The Violet Scribe

He turned from his path, following the joyful sounds. A short walk led him to a window overlooking the Azuchi palace gardens. There, he spotted his fellow warlords, vassals, and the chatelaine. 

She was throwing snowballs at Nobunaga from behind a low wall of snow. Hideyoshi was attempting a flanking maneuver but Ieyasu held the side. Mitsunari crouched nearby, rolling an arsenal of differently sized snowballs for strategic attacks.

More snow continued to fall, floating gently through the evening sky and landing on the playful group. The scene reminded Mitsuhide of something the chatelaine had told him about. A decorative thing, with carved or cast figures enclosed in glass, filled with water and tiny glittering flecks that would fall over and around them. A snowglobe.

He thought it was a foolish thing when she’d described it. A wonder, yes, but a waste of effort as well. But now the thought made him melancholy. He stood here, in the walkway. Inside the castle, but outside the scene. Beyond the warm circle of friendship and love. 

One of the trees had been decorated with ribbon, ropes of porcelain beads, and small, shiny baubles. It shook as one of Nobunaga’s missiles splatted against the evergreen branches. 

The chatelaine shot up, eyes wide as several decorations fell into the snow. “Oh no! Look what you-”

Her shout was cut off by a second snowball. It hit her in the forehead and burst on impact, coating her in a dusting of cold snow. Hideyoshi was at her side in an instant.

“Are you alright,” he asked, his hands atop her shoulders, inspecting her. 

Ieyasu shouted. “What were you thinking? You aimed at her face!” 

Nobunaga had the grace to look abashed, though still triumphant. “I didn’t know the fireball would stand up just then.”

Even Hideyoshi did not buy that answer, but he was too busy cooing over the chatelaine to disagree. She was looking up at him with trust and adoration, reassuring him that she was fine, that it was fine. 

Mitsuhide felt his heart twist in his chest, a tight, hot, needle-sharp jab of jealousy. She never turned such a look on him. Never leaned into his touch. And that was good, he told himself. Good for her. For him. 

Let them live in their snowglobe, sheltered from the darkness on the outside. Sheltered from men like him. He turned to go, but glanced back. Just once more, just to see her smile. It was one look too many. The chatelaine saw him there, in the window. Her smile widened. Her lips began to shape his name.

Mitsuhide tore himself from the view and slipped into the shadowed hall.

He hoped Leon’s troops were as successful on their front. It would take all of them to press forward. Them and their allies from Benitoite and Jade. They were pressing on their own borders with Obsidian, forcing the military to split its forces to keep them at bay. Chevalier knew he’d done everything he could - now it was up to the skill and will of others to see the plan through.

A messenger burst past his honor guard and fell to a knee. “Prince Chevalier!”

“Speak.” Chev felt an uneasy tension settle in his belly. This was too soon for bad news from the front lines and too late to expect a missive from the palace. Something had occurred that he did not account for. 

“It’s the support camp. Some men attacked it - knights and soldiers. No one is left there but Prince Luke and the wounded.” The messenger fell silent.

Clavis smiled, the same grin he always wore. “Oh no! Someone went after the logistic support? Why ever would they have done that?”

Chevalier felt a pressure in his chest, cold and heavy. Emma was there. And he knew without more inquiry that she was the target. His thoughts raced even as he was already moving. “Saddle my horse. You -” He pointed to his most trusted knight commander, “follow the battle plan. I will be back soon.”

He rode for the camp without delay, with Clavis in tow. His body felt numb inside and out. This was his fault. He should have predicted that the Belle would be a target. But who would have given away her position and location? Few enough knew. 

The village was quiet as he rode through the street to the central building where the medical support unit was housed. Nokto was already there, waiting. Chevalier gave the clown a nod in greeting as he leapt from his horse and strode in, his gaze taking in the blood and overturned tables. 

Rio met them at the door to a small backroom. 

“Where is she?” 

The butler took him inside and began to explain. “It was Flandre and the anti-war faction,” he explained. “They tried to take Emma, but we didn’t let them. She was trying to help this one knight they brought in. He looked injured, but during the fight, when Flandre began to lose . . .”

“I understand the particulars,” Chevalier said. It was exactly the sort of assassination attempt the Belle had no defense against. Using her sweet nature and kind heart against her. He felt his throat close up over his breath, an icy cold overtaking him. 

Emma lay in a narrow cot wedged into a small room at the back of the village’s gathering hall. Her breath was labored, rasping in and out of pale lips, her chest barely rising and falling. Rio sat at her bedside, gently wiping her forehead with a cool cloth. 

Clavis studied her with a puzzled smile, as if something in the scene confused him. “They seem to have thought of everything. I can’t believe they stabbed the Belle with a poisoned knife as they retreated.”

