"Now, the further you turn this, the warmer the water is." I glanced over my shoulder to see if Mitsuhide was tracking the instructions, just in time to notice that he was looking at me, and not the plumbing.
Or perhaps I should say he was looking at my plumbing area, which very likely was visible below my bath towel. I raised both eyebrows at him and he winked. "You are a rather undeniable temptation."
While it would have been nice to stay cocooned on the couch all day, eventually practicalities intruded. I introduced Mitsuhide to modern kitchen appliances, laughed as he spent five minutes turning off and on the lights in syncopated rhythm, fed him breakfast (well, it was lunch at that point), and now we were having a crash course in water management 101.
While running water was a concept he could get behind, he seemed not at all interested in temperature control, or the intricacies of how it worked from the source. "I presume there are people whose jobs there are to know specifically how it fits together, but at the moment, I'm only concerned with using it in its designated function." He stuck his hand under the stream of water.
I twisted the level to make it warmer, and when he didn't comment, I left it at that temperature. "On that note, I guess you're an easier visitor than Shingen. He's driving Sasuke crazy by taking everything apart to see how it works."
"You spend a lot of time with them?" That unfamiliar tone was back in his voice. I don't believe that he was actually jealous – just that there was enough history between the Oda and the Takeda-Uesugi alliance to mean that I had been hanging out with the enemy.
Lowering the conversational temperature back to casual, I said, "They're the only people I know here since I prefer not to become close friends with anyone who will worry when I blip back into the past. So maybe let's consider this time a neutral zone, and you can go back to trying to kill him when we return to the Sengoku era."
What happens in modern Japan, stays in modern Japan.
He didn't reply, but simply surveyed the pattern of water as it streamed down the walls of the postage stamp size stall. "So um, anyway, this is wasting water, so I'll leave you to it…" I trailed off as he swiftly tossed away his clothes and stepped in.
He was so beautiful with the water flowed down his body, outlining every contour of his muscles. I know I had just spent the night and morning with that body, with this man, but I would never take that beauty for granted.
He raised that one eyebrow, smirked, and crooked his finger at me. "You did say something about needing to conserve water.
I had said that, yes. "There's no room- eek!"
He reached out and pulled me in, bath towel and all. "My love, there is always room for you, no matter where I am." He undid the now soaking towel and tossed it into the sink. Now there was little between us but water, and even that evaporated to steam when he wrapped his arms around me.
"Kitsune, I am not opposed to shower sex in concept, but we need a bigger…" My back would probably slide down the side and I'd hit my head and drown…
He rotated me away from him and I grabbed the towel bar for stability. "Hold on to that. I imagine that is what it was placed there for."
Yeah, I'm not going to speculate on what Sasuke's parents do in the shower, thanks for that mental picture.
He reached around to cup my breasts, and then I felt his teeth nipping at the side of my neck. "Oh God, we're going to die."
We did not die during shower sex… not any of the times we tried it.
Nor did Shingen and Mitsuhide attempt to kill each other when the four of us got together. Oh, the two of them would never become good friends – they were too much alike in the wrong ways, not to mention too different in every other way – but they managed mutual politeness during a meal that Sasuke and I cooked. That got upgraded to professional respect when they discussed the Yoshiaki and Motonari threats, which then devolved again to a cutthroat game of Catan that had both Sasuke and I eliminated within the first hour.
My moderately awesome ninja buddy and I watched the game from the sidelines for a little while before we both decided it would be safer to retreat to watching Picard (neither Shingen nor Mitsuhide had gotten into sci-fi, as travelling over 450 years into their future was sci-fi enough for both of them).
During the weeks as we counted down the time before the Togakushi wormhole manifestation, we all made the most of our time. Aside from breaking in the shower (and the breakfast bar, which Mitsuhide and I discovered was set at a very convenient height) we did actually emerge from the house every day to explore modern Kyoto. Mitsuhide decided that since this was more or less an enforced vacation, he would spend his time pursuing the interests that generally got pushed to the side amidst all the war councils, interrogations, and spying: live theater and music.
While I never could convince him to give K-pop - or any rock music for that matter – a chance, he did discover an appreciation for jazz. An unfortunate appreciation, since I disliked that sort of music. At least we were able to have a lively and ongoing debate over the merits of both, which usually devolved into mutual distraction.
Even though we always had a lovely time wandering through Kyoto in winter, my favorite part of the days were our evenings. I could be as cutthroat about Shogi and he and Shingen had been over Catan, and it was as much fun trying to outthink him and it was to distract him. I never won… though I came close twice.
