Breathe. Breathe.
If I didn't get myself under control, this charade was going to have an immediate expiration date.
My hand spasmed on Mitsuhide's arm, and he spared a quick look at me – as sensitive to physical cues as he was, he had to be aware that my heart was galloping. "Kaya! If you are about to be ill, please do not soil my clothing!"
Shojumaru looked equally appalled.
"This sorry creature is not yet accustomed to rich food or vast quantities of sake." Mitsu-Kyubei made a little shooing motion. "Go stand by the door. If you are sick, aim for the street."
The accusation of a hangover was harsh, and of course, untrue, but I suppose it would be a reasonable excuse to Tadayo and Shojumaru. It was also probably Mitsuhide's way of getting me out of the situation without breaking character. Nor would I argue with an escape route. I relocated to the doorway and took in gulps of fresh dock air. In other words, it kind of stunk of fish.
But at least the ocean breeze was strong. Closing my eyes, I mentally placed myself in the mountains, imagining a clean swath of snow, a fresh trail, and the feeling of being on a snowboard, slaloming down a steep hill. The sea air was mountain air, and I could control each turn with only a slight recentering of my body. Here, I could achieve peac-
"Princess, are you ill?"
A concerned voice pulled me out of my daydream, and I opened my eyes…
Oh shit.
Yoshimoto?
The shock of seeing a familiar face – a person who had only met me as the courier Katsu - did as much to push away the panic as the fresh air. "Thank you for asking, sir. I was simply enjoying the breeze."
He turned his fine-boned face in the direction of the wind, letting it ruffle his hair. He didn't appear to be convinced about the breeze, but, it also didn't appear that he had connected 'Kaya' with 'Katsu'.
Ok. He doesn't recognize me.
Or he's smart enough not to blow my cover.
"It is a sad state of affairs when a lovely young lady would rather look at a dirty street than at silks and brocades." He waved his hand elegantly (even my tiny acquaintance with him had been enough to learn that Yoshimoto did everything elegantly) toward the interior of the warehouse. "I've heard that Shojumaru is able to acquire the best imported fabric in the city… but is that not the case?"
"My opinion wasn't required, and as I am new to this city, I wanted to take in the scenery." Not a great cover story, as there wasn't much scenery, but a simple village girl like Kaya would find Sakai new and exciting.
"Kaya!" Mitsu-Kyubei strolled over and put a possessive hand on my arm. "Making friends so quickly?" He turned to Yoshimoto and once again flashed that feral smile. "My new toy hasn't yet learned that what is mine stays mine until it breaks." Without another word, he steered me back to the main conversation, leaving Yoshimoto to stare at our backs.
Well. That was rude. But… that was likely the point. If Mitsuhide and Yoshimoto had ever met before (and they probably had done so) then Mitsuhide would probably want to put as much physical and emotional real estate between himself and Yoshimoto as possible. For that matter, I would be wise to get out of range as well. While I, or rather 'Katsu', had only met Yoshimoto twice, our second meeting had been somewhat recently, when I ran into him and my ninja pal Sasuke on my courier route.
It's too bad I was currently in disguise, because it would be nice to be able to send Sasuke a message. Then again, Yoshimoto, in those bright silks and even brighter beauty, was as conspicuous as a K-pop idol in a shopping mall. If I wanted to find him later, I'm sure I could.
That was for later. Apparently for now, my task was to stand by, and pretend to be interested while Mitsuhide picked out Kaya's wardrobe for the coming days.
Since Shojumaru was only the middleman here and not a fabric dealer, the process of choosing materials involved a lot of opening crates to determine what colors and patterns were contained inside. Still, Mitsu-Kyubei proclaimed himself satisfied with the fabrics and before long a pile of pastel silks lay before him. So very… insipid.
Maybe Mitsuhide was trying to smother my rebellion in color theory.
"Also… this one." He gestured to a beautiful turquoise silk with a faint dye pattern of blue, green, and aquamarine butterflies. For the first time that morning, I didn't have to pretend I liked the fabric… I loved it.
Ok, that one I will happily wea-
"Hm, yes, this will do nicely for a new haori coat for myself," Mitsuhide continued.
"If you were mine," a seductive voice whispered into my ear, as Mitsuhide made arrangements for the fabrics to be sent directly to the seamstress, "I would have you dressed in jewel tones. I am of course, staying at the honjin should you wish to discuss it further."
I knew that suggestive proposition had come from Yoshimoto, but by the time I turned my head, he had glided to the other side of the room to examine a recently opened crate. He glanced back over his shoulder at me, and a tiny smile curled at the corners of his mouth.
I don't want to be anyone's!