“And we’ve been told that if we want the antidote, we must give her up to Obsidian.” Nokto’s tone was glum.

Luke slumped against the wall. “There has to be something we can do.”

Nokto shook his head. “According to the physician, they used a poison unique to Obsidian. They are the only ones with an antidote. We’ll have to hand her over to the messenger they are sending, if we don’t want her to die.”

“This is . . . it’s all my fault,” Rio said miserably. He twisted the cloth in his hands hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“No. It’s mine. I was in charge of village defense but I couldn’t even protect one woman.” Luke sagged further down the wall, knees bent.

Nokto gave them both an irritated look. “Why are you wasting time beating yourselves up? The Belle is alive. You did protect her. And you managed to push back the Obsidian forces. Thanks to you, the damage was kept to a minimum.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the village homes. “If you look at the end result, things turned out great. Even if what happened to Emma is terrible.”

“What exactly is great about it? Even if I died, that wouldn’t be atonement enough for letting this happen to Emma.” Rio’s voice wavered between anger and grief.

“You’re both mistaken,” Chevalier interjected, his voice cool and quiet. “All the blame in this falls on me.” He should have known. Prepared for it. Protected her. Failure hit especially hard for a man that seldom felt its sting. 

Rio and Luke turned to stare, surprise clear on their faces.

“It happened under my leadership,” the second prince continued. “You have no right to blame yourselves.” 

“But,” Rio began.

Chevalier didn’t let him finish. “If you have the time to lament, why don’t you use your head instead?” He brushed past Rio and bent down to look at Emma. He removed his gloves and laid two bare fingers to her neck. Then he touched her lips. Then her eyelids. 

“Are you playing doctor now,” Clavis asked. 

“I’ve read about symptoms similar to these.” He gently rolled her over and tugged her shirt up to look at the stitched wound. “Labored breathing, irregular pulse, full body spasms, and the way the wound is festering. Take into account the method of delivery for the poison . . .” Chevalier roughly pulled the shirt back down and sat at a small table to write.

He did not have the luxury to revel in his guilt. There was only the path forward, and it would have to be good enough. One step at a time, a logical progression. A direction for the frigid fury building in him.

Nokto and Clavis watched him the way one might eye an agitated tiger, worried when - not if - it would lunge. But Chevalier only made his notes, and then tossed the page to Rio.

“Give that to the village doctor. The physician from the capital may not understand it all.” Chevalier’s lips twitched up in a bitter smile.

Rio scanned the note and then looked up again. “Are you saying you figured out how to make an antidote just from that simple examination?”

Chevalier returned his stare. “Hundreds of medical books, foreign and domestic, are stored in my head.”

“Hundreds?” Luke’s brows lifted.

Nokto smirked. “King Highness’ memory is perfect. He has such an inhuman ability to remember things that once he’s seen something, he’ll never forget it.”

“There isn’t time for pointless chatter.” Chevalier moved toward the door. “I still have the small matter of purging the traitors to see to.” His expression was as flat and cool as always, not a hint of the anger that churned in his chest. A storm of ice, a rage as cold as the deepest winter night. Cold as death. 

No one said a word. They could feel it, hiding beneath his tranquil demeanor. Clavis was the first to break the silence with a laugh. “You look calm but you’re really angry, aren’t you?”

“Angry? Don’t be ridiculous.” Chevalier rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “However, the traitors will continue to be a nuisance if we let them. It’s better to crush them now.” The beast in him rose to the surface, ready to be unleashed. The anti-war faction would not live to cause harm after today. Not one -

“Ngh . . . Pl-please . . .” Emma breathed, the words barely audible.

Chevalier turned toward her as her fingers closed on the hem of his cloak. 

Her eyes were open but there was no light in them, no life. Only a flicker of desperation as her pale fingers clutched at the fabric.

“Let go,” Chevalier said.

“Eva.” Rio laid a hand on her.

The second prince watched her, uncertainty creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. Was this her will? His ridiculous, naive, kind-hearted love . . . how foolish. How precious. He felt an aching warmth return to his heart, a hearthfire in the midst of that icy chill. “I’ll talk to them first. Does that satisfy you?”

Emma’s hand dropped away from his cloak. Her body relaxed again, eyes drifting closed. 

Chevalier knelt down and took her hand. His fingers twined with hers, squeezing gently for a moment. Then he tucked it beneath the sheet. He hoped she would understand. 

“I feel like I’ve witnessed something priceless,” Nokto quipped.

Clavis nodded. “From that alone, it seems the Belle has become an excellent animal trainer.”

“You’re coming with me,” Chevalier told him, his gaze pinning Clavis to the spot. He was not going to grant their commentary any response.