Nor had I neglected my personal mission to organize the Mikumos' library (with their permission). When they returned they would find everything neatly filed and cross referenced both in a database, and also in a hard copy notebook. Unfortunately, even after spending a couple of hours a day digging through their archives, I hadn't discovered much about my father. True, Sasuke's mother had kept a journal during that time which pinpointed when Aki and Francisco entered their lives, as well as what the two were studying, but otherwise the journal was pretty dry.
"Discover anything useful?" Mitsuhide wandered into the room with two cups of tea. I gratefully took it. Though he still couldn't cook, he made a damn good cup of tea. I took a sip… and promptly burned my tongue. Good tea, but very hot tea. I fanned my mouth. He tsked. "The hazards of impatience, Brat… shall I kiss it to make it better?"
"Cute." Not that I would ever turn down a kiss, even though it did threaten to throw me off track for the rest of the afternoon. Once we broke apart, I pulled out Professor Mikumo's journal and read her description of Francisco. "We're hosting a Portuguese exchange student who is very interested in Sengoku trade routes and any attempts by the explorers to influence politics. Or rather that was what the letter from his academic advisor stated. Unfortunately, this young man's grasp on our language is tenuous at best, and as no one here speaks Portuguese, all of our work becomes delayed as we try to discuss everything in sign language."
Mitsuhide politely nodded. "Yes, it is his lack of understanding that led to the most fascinating purchase of my life." He tapped his lips, and followed that up by kissing me again. Mm. We were in danger of taking the afternoon off (again… it was last week's work derailment that had led us to discover that the breakfast bar was the right height for eating… something that's not actually food). No… this is important. I hadn't even told him yet about that priest. "Francisco."
"Dear me, have you forgotten my identity so quickly?" I shall have to give you a refresher on that topic." He slid next to me and pulled me onto his lap.
I stopped his hands before they could make their way under my shirt. "I think he… or the priest who tried to buy me… might have been the one who shot Aki in 1578."
To his credit, Mitsuhide immediately flipped into business mode. "On what evidence?"
Er. Well. "For Francisco, gut feeling, mostly. He had gun in his desk when I took the letter… and it was not there the next time I looked." Before Mitsuhide could devil's advocate me out of that, I added, "He's been in Japan, both modern and Sengoku for over ten years, and yet he still hasn't learned the language?"
"He could indeed be that incompetent." By now, I knew that Mitsuhide wasn't necessarily disagreeing with me – he was merely pointing out where I needed stronger proof.
"Ok, yes, sure. But it seems to me that whatever missions there were to send people like Aki back in time – they would have wanted the best." But why had Aki never questioned Francisco's language deficiencies? It seemed a critical error on his part, an error from someone who usually didn't make errors. Unless Aki was well aware that Francisco was faking it, and pretending not to know in order to watch him? But if that were the case why give Francisco the letter for me? Ugh, I was confusing myself. Still, I needed to at least get everything out on the table before Mitsuhide started poking holes in my already shaky theory. "Suppose everything Francisco did was not incompetence, but a charade. He never intended to rescue me at the auction. But if his plan failed, he could fall back on his idiot disguise."
If I reframed my view of everything Francisco had done, it could all have a sinister interpretation.
And here came Mr. Logic. "Was not the slave auction your idea to begin with?"
"It was. Francisco just took advantage of the opportunity I gave him." But Mitsuhide was correct. I had brought the idea to Francisco and basically blackmailed him into it.
"Hm, and we won't be doing anything like that again now will we?" The 'royal we' had returned. His arms tightened around me. "Now, you said something about the priest? I did interrogate him rather thoroughly, and he had no connection to the disappearances."
Had I been mistaken in identifying the priest as the man who watched my gymnastics competition? I pulled the computer closer and tabbed into youtube. "Look at this." Mitsuhide was quiet, intent as the video played. When the camera angle switched to show the priest, I paused and pinch zoomed it onto his face. "Same man?"
He leaned closer. "It is possible. The hat makes it difficult to be one hundred percent certain." He frowned, and it seemed there was some anger being directed inward. "Though perhaps that is me not wanting to believe that my interrogation technique to be infallible. I should have-."
My turn to shush him with my finger. "Well, you questioned him as if he was what he appeared to be, a rather vicious priest. If that in itself was a disguise… well you didn't know about the existence of time travel, so he might have training that the average psychopath does not." I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder. I really hoped he wasn't going to beat himself up over this. "You can't know everything."
"It is, in fact my job to know everything." His hands massaged low circles around my back. "However, I have promised you… as well as Hideyoshi and Mai… that I will no longer take on the world alone. Nor is there much I can do about these two men right now. Not when we are here, and they are somewhere in the past." He stood up, and took me by the hand. "Come on, Brat, you've worked all afternoon."
