.

I waited for a longer explanation, and when I didn't get one, picked up where I was going with my previous conversation. "I didn't realize that Kyubei-the-merchant was such a …" I searched for a word that would be period appropriate and settled upon, "an abusive employer. Does the real Kyubei know how badly you slaughter his reputation?"

"The real Kyubei, which as it happens, is not his true name either, is happily ensconced in my manor, pretending to be me, and I'm certain he could, if he wanted, do equal damage to mine. He won't, however, as he at least, understands the meaning of obedience." He raised one eyebrow as the hairpin shot out of my hair again. "You cannot be making those fly out on purpose."

"I'm not." I again retrieved the pin and stuck it in my kimono – clearly it was not going to stay put. "My hair is impossible to work with." With perfect timing, the whole knot unraveled, and my hair tumbled past my shoulders in its ragged, uneven glory.

"Do your best to fix that. Kyubei isn't going to play lady's maid in the middle of the street. Or even in," he added, as we entered a fabric merchant's shop. The merchant in question was deeply involved in a conversation with another customer and paid us no attention. "Here."

My best was Katsu's braid, but that wasn't going to be appropriate for Kaya. And since I fully intended to go outside sometimes as Katsu, keeping our hairstyles as different as possible would likely be advisable. With a sigh, and to Mitsuhide's silent condemnation, I grabbed my hair, haphazardly twisted it all up again, randomly sticking the pins in where it felt like it needed help in the structural integrity department.

"A maid would seem to be necessary. However…" He picked up my arm and resumed his 'evil Kyubei' character, just as the Merchant wound up his sale and turned to look at us. "There is the matter of privacy."

Right. A live-in maid would mean we'd have to keep this charade up a lot more. Maybe all the time. Did Mitsuhide even have another bedroom in the townhouse? "Too bad I can't just cut it off."

"Would you be willing to wear a wig?" At what was likely my look of horror, he said, "I thought not," then turned to the merchant. Without bothering to greet the man, he simply pointed to various fabrics. "That one. That one. And bring both of those down. I must examine those more closely."

Since my opinion wasn't needed (or wanted), I took the opportunity to look around. The store was well organized and it looked like – if my very limited knowledge of fabric was anything to go by – the stock was of very high quality. Probably imported from China or India. There even seemed to be some kind of fancy quilted (was that the word?) stuff that looked vaguely European.

Someone in the back of the shop waved impatiently to the merchant, but Mitsuhide was keeping him busy – making him pull out fabrics, them rejecting them all at a closer glance. Finally, the other person, an apprentice, it seemed, approached us to tell the merchant that a ship had recently docked in the harbor, and if he wanted to have his pick of things, he needed to go to Shojumaru's warehouse immediately, before his rivals got there first.

Shojumaru!

The merchant seemed torn, but Mitsu-Kyubei flapped his hands at the pile of fabric and said, "we shall all go. If this warehouse has such high-quality inventory, then I must be the first to see it."

That was the moment that I realized I didn't know what Mitsu-Kyubei's cover story was in terms of his own imports. Obviously not fabric. I asked Mitsuhide himself that very question, as we followed the fabric merchant (whose name, I had finally learned was Tadayo) toward the warehouses that lined the street closest to the docks.

"At the moment, it's lacquerware as an export and spices as an import. The storerooms in the courtyard behind the townhouse are filled with both." He again offered me his arm and I took hold of it easily – it was startling at how quickly we'd fallen into a pattern. "However, I've let it be known that I'm interested in acquiring Nanban muskets."

That was a lot of trouble to go to in order to find two people and I wondered if there was more of a bigger issue behind the search. Then again, Nobunaga certainly had the personal resources to help create the background for this story – easy enough to acquire the spice in Kyoto and repurpose one of his armorers to create the lacquerware. I supposed if I went into the storerooms, I'd find examples of it all artfully staged in case anyone was suspicious enough of Kyubei to check things out.

The interest in muskets though? Was that why Hideyoshi and Mai had been in Sakai? My mind worked through the possibilities. Unfortunately, Mitsuhide was not likely to use me as a sounding board. I should have put "compare notes" in our contract. As a substitute for Aki, Mitsuhide was sadly lacking.

Realizing that Mitsu-Kyubei was making idle small talk with Tadayo, I tuned back into the conversation, just as they were in fact discussing Nobunaga. "Do the rest of the merchants also agree that Oda is a threat to Sakai's self-governance?"

"For years, the Kaigoshu have collected ruled Sakai. We've needed no daimyo. Why then should we bow to the Oda?" Tadayo paused to allow a two-wheeled cart laden with crates to lurch past us.

"Why indeed? I've never tolerated interference in my own affairs." Kyubei sent a glance my way – presumably he was warning Tadayo off me, but given that he was still unhappy over the Kennyo incident from earlier this year, it was an implied threat to me as well. "However, widening the moat appears to be a waste of time and resources, not to mention an unsightly blight upon the landscape."

Tadayo laughed, having apparently gotten past his initial annoyance. "I'm in agreement with you there, Kyubei. But the advantage of self-governance is balanced by the difficulty of getting twenty-odd merchants to come to a decision on anything. Council meetings can be long and contentious – longer now that the Nanban merchants are permitted to attend." He drew to a halt, and I realized we were in front of that warehouse again.

"You invite the foreign barbarians?" There was a note of incredulity in his voice, although I was willing to bet that this was something MItsuhide had known already. In fact, he'd probably been working toward this subject of conversation from the start.

Really… I could… learn a lot from him.

Tadayo gestured for Mitsu-Kyubei to go inside. Unlike yesterday, the warehouse was full of crates, several already open and being inspected. "They do not, of course, have any voting rights or privileges, but we determined that it was most expedient to get their information and thoughts when everyone was already gathered, rather than in fits and starts so that by the time it is all relayed to us, it has changed out of all recognition. Ah, good morning Master Shojumaru."

Shojumaru (for that was indeed the man I had spied on early this morning) had changed clothes – not simply wiped the mud off – since the incident with the mud and the crate, so that my first close view of the man left an impression of crisp cleanliness. Even his white hair seemed to sparkle. When he saw Tadayo, he stepped forward to greet us, and in that moment he and Mitsuhide sized each other up like gladiators in a ring.

From my position clinging to Mitsuhide's arm, I was momentarily ignored, allowing me the position of pure observer. He smiled at us, a polite, friendly smile. Nothing in that smile said, 'I'm dangerous,' in fact, the smile seemed to be going out of the way to suggest the opposite. And yet my pulse sped up like it did when it sensed danger, so much so that Mitsuhide had to have noticed. "Greetings Tadayo, as always you are bright and early to look over the newest arrivals… and whom have you brought with you?

Tadayo introduced Kyubei, stating that the man was interested in purchasing some fabric and would prefer to evaluate the material in person.

After a bow that was right on the line of being ingratiating, Shojumaru said, "Of course. It would be my pleasure."

Although completely innocuous, his words sent another jolt through me, and for a moment the room grew dim, and incredibly warm. My breath caught in my throat, and if I didn't know better, I would think I was having a heart attack.

I did know better.

It was the beginning of a panic attack.

But just because I recognized it, did not mean I had the ability to stop it.

Breathe. Breathe.

This is nothing.

Was it simply being in this warehouse again, the building where I had been trapped five years ago, was enough to bring it all back?

Breathe.

You are safe.

I could hear my heart echoing in my ears.

Not now… not here.