“Wait. Just the two of you are going?” Luke straightened.

“That will be enough to deal with the anti-war faction,” Chevalier replied.

Clavis laughed again. “You’ll keep me entertained, won’t you Chev?”

“Indeed.” Chevalier gave his brother a grim smile. “The hunt begins now.”

He was aware of the Clavis’ gaze as they followed the trail left by the fleeing anti-war faction. It was an annoyance akin to a fly, nothing worth his attention. And yet. Chevalier finally let out a breath. “What?”

Clavis grinned wider. “You almost seem human like this. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I am what I have always been.” 

His brother snorted in disbelief. “If I’d known all it took was a woman to -”

“Quiet.” Chevalier studied the hilltop ahead, the unnatural arrangement of brush, the sad attempt to hide horse tracks. 

Clavis fell silent as he too picked up on the signs ahead. 

The two of them approached at a slow walk. Chevalier stopped in ear shot, aware he was taking a risk as it was close enough for a long bow. “I am here to speak with Baron Flandre.”

Several arrows zipped through the air toward them. Chev cut the close ones from the air, knocking them aside.

“I don’t think they want to talk to you,” Clavis laughed.

Chevalier grunted in response, and nudged his horse closer. “I am here to negotiate.” 

More arrows fell, but now they were in sight of the poorly hidden entrance. Clavis rode forward, and as he closed in, three men leapt out with swords drawn. The third born prince was no stranger to swordplay, and his skill quickly dispatched the three. They were left alive, but too wounded to fight. A clean death might have been kinder.

“We’ve come to talk,” Clavis shouted. “Won’t you come out and chat with us?” He laughed and flicked the blood from his blade.

They did not seem to believe the princes. 

Chevalier exchanged a look with Clavis.

“How exciting! You’re going to leave this to me?” Clavis sounded like a child on holiday. 

“Try not to kill all of them.” Chevalier felt his jaw clench. 

The next several minutes were pure chaos. The anti-war faction soldiers were few in number, but desperate. Unfortunately for them, their frenzied violence was no match for the laughing Clavis. He took them out as easily as cutting daisies from the stem.

Chevalier dismounted and strode forward, heading for the largest tent in the most protected spot. Flandre’s arrogance was painfully clear in everything he did, right down to how he set up his camp. The baron was there, sword drawn, his chest heaving with panicked breath.

He looked at Flandre with distaste. To think this man had once been a knight in his service. “You appear to be the only one left.”

“Impossible . . .” The baron’s eyes scanned the dark camp and found no allies standing. 

“I didn’t expect it to be this easy. Disappointing. Were you just a group of amateurs?” Chevalier let his lips curl in a cruel smirk. 

Flandre’s temper flared, battling his defeated apathy. “You know that’s not true! Are you mocking us?”

Chevalier scoffed. “You are a disgrace. You have no right to complain about being mocked.” He tilted his head, studying the man as if he were no more than a strange insect. “Besides, I thought I told you that I wanted to talk.”

“Who would believe the lie that the Brutal Beast just wanted to talk? You intended to kill us all anyway.” 

“Regretfully, I didn’t come here tonight to kill you. If you open your eyes, you would realize that.” The prince felt suddenly tired. He did not want to be here, talking to this man. This fool that would sell out everyone in Rhodolite for the possibility that his loved ones might be spared. He deserved nothing but the sharp end of a sword and an unmarked grave. But Emma had asked . . .

He forced a calm smile. “I came here tonight to offer you redemption.”

Flandre blinked, uncertain. “Redemption?”

“If your faction cuts ties with Obsidian immediately and sides with Rhodolite, I’ll consider it atonement for your crimes.” Chevalier’s eyes narrowed. “However, the essence of the anti-war faction is protecting your loved ones.Those loved ones migrated to a number of islands off the coast of Benitoite several months ago.”

That put the baron on the defensive. “H-how did you . . . you’re not - not threatening them, are you,” he sputtered.

One blonde brow rose. “What do you think?”

Flandre trembled with rage and fear. 

“Treason or obedience. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. Choose what you prefer.” Chevalier waited, though he was past impatient to be done here.

“Why?”

The prince sneered. “Why what? Why haven’t I punished them after I discovered where your family was hidden?” He shook his head. “Using force to suppress those who hold differing views about the country is called dictatorship. I’ve never once desired that for our kingdom.”

Flandre stumbled and caught himself. His hand fell away from his sword hilt. “But you’ve killed anyone who might bring harm to the country!”

“Yes. Anyone who might cause real harm. Dissenting opinions regarding the way the country is run are valuable sources of information when making policy decisions.” Chevalier skewered Flandre with an icy glare. “We declared this war because we deemed it necessary, but I would have respected your grievances if they were justified.”