"Come along, Kaya." With a final nod to Shojumaru and Tadayo, Mitsuhide guided me out of the warehouse. Once we were outside, he did that now-familiar single eyebrow raise… oh, ok, this was a double eyebrow. "What happened back there?" Mitsuhide's physicality was still in the evil-Kyubei persona, but his voice had reverted to that familiar teasing register. As we were still technically in public, but out of hearing range, both made sense.
In the last moment, I decided I'd be better off pretending ignorance of Yoshimoto's identity. "Some high caste Prince on the hunt for a new concubine."
"That, my dear brat, I could see for myself." He patted my arm. It was almost a paternal gesture, and one that was over so quickly that I thought I had imagined it. "I was referring to the moment that you nearly fainted. Is anything wrong?"
He was probably worried that I would mess things up before we'd even started. And though I was a reluctant partner in this, I was determined to see it through. This stupid weakness of mine would not ruin things. "Nothing to worry about. I'm just hungry." As if to help add to the verisimilitude of something that wasn't even a lie (exactly), my stomach growled.
Despite the well-timed protest from my insides, Mitsuhide looked like he didn't believe me. But all he said was, "Kyubei stocked the kitchen in the machiya before he left for Azuchi. I imagine you'll be able to find something to placate the oni currently residing in your belly."
By the end of the day, I not only had a new wardrobe in progress, but I also had a personal maid (Mitsuhide had come to the inescapable conclusion that dealing with my hair was not ever going to part of my skill set). He'd managed to locate a local girl, Sho, who was happy to work days only, then return to her mother's, as apparently she was helping to care for her younger siblings.
Sho happened to be one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen, with big green eyes, perfect skin, and shiny dark hair. If she was an advertisement for her own services, then I was probably in the right hands. Unfortunately, she was a bit on the young side, and very much inclined to chatter all day about nothing. Maybe it was her age, or maybe there was truly not much there.
By the time she had left for the evening, after promising to return the following morning with all kinds of Sengoku era hair tools (normally I would worry about what exactly was included in the Sengoku hair tool set – but they could hardly make my hair look worse), I was exhausted by her enthusiasm. "Where did she come from again?" I asked Mitsuhide as he gestured to a pot of stew that he'd thrown together.
Literally. Thrown. Together.
"Please, partake. I could hear your stomach demanding food even over Sho's monologue." He handed me an empty bowl. "As for the maid, I had her direction from Shojumaru. Apparently one of her siblings works for him."
"Shojumaru suggested her? Couldn't that mean she's a spy?" Surely Mitsuhide had considered that possibility. "And, seriously, if you are going to fill your house with spies, why not hire a cook too? Because you… can't." I looked down at the pot of… fruits, vegetables, a mystery meat that I really didn't want to examine the provenance of too closely and wondered why and how he'd been inspired to toss it all into one dish then season it with fish sauce and what smelled like curry.
Completely oblivious to the taste, Mitsuhide was chowing down with gusto. "Dear me, are you questioning my cooking skills?"
"It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact." No wonder Sho had run out of here so quickly. She'd probably been afraid that we would feed her.
"You are more than welcome to take over the cooking." He gestured toward the firepit. "As for Sho… of course she's a spy, although an unwitting one. But as long as we feed her the information we want Shojumaru to have, then we're ahead of him."
"I hope the information tastes better than this." I dumped the remainder of my dinner in his bowl and got up to forage. I wasn't much of a cook myself, but since he obviously had no taste buds, I had no choice. Whatever I cooked wouldn't have much imagination, but it would be edible. "You've determined that Shojumaru is involved in this somehow?"
Hm, I could manage a quick soup with the veggies and these leftover noodles.
"I have determined nothing – but it's prudent to view every person as dangerous until proven otherwise." He looked at his bowl and threw in a few pieces of dried fruit (that I had assumed was to be his dessert, but maybe not). He turned the question back on me. "You seem convinced of his guilt. Any particular reason?"
Thrilled that he'd asked my opinion, I said, "No reason besides the fact that he's too aggressively pleasant."
"As logic, that lacks a bit of evidence, but I'll let that go." Mitsuhide then spoiled the tiny bit of good feeling I had toward him by announcing that he was going out. "Can you be trusted to actually stay put, or shall I chain you to the wall?"
Of course, he couldn't trust me, but on this occasion, my plans for the night required that I stay in. Not that I could let him know that. "If you're worried, take me with you."
He flipped from teasing to authorative – which I now understood meant he wasn't in the mood to banter over rules. "Do not leave this building. I will know and it will not go well for you."
"I have every intention of staying in." If I gave him my patented 'I'm innocent and naïve' look, he'd probably become suspicious, but I did add, "I promise."
"If you get bored, might I suggest that you clean up the cooking area? We don't want bugs." And with that, he was gone.
Briefly I considered ignoring that suggestion. But I happened to agree that bugs were not welcome, and so I put my maid training to good use, cleaned up the dishes, washed out the pot, and banked the coals on the brazier. Besides, if he were planning to come back and check on me, he would see that I was cleaning the kitchen like a good little Cinderella.
