That night, when we left for the house de Sousa had been renting, we traveled on horseback. To be specific, we were to share a horse rather than taking a palanquin. I tried to raise one eyebrow in inquiry, since it seemed odd that Mitsuhide would switch transportation modes.
"My goodness, Kaya, is there something wrong with your face? Or are you attempting, for whatever reason, to imitate a rabbit?" Of course he raised one eyebrow as he said it.
The sixth thing I hate about Mitsuhide. He can raise one eyebrow and won't teach me how.
I sighed and gave up on the nonverbal cue. "No tiny box tonight?"
"On the small chance that we'll need to make a hasty exit, I would prefer not to leave that up to the speed of a palanquin." He gestured to his horse. "Up you go."
My kimono was too narrow for me to hop up with my customary acrobatics, but I managed well enough without ripping anything, although I was left somewhat draped across the horse. "Do you plan to lead me across the city?"
Not dignifying that with a comment, he simply swung up behind me. "I trust you won't fall off."
Given that I was sitting rather (too) snugly against him, I figured it was an unlikely prospect especially when he reached past me for the reins. Not wanting to think about how his body felt, firm and solid against my back, I instead pulled the conversation back to necessary business. "Is this another sit there and be distracting evening, or will I get to use my new toys?" I patted my hair. At Mitsuhide's instructions Sho had placed three knots in it, each secured by one of the hairstick/lockpicks.
"Plans may need to be adjusted based upon the evening. de Sousa has promised some form of 'entertainment,' whatever that might mean to him, which may allow us an opportunity to search through his papers." He spoke directly into my ear, his voice pitched to a low purr that I could hear quite clearly under the sound of the horse's hooves on the hard packed dirt of Sakai's streets. "One hopes that you were underplaying your ability to read the Nanban script."
"I can read it. Not quickly though. It depends on how cramped the handwriting is – Westerners often write letters on top of each other to save on paper." I drew a little plus sign in the air to demonstrate their method of 'crossing pages.' "But I can at least read their alphabet." No need to mention that that learning had taken place in modern Japan. But while I'd taken classes in school on the English language and alphabet, I'd never been particularly great student. Even so, the knowledge from those early lessons had returned when I began taking lessons from Francisco, and motivated by the need to locate my brother, I'd learned far faster as an adult than I ever had as a teenager.
Mitsuhide made a noncommittal sound that indicated he was thinking things through. Likely, he had a plan B, possibly a plan C, and was refining them as we spoke. Aki was much the same. Actually I was as well. Contingencies could make the difference between dead or alive.
I left him to his unspoken plotting. It was interesting how he seemed to be able to lock his thoughts and feelings away and completely focus like this. While I still felt off balance and uncertain after last night's argument, for Mitsuhide, it appeared to be done and over with. He was as ambivalently autocratic to me as he had been on the first day in Sakai. In fact, neither yesterday's argument nor that night last week when it had seemed like we'd accepted overtures of mutual friendship had made any dent at all his this personal armor. Or maybe they had, but he'd simply replaced the armor with something stronger.
While I was glad to leave the fight with dust, I regretted losing those moments of peace and understanding.
de Sousa's townhouse was not very far from Mitsuhide's (we easily could have walked, were it not for our need to stay in character). Like the one Mitsuhide was using, the building was longer than it was wide, with a storefront that abutted the street. Unfortunately for de Sousa the rear of the house was against the town's moat, and the fragrance that arose from it suggested some of Sakai citizens used it as a toilet.
I didn't realize I was wrinkling my nose in response to the smell, until Mitsuhide stared at me, and tapped his own nose.
Whoops.
Carefully, I wiped my face of all expression, aware that Mitsuhide was watching as I did so. He nodded approvingly as Kaya's bland mask slid into place, and then undid all my work by noting, "One would hope we won't be required to employ the moat as part of that quick exit."
Oh gross.
He gave me that smirk, and I wondered if his lack of tastebuds also extended to a lack of an olfactory system. Although if that was the case, why did he habitually burn cinnamon and sandalwood?
I was still trying to blank out my face again when a servant appeared. The servant let us inside, escorting us through a semi-exposed courtyard, past the offices and storehouses, and up to de Sousa's living quarters on the second floor. The narrow rooms weren't really adequate for any sort of entertaining, so, rumors of a 'banquet' had been greatly exaggerated. No more than dozen other people had been invited, including, to my surprise, Yoshimoto. If I got a free moment later, I would have to ask him how he had managed that. He'd probably just say that an Imagawa does not need to manage.
de Sousa had made an attempt to create a Western style dining atmosphere, by pushing several long, tables into one big rectangle. But without a way to raise the tables to waist level, and without any Western chairs, there wasn't any other choice but to eat kneeling, the traditional Japanese way.