The baron’s jaw clenched as his rage won out over sense and fear.

“However, apparently you all believed from the very beginning that I wouldn’t listen to you and so you chose this path. The path of hostility.” The prince let out a slow breath, reigning in his irritation.

“I know you’re not the kind of man you just described,” Flandre grumbled. “No one but you could mercilessly slaughter people and do whatever you please regardless of the wants or needs of others!”

Chevalier felt like laughing at this fool. Feeding himself to the wolf to save himself from the tiger. “You weren’t discerning enough to see my true nature. That’s all. And now you have given up everything for nothing.”

The truth of his words sank in slowly. One breath. Two. Another. Then Flandre collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. 

Clavis began to clap, a slow overly dramatic gesture that fit the third-born perfectly. “Goodness. My. Well done!”

“Did you find the antidote?” Chev didn’t dignify his behavior with a reaction. 

“Yup. And I grabbed the poison itself while I was at it.” He pulled out two vials, one a horrid thick, dark fluid and the other a light, turbid concoction. Clavis’ grin promised some planned use for the foul stuff, but his brother did not pry. He only cared about the antidote for now. Whatever else Clavis might do later would be handled then.

Chevalier gave a slight smile. The cloudy liquid looked exactly the way his recommended cure would look. “I believe the antidote the doctor made will suffice.” 

“I’m impressed, Chev, really. But to be really sure, let’s give her this one too, hm?” 

“Indeed.” Chevalier glanced at the bloody carnage around them, the remains of the anti-war faction camp. “I’m leaving the cleanup to you. After all, this was your fault.”

Clavis shrugged as if he did not care one way or another. “Are you sure you want to entrust me with my ‘friends’?”

The unspoken threat was there, threaded in his words. Did Chev trust his brother not to take what remnants were here and turn them into another threat? Chevalier’s lips lifted a little more at the corners, widening his smile. “You can entertain yourself with them if you wish, but keep your hands firmly on the reins.” His smile fell as if it had never been. “If you ever do something like this again, you’re going to get what you deserve.”

His brother laughed as if this was a joke, but his eyes told a different story. He knew that Chevalier knew he’d nudged these malcontents. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Clavis’ smile stayed firmly in place as Chev turned away. 

“Seriously though, I can’t believe you didn’t kill a single person here,” Clavis added. “If you let them live, you know it may be more than a rebellion next time.”

“It doesn’t matter if they rebel or not,” Chevalier replied, glancing back. “However, the day you lay a hand on the Belle again is the day you die.” His eyes were ice and his tone colder still. 

Clavis did not have a ready quip for that. 

Chevalier left, giving Clavis instructions on what to do with the remnants of the anti-war faction. He tried not to hurry obviously as he returned to Emma’s side.

Rio was still there, sitting beside Emma’s bed. His expression was one of pure misery. He looked up as Chevalier came in. “She’s breathing easier.”

The prince nodded and sat at the small table. The room felt crowded, but he did not ask Rio to leave. He could see the unrequited affection in the butler’s eyes, a loyalty beyond friendship or servitude. He wasn’t threatened by it, only reassured that this man would also protect the Belle. 

They sat together in silence for awhile. Chevalier took the time to martial his thoughts. Now that she was safe and dosed twice, he could consider how this had happened. It was his fault. Not because of the war, nor because he’d allowed her to accompany him. No. It was his fault for allowing her to become precious. A token, one that could be taken or destroyed, or used in barter. A tool valued only for her connection to him.

The longer he allowed her to stay by his side, the more he gave in to the stirring warmth in his heart, the worse it would be. For her. This would be one of many assassination attempts. But she faced them bravely. She did not give up or give in. She had not panicked or fled. The Belle had a spine of steel and a heart strong enough to match.

He sat, and watched her in silence, ordering his thoughts. He had a decision to make. The quiet was only broken when Emma began to stir. Her breath changed, a new strain entering it. And then her hand moved and her eyes slowly opened. 

“What . . . where . . .”

“Emma!” Rio clasped her hand in his. “I’m so sorry. I - I should have -”

“Ngh . . . n-no . . . Rio . . .”

Chevalier could hear the unspoken words, the forgiveness behind them. She was too kind. Entirely too kind.

“Thank you,” Rio murmured. His head bowed. 

“What happened,” she rasped.

“Prince Chevalier diagnosed you and came up with a cure. Then he and Clavis went to the anti-war faction camp,” Rio supplied.

“I . . . rem-member . . . Prince . . .” She struggled to sit up, but couldn’t manage. 