Once the dishes were clean, the floor was washed, and all the food was put away… and more importantly the coast was clear, I set about my true goal for the evening: finding Aki's letter.
It was not, unfortunately, in Mitsuhide's desk – which was both unlocked and relatively empty of anything interesting beyond a few padlocks.
Huh, perhaps that chained to the wall threat was real.
Nor could I find a lockbox of any sort in the office. Which meant, he was either keeping the letter on his person, or in the bedroom.
Hopefully, the latter.
He hadn't said how long he would be away, and the consequences of getting caught in his room would likely be humiliating, and potentially painful. Yes. Painful. I pushed away the memory of Mitsuhide telling me that he used pleasure as punishment.
But. It was my letter and it might even have a clue of sorts.
As with the office, Mitsuhide's bedroom was scrupulously neat – I would need to be extremely careful not to disturb a thing, and to put everything back exactly where I had found it. A faint smell of that cinnamon and sandalwood incense and a fainter odor of sake clung to the edges of the room – I could see a half-empty bottle of it sitting on a shelf.
Also on the shelf… a puzzle box, and a fairly large one at that. Large enough to easily contain my letter. These boxes were just beginning to make their way into the country, but they wouldn't become common for at least another century (at which point, some of the best puzzle box craftsmen would be domestic). But being from another century myself, I knew what it was, and more importantly, how to open them.
I sat down on the floor (less likely to crease the bedding on his futon) and experimented until I managed press the series of levers and disks in the correct order. The hidden drawer slid open, revealing my letter, and, underneath that - a tobacco pipe and a lock of reddish-brown hair. Hm. I idly wondered whose hair that was. Who was important enough to him that he would save a bit of their hair in a keepsake box? Did Mitsuhide have a lost love?
Not that it matters.
Or that I care.
Of course, the hair could belong to anyone he had felt close to – a relative, even.
But this was not the time to be distracted. I left the personal items in the drawer and turned my attention to Aki's letter. He'd written it in code – a special cipher that he and I had devised together. On one hand, this was good, because I doubted it would be one that would be easy for Mitsuhide to break. On the other hand, I was going to have to waste time decoding it.
My very dear child-
Are you surprised by the greeting? I'm afraid you are in for a few more surprises, for… and I hate to begin a letter with the very cliched 'if you are reading this something has happened to me.' However, that must be the case. I am sorry to be telling this to you in a letter, but I could never find the courage to tell you in person. In another timeline, my young acquaintance Mister Mikumo once said that you deserve your Cloud City moment.
Mikumo? Who is Mikumo? I momentarily pondered that before the implications of "Cloud City" hit me.
The Empire Strikes Back.
Vader to Luke Skywalker… "No. I am your father."
Was Aki hinting that he was - But that… wasn't possible. I had been born nearly 450 years from now and Aki was of this era.
Except, Aki just alluded to a movie that had been made in the twentieth century.
Aki was not native to this time either… or if he was, he'd visited modern Japan at some point. During which time, he apparently been involved with my mother.
I wish I could give you the details, but even now there is the possibility that someone else may find and eventually decode this correspondence.
Thanks, Mitsuhide.
I'll simply say that Francisco and I traveled here together.
Francisco? Really? The man couldn't get from one end of Sakai to the other, and yet he'd managed to time travel 450 years into the past?
If you want to know the story of how your mother and I met and fell in love, ask him, for he was witness to all much of it. Should you decide that you want to make you way back to modern Japan (and… you may not wish to do so after you finish reading this), find Mister Mikumo – who you know as the ninja Sarutobi Sasuke. Sasuke also travelled here, separate from myself, and can help you.
Why Sasuke and not Francisco? Francisco has travelled as an observer of events, but he lacks the understanding of how to make the journey on his own. Additionally, for private reasons, he prefers to settle here permanently. If you elect to return home, the information below will help you in setting up a new life, or resuming your old one. Consider it your trust fund.
The "information below" appared to be a bank account number and password.
However, just as Francisco has his reasons, I am requesting that you stay here. There is an important mission, a vital one that –
Outside, a horse whinnied.
Mitsuhide was back.
Shit…. Shit… I shuttered the lantern – hopefully he hadn't looked up to this window. Luckily the moon was full and provided enough light for me to carefully replace the letter and put the box back exactly where I had found it.
I'd considered keeping the letter, but – I didn't want Mitsuhide to realize I had found his super secret squirrel hiding place, reclaim the letter, and force me to find it again. No. I would just have to sneak back in at some point to read the rest.
After a quick eyeball of the room to make certain nothing was out of place, I slipped into the corridor…
…Just as Mitsuhide appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Dear me. Has a naughtly little thief been lurking in my chambers?"
The third thing I hate about Mitsuhide – his timing.