Mitsuhide was seated next to de Sousa, and across from Shojumaru, who claimed that he would be helping to translate anything, if needed (via some careful eavesdropping, I learned de Sousa's Jesuit translator - a.k.a that murderous priest - had been sent to one of the Southernmost islands). Apparently de Sousa wasn't certain what to do with me, the only female present, but 'Kyubei' got his Yandere on and stated that he refused to let me out of his sight amongst all these other men.
Upon being asked by de Sousa to translate that, Shojumaru told him that Kyubei wanted his whore close to him, because he didn't trust other men around her.
Ok. Ouch.
Whore.
See if I run interference between you and Sho any more.
The final result of that interaction had me seated between Mitsuhide and Yoshimoto, and across from Shojumaru, ready to pick up on any information spoken in Portuguese. But if Mitsuhide thought that the dinner table discussion would offer him any information on Hideyoshi, or Mai, or the missing weapons, he would be disappointed with what I overheard. While I dutifully tuned in to the conversation for any non-translated threats or other dangers, what I got was a conversation about art (which explained Yoshimoto's presence, as the man enthusiastically took part in a long discussion of Italian masters).
In the meantime, what should be done about the mound of stew in my bowl? It was some heavy meat based thing, smelled somewhat gamey - not off, exactly, but to someone like myself, who prefers a plant based diet whenever possible, it was difficult to choke down. Idly, I noticed that Shojumaru wasn't eating his either. Oh he was going through the motion of lifting his food to his mouth, but eventually it ended up back in a dish. Had someone poisoned the food?
Hm. No one else had any problems with the meal, so maybe Shojumaru was also a vegetarian. It was possible he was a strict buddahist, as some sects did recommend a no-meat diet. Mitsuhide had no difficulty with his serving of glop, but then it probably reminded him of his own cooking.
"What do you think, Miss Kaya?" Startled, I realized that Shojumaru had addessed me. "Senhor de Sousa wants to know if you are interested in art?"
"Oh. Um. I don't know much about it." Which was true about both myself, and Kaya. While a courtesan likely would be able to intelligently converse about all forms of the arts, I was pretty sure that everyone was aware that Kaya had been a peasant sold into slavery. It would not be surprising for a peasant to be ignorant of art and culture. "But Master Kyubei is teaching me all sorts of interesting things about books and drawings."
Shojumaru translated that accurately to de Sousa, who then responded with something extremely crude. Thankfully, I'm not easy to blush, but my pulse must have jumped, because Mitsuhide gave me a quick glance. Then again, it could be because one of the words de Sousa used was familiar in any language. Even Yoshimoto looked displeased when he heard it.
Once again Shojumaru smoothly erased de Sousa's crudity, saying diplomatically that no knowledge is wasted.
At this point Mitsuhide-Kyubei entered the conversation. "This one was an ignorant char when I purchased her. I find it far more satisfying to teach someone how to respond to my suggestions, what to think about the world of art, how to behave and to obey my desires. It's actually faster than retraining a stubborn woman's badly learned habits." He turned and laid a possessive hand on my arm. "She responds to tutelage admirably."
Gee thanks Professor Higgins. Glad to know you're growing accustomed to my face.
He wasn't finished yet. "It is lovely to take a wild thing, domesticate it and know it is your creation."
While Shojumaru rapidly translated this for the Nanban, Yoshimoto chose this moment to rise to Kaya's defense. "I find it more satisfying to meet a woman who can teach me something. Passionate arguments are more exciting than blind obedience."
Which, thank you Yoshimoto for the defense, but your timing sucks. Thanks to him, I hadn't been able to hear what de Sousa and Shojumaru were saying. Had Yoshimoto forgotten that he was responding to a creature who was just a character Mitsuhide was portraying? Or was he simply behaving as he would normally? I couldn't even reassure him that everything was fine, not here.
"Passionate arguments are fine, as long as one wins them." Mitsuhide addressed Yoshimoto for the first time. "The greatest victory is to take the sword of defeated opponent as they fall to their knees and swear fealty to you.''
That... apparently had a double meaning for Yoshimoto, who flinched at Mitsuhide's sudden intense stare. Shojumaru now sent a rather inscrutable look our way as well, and the increased tension in the air felt choking. If I had not been disguised, I would have tried to change the subject, or defuse things somehow - but Kaya wasn't the forthright type. In character, I could only stare at my bowl while the gamey smell of meat added to an overall feeling of illness.