“It’s ok, Emma,” Rio stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Prince Chevalier went to the anti-war faction. But he didn’t go there for a purge.” The butler glanced toward him for a moment, then looked back at Emma. “In fact, he brought several members of the faction back here.” He smiled. “Everyone was so surprised!”

The Belle’s lips lifted in a smile, radiant despite her weakness. 

“He must love you, Emma.” Rio spoke gravely, as if these words were a eulogy. The start of a dirge. It was a strange juxtaposition to the joy in the Belle’s expression. 

Chevalier knew the truth of those words, and felt the tone appropriate.

She tried to say something, but her breath rattled in her chest and her eyes fluttered closed. 

Rio stroked her forehead gently. “Sorry. I’m talking too much. You’re not back to normal yet. You should sleep.” He smiled and tucked her hand back under the covers. “Let me sing you a lullaby.”

The song was Benitoite. Chevalier knew the butler was more than he seemed, and this only added to that certainty. That was a question to answer later. Whatever the song, it seemed to ease Emma’s breathing, and soon she was sleeping again. 

“Why didn’t you join the conversation,” Rio asked him.

“I didn’t feel the need to.” He stood. Now that she was awake, he could go. He could walk away clean. Leave Emma to live her life without interference. 

The butler frowned. “I think it’s a mistake not to do that just because you don’t want to bother her.”

Chevalier smirked in response. No matter how well Rio thought he knew her, he clearly didn’t know everything. 

“Ahhh,” Rio sighed. “I thought you were the one prince that would never be my rival in love.” He looked down at the sleeping Belle. “But ever since she came to the palace, she’s been talking about you every chance she gets. So even though I hate the thought of it, I came to realize that she loves you.”

The prince felt a sharpness enter his expression.

The butler’s gaze came back to him, ocean blue and earnest. “Prince Chevalier. Could you do me a favor? Would you make Emma happy for the rest of her life?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His cold blue gaze pierced the butler where he sat.

Rio froze, the response surprising him. 

Chevalier frowned. “It never ends well for women who get involved with royalty.” He eyed the butler speculatively. “Seeing as there are eight of us half brothers now, perhaps you have some idea what I’m talking about.”

“But I think she wants to be with you.” Rio resumed stroking her hair gently.

“A temporary delusion.” He turned his head away, unable to look at her there. “Once she leaves the palace, she’ll forget about me.”

Rio made a choked sound. “Are you serious?”

“Does it sound like I’m joking?” When the butler did not reply, Chev added, “Even supposing she doesn’t forget about me, I’m sure I will forget about her.” He knew that was a lie. He thought he could stop loving her. Lock those feelings away behind a wall of ice as thick as it needed to be. But forget? Never. She was inscribed on his mind as surely as any text.

“So you mean to leave it at that, huh?” 

That was why, when her phone went off, she was ready for it. Ayami’s message was cryptic, but clear that Kaiya was needed. She put down her sewing and left in a rush. 

The hypnotherapist’s office was easy to find. Kaiya took a shaky breath and then went in. She was immediately assailed by incense and the hum of white noise. It disoriented her for a moment, and she put a hand on the wall.

“Are you alright?” 

A man’s voice from a doorway she hadn’t even noticed. Kaiya shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts. “Yes. I’m fine. Who are you? Where is Mai?” The guy was older and a little on the heavy side. He didn’t look threatening but made her nervous all the same.

“You must be Kaiya, Ayami’s friend.” The guy ran a hand through his hair. “Come on back. I’m Bo, by the way.”

Kaiya glared at the back of his head as he led her into his office. This was his fault, she thought. He shouldn’t even be practicing fake, stupid - her thoughts stuttered to a stop as she caught sight of Mai. “You idiot! What did you do?” She rushed to the chair and knelt down.

“I - nothing! The session started normally. Mai was speaking, telling me she was training with someone. Mitsuhide? I think? But she stopped talking, and then I couldn’t get her to wake.” Bo looked genuinely distraught. “That’s never happened before! Never!”

“Well, you ought to have some kind of emergency plan B,” Kaiya muttered. She took Mai’s hand. It was cool to the touch, and twitching weakly, like a dreaming kitten. This was impossible, she thought. Hypnotherapy wasn’t even real. But real or not, something had happened in this office. 

Bo hung his head. “I suppose I should. It’s just, this isn’t - it shouldn’t be possible. Not without medicated sedation or - or - I don’t know. Maybe an underlying medical condition?” 

Kaiya turned to look at him. “You don’t know?” She wanted to tear into him, but stopped herself. This was just her frustration at seeing her friend hurt and being unable to do anything about it. Her fear. She took a breath. “Ok. Ok fine. Let’s not worry about how. What can we do for her now?”