I had at that, so I let him lead me into the den, where another of those snoozy jazz stations was playing something in the key of dull syncopation. I dropped his hand and made a beeline for the remote. No, I wasn't planning to subject him to K-pop, but a nice movie night would be good. He beat me to it and held it over my head. "Oh that's mature."
Single eyebrow raise. "One person's immature is another person's success." He tossed the thing onto a shelf that was above both of our heads. "Come here. This music, as opposed that shrill wailing you inexplicably like, is designed for dancing." He pulled me into a dance hold. "Have I mentioned that I am quite fond of your era's style of dance."
Before I could again protest his depiction of K-pop as 'shrill wailing,' he had my head resting on his shoulder, as he pressed his hand on my back. His lean grace might have been made for this, as he expertly maneuvered me in a small circle around the center of the room.
Eventually, that slowed to a single swaying embrace as we clung to each other. The sun had long set, the only light came from the glow of the TV and the neighbor's Christmas lights shining through the window.
I knew the steps of this dance we were doing, knew that soon, Mitsuhide's lips would kiss my cheek, and then my mouth, until the dance became something else entirely.
But for the moment, I was perfectly happy melting against his body, in the more innocent hold.
We had time.
Three weeks later, and four hundred and fifty(ish) years earlier…
As soon as we "landed" back in the Sengoku and split off from Sasuke and Shingen, we made our way to Azuchi. I had expected that Mitsuhide would settle in and immediately pick up war planning with Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. And while he had indeed spent the day and half the night conferring with them, we were off to Sakai the next morning.
Our machiya in Sakai was unchanged, it was Mituhide and I who were different. We were approaching the townhouse as ourselves, not as fake merchant and reluctant concubine. There was no need to put on any act.
The real Kyubei was waiting inside to greet us. He smiled and bowed formally as if we had been gone a year rather than just a couple of months.
"Did you keep watch on…?" Mitsuhide left the rest of the question trail off, which mean this likely had more to do with my mystery surprise and less to do with whatever Motonari was doing.
I unobtrusively tried to listen in on Mitsuhide's conversation with Kyubei, but what little I could pick up was in kind of a master/vassal shorthand of half sentences. Eventually, Mitsuhide noticed me lingering in the corner. "Dear me, is a little spy trying to spoil her surprise?"
He should be well aware by now that I was not a fan of surprises, even one that he had promised was a "good" surprise, so I just crossed my arms and glared at him.
"Patience, Brat, I'm just confirming the timing of it all."
Knowing that was all I was going to get out of him, I retreated upstairs and unpacked the few items of clothing I'd brought to Sakai with me. As I was changing out of my dusty travel clothes, Mitsuhide joined me – and once again he was wearing the long, dark wig. "I thought the disguise was retired." Please don't make me dress up as Kaya. I'd happily put away the Kaya identity for good, and at the moment was wearing one of Mai's hastily altered kimonos. Though it wasn't completely to my taste, it was a lot more casual than the elaborate concubine disguise.
Correctly sensing the direction of thoughts, Mitsuhide helped me adjust the fold on my obi. "It's temporary. The man we are going to see knows me only as Kyubei. You, on the other hand, are perfectly fine." He tugged on my hair, and of course the hairstyle instantly fell apart. Without Sho to help, I was useless in the coiffure department. "In any disguise… or, er, disarray."
He helped restore my hair, and then, in a move reminiscent of his former disguise, he extended his arm. Without any hesitation, I took it and we walked out into the chill winter evening. "Are we walking?"
"Are you saying you would prefer to huddle up in a palanquin?" The teasing smile he gave me indicated that any future palanquin travel we did would be far less innocent than our last trip. "That could, of course, be arranged, but tonight, we're not travelling very far."
Though I puzzled for a moment as to whether or not that had been a clue to my surprise, his purposefully bland look offered no additional help. We were not heading in the direction of Francisco's, so that possibility was off the table. Instead, we ended up in the local retail section – not the business area with merchant's large import/export warehouses, but the smaller apothecaries, clothing shops and tea houses patronized by the people of Sakai.
Even so, when Mitsuhide stopped in front of an herbalist's storefront, it seemed an odd choice. My confusion grew when he led me through the shop and up the stairs to the living area. Once we reached the top of the stairs, he stepped aside, allowing me to face the man who had risen from his dinner to greet us.
A man whose face I had seen nearly every day until I was nineteen… and after that, had only been viewable via a drawing. "Toshiie!"
While my brother stood there stunned, I threw myself into his arms. "I thought I saw you in Sakai last fall… but I figured I was imagining it."
He allowed me a long hug before stepping out of the embrace. "I was going to rescue you… I just needed more time to…" He glanced at the teapot on the table.
"Rescue me? From what?" It sounded like Toshiie had… already known I was in Sakai?
He turned and faced Mitsuhide. "Him."