Finally de Sousa, who must have simply wanted to be the center of attention, clapped his hands, and announced he had hired a theatrical troupe to perform dances for the evening. Within moments, a house servant had silently cleared the table, and rearranged the room with a mocked up performance space at the far end.
A group of musicians and dancers emerged from the top floor – had they been sitting up there waiting all night? Hopefully someone had managed to get them some food… but I doubted de Sousa would have thought of it. Then again, given what we'd just been fed, the entertainers were probably better off.
Though the musicians weren't loud enough to be distracting, the dancers were beautiful, and wore exquisite jewel toned dresses with even brighter embroidery that sparkled in the lantern light. Their movements were slow, but hypnotic, and after that heavy meal, no one seemed inclined to do anything by sit and watch.
During the great rearrangement, Mitsuhide and I had positioned ourselves near the stairs to the ground floor, and while the rest of the guests were enthralled by the dancers, we slipped out of the room and tiptoed down the steps.
As we skirted around the edge of the courtyard, something splashed my sleeve. I glanced up to the exposed sky, just as Mitsuhide said, "Good. Rain. That is auspicious." He sounded like he was talking to himself, so I didn't ask why he thought that was so. Maybe the sound of the rain on the tile roof would cover up any noise we made.
I followed him into the room de Sousa had set up as an office, or, well a private study of sorts. The only difference between de Sousa's office and the one that Mitsuhide was using in our own dwelling, was that he, like Francisco, (and, for that matter Aki) had somehow managed to lug a Western style desk into the room – then again, maybe Aki and Francisco had transported theirs in via the wormhole or something. Or maybe there was some ship that only carried furniture from one county to another so that their merchants could have some place familiar to sit.
Surprisingly, de Sousa's desk was not kept locked, which was a disappointing because I wanted to try out my new toys. Either he had nothing to hide or, more likely, he didn't believe anyone here would be sophisticated enough to investigate him. Mitsuhide opened a drawer and removed a small stack of scrolls and letters written on the heavier western parchment. "One hopes that you'll find these readable."
It was an intimidating pile. "What are the odds that we can bring some of these home? Er, back to the town house." It was not home.
"I have no knowledge of how he has these categorized or whether he would notice something missing, but it's best to cause as little disturbance as possible. Keep everything in the same order." At his borderline mansplain, I considered pointing out that I had searched his room without disturbing anything, but since that would probably prompt another argument, I held my tongue. "I suggest you scan each one for key words until you can confirm whether it is business or personal. I will stand guard." He moved to the doorway stayed there like a sentinel.
As that seemed like a workable plan, I quickly settled into a rhythm for the project. The letters on western parchment were all written on a feminine hand, and proved to be from his 'dearest Paloma.' I flipped through those with only a cursory glance. Mixed in with the personal letters were inventory lists, shipping records, even a few papers that looked like invoices, which potentially could pinpoint a time period and date the weapons were due to arrive. "Do you know about when de Sousa pulled back the shipment? Most of these are dated."
He gave me an approving nod – my question must have merit. "Mid to late seventh month. At least that was when we learned of it. However things might have been moving behind the scenes prior to that." He spoke quietly, the majority of his attention was on the door.
Just to be safe, I skipped past any correspondence prior to 'Iunius.' I couldn't remember what year the Portuguese had switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian, but neither one corresponded to the Japanese lunar cycle anyway. Once I found the correspondence in the likeliest window of time, I read the letters more carefully. One shipping document referenced "Nofunga" Oda - that must be the initial order, or at least a confirmation of sale. At that point in time, it seemed that de Sousa still intended to fulfill the request. Another letter, also mentioned Oda, but only in passing - speculating on whether or not he would contend to allow self-governance of Sakai, and if not, would it be useful to send a party to negotiate with him directly.
Interesting, but not what I was looking for.
And then I found it.
Correspondence from Shojumaru, offering to broker a deal for weapons, to be supplied to Motonari Mouri in exchange for silver provided by Kanamori Iekane.
The page blurred in front of my eyes.
Iekane.
Iekane. Even though the last name was different – he was no longer using Aki's – it had to be the same man. Of course he was in this. Maybe he'd been so since that day five years ago when he locked me in a crate among one of Motonari's weapon shipments.
"What is it, brat? You're staring at that letter as if it's going to eat you.'' Mitsuhide's voice broke into my reverie /panic. Same difference at this point.
"It's confirmation that-"
A loud squeak interrupted me. The sound a staircase makes as it protests the weight of travel. This was followed by the clatter of footsteps, and voices. de Sousa, talking about some ceramics he wanted to show off.