“I’ve tried waking her up. I even cracked open my emergency kit and got out the smelling salts.” Bo gestured toward a small table where a spill of items covered the surface. Bandages, antiseptic cream, the smelling salts, tweezers, scissors, and a handful of other items. “I - I shook her a little.”

“What about cold water?”

Bo jerked to attention. “That’s a good idea!” He hurried over to his desk and opened a mini-fridge. Then he brought over a chilled water bottle. 

Kaiya took it from him and opened it, splashing a little water on Mai’s tear-streaked face. There was no reaction. “Damn.” She sighed. “I’m guessing you already tried loud noise? A pinch?” 

“Please don’t pinch my little mouse.” The silk-smooth voice took them both by surprise. Kaiya jumped to her feet and Bo spun around to face the door.

“H-how did you get in? I didn’t hear the entry tone!” Bo sounded as if he was reaching his limit.

The man at the door was tall, with pale hair and eyes so light brown they looked golden. Kaiya placed him in a blink. “You’re Mitsuhide.”

He gave a slight bow. “I am. And you must be Kaiya. I am glad to meet any friend of Mai’s, though I wish the circumstances were less dire.” His eyes found Mai, slumped back in the chair. “How long has she been like this?”

“Wait. You are Mitsuhide? But . . . her past life . . .” Bo ran a hand over his face. “

“This is your fault.” Kaiya stood, all her frustration boiling back up. “She came here because of you. Because of her weird memories and the headaches! Passing out! All of that started after she met you!”

His gold eyes gleamed in the soft light, the hardness going out of them for just a moment. Just long enough for Kaiya to see a darkness there, a deep sorrow. A well of regret. And then it was gone. “It is my fault, I suppose. But I could not turn away from her, once I found her again.” He leaned down, too close for comfort. “500 years of searching. Hoping. Longing. Five centuries worth of long, cold, nights and empty sun-stricken days. I could not simply let her go, because disaster might come.” 

Kaiya found herself breathless. His proximity was frightening. Intoxicating. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. 

“Mai taught me that. Hope. It is as much a part of me now as my beating heart.” Mitsuhide smiled a thin, sharp smile. He stepped back, and gestured toward the door. 

She didn’t need the invitation. Kaiya sped toward the lobby and collapsed into one of the chairs. All her senses screamed warning, but this was as far as she could go. Any further would be abandoning her friend. And now, she at least was certain this Mitsuhide guy would do nothing to harm Mai intentionally. 

Bo followed her out, a bottle of water in hand. “Here.” He sat across from her. 

“Thanks.” Kaiya took a drink, trying to calm herself. She felt out of control, her emotions jumping all over the place. It was not normal for her, and she didn’t like it. Unfortunately, it seemed her upset was not going away any time soon. 

The door burst open and a harried looking man stormed in, his expression one of righteous rage. “Where is she?” The guy was tall, with large grey eyes and a mop of unruly brown hair. He was drop dead gorgeous, despite looking furious. 

Bo leapt to his feet. “This is getting out of hand! I have a sick girl in my office and the last thing she needs is a parade of -”

The guy grabbed Bo by the collar and lifted him off his feet. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Now, where is the angel?”

Kaiya sighed and stood. “Put the hypnotherapist down, big guy. I’ll take you back. But you better cool it. If you plan on like, dueling for her hand or something, take it outside.”

“Dueling for her -” The man’s expression gentled with a slight smile. It sent Kaiya’s pulse racing. He set Bo down and took Kaiya’s hand. “I did not know there was a gathering of the divine here. What might your name be? Wait - is it goddess of love and beauty?”

“Umm. No. I’m Kaiya.” She pulled her hand back, hoping her face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Now come on. Mai is this way.” 

The guy followed her back. He sucked in a breath at the sight of Mai, slumped in the chair, tears still running down her face.

Mitsuhide was kneeling beside her on the floor, speaking to her. His voice was so soft that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. He stopped and looked up as they came in. “Takeda.”

“Akechi.” The man’s lush lips pressed into a thin line of distaste. “What happened? Is she alright?”

He ran a hand through his pale hair and shook his head. “She is trapped in memories from her past life. Our life together. I had hoped I could . . . draw her out. But she doesn’t appear to hear me.”

Takeda took a breath, clearly shaken. “We need a doctor. Or . . . a priest.” 

Mitsuhide gave a grim smile. “Don’t you happen to know one, Shingen? Think you can call in a favor?”

Kaiya eyed them both. “What exactly are you two proposing?”

Shingen gave her a reassuring smile, one that sent her heart galloping off again. He really needed to stop doing that, she thought. Smiling. “We need to get through to Mai, to bring her back. I don’t think medicine can help us.”

“Uh huh. Go on.” Kaiya put a fist to her hip.

“We are turning to faith,” Mitsuhide said with a dry laugh. “The true sign of desperation.”

Shingen sighed. “I’ll text the abbot.”

***

Ayami glanced nervously between Keiji and Nobunaga. “So. Ummm. Why aren’t we going back to see Mai now?”

Nobunaga gave her a smile she found less than reassuring. “I need to know what you’ve been told and what you have determined on your own.” He rubbed his chin. “This hypnotherapist was your idea, was it not?”

She swallowed. “I-it was. Yes. I mean, I’ve done it loads of times.”

“And why is that?” He leaned forward, his carnelian gaze relentless. 

Ayami could feel those eyes drilling into her, compelling her. He was like a force of nature, as easy to deny as a summer storm. “I . . . in high school I started smoking. I thought it would make me look mature. Sexy.” She let out a nervous laugh. “But it really didn’t. I went to Bo to quit. And then to help me eat better and workout more and . . . you know. Self improvement.”

Nobunaga sat back, his gaze now traveling over her in a slow, thorough sweep. She felt like she might as well be naked, with the way he saw her. Like her clothes and attitude were peeled back, and he saw right through to the person underneath. “You do not look as if you need improvement.” 

Keiji chuckled. “Second that. Our girl has pretty friends.” 

Ayami felt her face get hot. “Would you two cut it out? I feel like I’m in some kinda pageant!”

“Do you not enjoy being complimented?” Nobunaga raised a brow.

“I do! Of course I do. Just . . . you’re really intense, you know?” She frowned at him. “And this isn’t exactly the right circumstance? I mean, my best friend is sick and I’m sitting in a conference room in some posh office and you didn’t even get me a drink!” 

Ayami was afraid she’d said too much, been rude. But Nobunaga just laughed. “You’ve got as much attitude as my little fireball. Trust me when I say, Mitsuhide will do all in his power to help Mai. She could not be in better hands. We can do nothing for her, besides wait. Do you trust me that far?”

She wanted to say no, to tell him there was no way she’d trust her best friend to someone that was practically a stranger. Yet she found that she did trust him. There was such certainty in him. As if he’d said the sun would rise or that the sky was blue. Ayami nodded. 

Keiji chuckled. “You sure do have a way with people, Lord Oda. It took me a lot more to get her to trust me. And she threatened to punch me!”

“That wasn’t a threat. I was just letting you know,” Ayami shot back. He was grinning ear to ear like this was funny. “I liked you better as a pig,” she huffed.”

Nobunaga laughed at that. “It is an improvement, to be sure. Now. You mentioned a drink. What would you like? I wish to put you at ease.”

“Oh! Really?” She looked for some sign he was mocking her, but he seemed completely serious. “Ok then. How about an iced coffee? With caramel syrup and extra cream?”

“I’ll grab it. Anything for you, boss?”

“One of the same, but make sure Hideyoshi doesn’t see you bring it in. He’s decided sweet drinks are worse than candy.” Nobunaga sighed. “I’d rather not get a lecture this afternoon.”

Keiji’s grin widened. “I dunno. He’s pretty observant . . .”

“I’ll owe you one.” Nobunaga said. 

“Hideyoshi? You mean Mai’s ex-boyfriend? He lectures you?” Ayami’s eyes widened. 

“He lectures everybody,” Keiji interjected. “For our own good, of course.”

Ayami looked between them. “But aren’t you his boss? Isn’t he a school teacher?”

Nobunaga chuckled. “He does teach and I do own the school, yes. Hideyoshi works for me in his way, and sometimes that includes lecturing me, and others. He has a strong sense of -”

“Superiority? Mothering?” Keiji’s voice was almost sharp.

“Aren’t you getting coffee?” Nobunaga glanced at him.

Keiji nodded with alacrity. “On my way.” He slipped out of the room and disappeared down the hall.

Ayami was not at all sure being alone with Nobunaga was an improvement. “So. Umm. Thanks for the coffee.”

“It is a small thing for a friend of Mai. Now. Tell me all you know, and what you believe.” He leaned forward again, and Ayami felt compelled to speak. 

By the time Keiji came back with coffee, she’d told Nobunaga everything she knew, and all the ideas she and Mai had. It really didn’t amount to much. “So, we thought if Mai could get her memories back, she’d understand everything with Mitsuhide. I didn’t know it could go so wrong . . .”

“Of course not. But Mai is a special case. She was born into this era once before, and taken back to our time. We did not know when or how she would be reborn. All of us followed the signs, searched for lifetimes.” Nobunaga looked pensive, his gaze turned inward.

“Lifetimes? But how are you still here? Alive?” Ayami sipped at her coffee.