In one smooth motion, Mitsuhide slid shut the door to the office and was across the room while I was registering the noise… and the implication. He swept the stack of correspondence back into the drawer, then lifted me up and plopped me on top of the desk. "This is not the time to protest my next action, as we are about to become extremely visible to the rest of tonight's guests."
"Huh? Shouldn't we just hid-"
That was all I got out before Mitsuhide kissed me.
While my brain was still processing the sudden liplock, Mitsuhide pulled me closer, until his leg was between mine (or as between as my narrow kimono would allow). I swallowed a protest, knowing that this was a performance, part of our agreement to show public affection. Not real.
How does one fake act a kiss? Should I close my eyes? Ok, yes, probably, Kaya would have her eyes closed. Commencing eye closure.
It wasn't a terrible kiss, as sudden, barely warned kisses go. Not that I would know. But he could have made things unpleasant for me, especially given the character he had established as Kyubei. It could have been overly intrusive, or panful, or oppressive, or gross, or-
He broke away and slid his mouth toward my ear. "This would go much better, if you could at least pretend to participate. With enthusiasm, if at all possible."
Director's notes? Now?
Although he did have a point. I took a deep breath, prepared to channel my inner Meryl Streep. "You surprised me. Give me a moment to catch up, all right?"
The clatter of footsteps and murmur of voices grew closer.
After a split second in which Mitsuhide was either praying for patience, or counting to ten (he just had a sort of 'give strength' look in his eyes), he placed his hand on my cheek, and slowly dipped in for another kiss.
This new kiss, he took his time. His lips gently glided across mine, his embrace keeping me easily balanced on the desk. The gentleness did what the surprise could not, and a previous unknown voice inside me went, 'more!' and before I knew it, it stopped feeling like an act of theatricality, and started feeling like an act of mutal desire.
His body was all lean muscle and kinetic strength – I wanted to feel that strength on my skin, to slip my hand under his clothing and savor the texture of his flesh, to savor the vibration of his heartbeat beneath my palm, a vibration that echoed in my ears. I pressed myself closer before any logic could overrule action, grinding my hips against his, opening my mouth to his tongue.
Someone moaned… was that him?
Please don't let that have been me.
Then annoyed voices from the corridor intruded and Mitsuhide finally ended the kiss, though he did not let me go. He turned to face de Sousa, Shojumaru, Yoshimoto, and a Japanese merchant whose name I had not caught. They were all staring at us from the now open doorway. I hid my face in his shoulder in not entirely feigned embarrassment.
Cinnamon and sandalwood.
"What the hell are you doing in my private office?" The words were in Portuguese but there was no mistaking the intent behind them.
Mitsuhide didn't bother to wait for someone to translate, he simply proclaimed, "My toy was looking so lovely tonight, I simply had to be alone with her. But the rain chased us out of the garden."
Toy. It was as if the wall to the courtyard opened up and the cold rain had splashed all over me. Right. Acting.
I knew he did not truly consider me a toy. I also knew that the kiss had simply been part of the performance, one that had needed us to at least look like we could not keep our hands off each other. So that's… what method acting is. I guess I do have an inner Meryl Streep after all. Acting. I had been acting too.
Without switching from that conversational tone, Mitsuhide patted the desk. "This furniture is perfectly stable. Can someone procure one for me?"
de Sousa waited for Shojumaru to translate that, but even with the benefit of the translation, he still looked irate. His response was something along the lines of if Kyubei wanted to turn his house into a brothel then he ought to have brought more women, or at least offered to share.
I wondered if Shojumaru was going to translate that back into Japanese, but whether or not he would have done so was destined to remain a mystery, for Yoshimoto stepped forward to play diplomat. "Senhor de Sousa, perhaps you could show us those ceramics from China now."
After one final look of envy, de Sousa shepherded the group toward the storehouses, but Shojumaru continued to eye us. He didn't say anything, and that overly friendly smile stayed on his face, but there was a hardness in his eyes now.
As Mitsuhide helped me off the desk, Shojumaru's gaze went to its surface. Scanning for incriminating papers maybe? Thank the Gods that Mitsuhide had managed to get de Sousa's correspondence back into the drawer before initiating that 'seven minutes in heaven' act.
"I take it it's too much to hope that de Sousa will allow us to use his bedroom?" Without waiting for a response, Mitsuhide bowed to them. "In that case, we shall return home, as I am hungry for a different sort of meal. Kaya, you may let go of me.''
Trust him to point out that my hand was clinging to the front of his kimono.
Right.
Disengage grappling hook.
I let go, and followed him out the door, aware that this was probably one of those fast exits he had warned me about.
Hopefully… not in through the moat.
My senses had already been through enough this night.