Keiji answered. “When we died, we did not die. We woke again, divinely blessed, or cursed I guess. Spirits that can take the form of man, or animal. Pulled to tasks we don’t always understand.” 

“That is enough.” Nobunaga’s voice cracked into the space between Keiji’s words. “She does not need to know every aspect. Only that we are here, and that Mai is precious to us.”

Ayami nodded, accepting that. She didn’t understand what Keiji meant about tasks, but living forever could be a blessing or a curse. She’d seen enough movies about that. “So. What are you guys to her, exactly?”

“Friends, I suppose. My luck charm was more than that, though.” Nobunaga took a breath. “She was a princess of my clan, my rescuer. A confidante.” He gave a melancholy smile. “I have missed her immensely.” 

Keiji nodded. “Yep. She’s one of a kind.” 

“Huh. Well. I mean, she is pretty special. I didn’t know she was that important though.” Ayami sat back, feeling a little overwhelmed. She’d known Mai since childhood. Mai was smart and kind and cute, a good friend. But she’d never guessed past-life Mai had such an impact on these powerful people. It was a strange thought, and one that left an odd, bittersweet feeling in her chest. As if she didn’t really know her friend at all.

Nobunaga seemed to sense the drift of her thoughts because he reached out and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “I want to show you something.”

“What?” She stumbled after him, confused by the sudden change in conversation.

He didn’t reply, only led her forward. Up a flight of stairs hidden behind a paneled wall, and into an area that looked more like an apartment than an office. Shelves with delicate porcelain, painted wall scrolls that were old enough to probably be in a museum, elegant, simple furniture glimpsed through open doors. 

“Do you live here?” Ayami tried to peer into every room they passed, but Nobunaga was walking so fast. 

“At times.” He did not pause his steps until he pulled her into a small, narrow room with a high ceiling. There were no chairs here, or sofas, only shelves and hanging racks. The racks held swords, some sheathed and others with their blades bare. Several were beautiful, the patterned lines of folded steel gleaming. Others were chipped and dull, or even broken altogether. 

The shelves held helms and decorative buckles, a similar assortment of seemingly random memorabilia. Ayami walked around the room, looking at them with curiosity. “I wish I’d paid more attention in history class,” she muttered.

“You still would not know most of them,” Nobunaga said from behind her. “These are my friends. Men with nobility in them, who served me or my allies. They helped bring about my dream, though they often could not understand it. They died for it nonetheless.”

He ran his finger along one of the nicked blades, barely touching.

“So this is like some weird trophy room? To remind you of what? Your victories with them?” Ayami looked at him from the corner of her eye, trying not to be obvious about studying his reaction. You could tell a lot about a guy by how he reacted to a question like that.

Nobunaga shook his head. “No. These are not trophies. They are reminders. The cost of my dreams, the value of a life. The distance between humans, no matter how closely allied.” 

Ayami saw no regret or pride in him as he spoke. Only acceptance. A grim sort of forbearance that saw the consequences and did not shy away from the action regardless. “Would you do it all again, then? Knowing so many people died?”

“Yes. I know my actions, bloody as they were, brought my world closer to a peaceful one. Mai is proof of that. As are you.” He gave her a slight smile. 

She understood then what he was trying to say. That friendship and loyalty didn’t require you to know each other’s heart and mind, only a willingness to try. And to care. Ayami smiled back at him. “Thanks.”

“You can stop looking at me like that. I’ll rest after I talk to Mitsuhide,” she told the rabbit. Somehow, it didn’t feel silly talking to him. 

The rabbit huffed and rubbed its face with a paw. Then it hopped over and snuggled onto her lap, placing its paws on top of her uninjured hand. It looked up at her with a serious expression, its nose twitching. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re worried about me.” Mai stroked the bunny’s long, soft ears. “I guess that’s why you’re a good therapy rabbit, huh?”

“He probably is. I know I am.” 

The unexpected voice made Mai do a little hop on the bed. She looked up to see a gorgeous, pink haired guy standing in the doorway. He held a bouquet of pink roses that nearly matched the color of his hair. “Ranmaru?”

He smiled brightly. “You remembered me! I am so glad!” The roses went onto the small table by the door as he stepped closer.

“Umm, of course. But . . .”

“What am I doing here?” He gave a slight shrug. “Well. I heard you were hurt. See, Kennyo - my agent - is old friends with Shingen and, anyway, it’s not important. What matters is, are you ok?” His gaze traveled over her, brows drawing together with worry. 

Mai paused, not sure how to politely ask why a guy she’d met once on the train was in her hospital room. The question felt both completely unnecessary and pretty damn important. There was part of her that felt like, of course Ranmaru was here! And another that found it bizarre. 

“I’m doing ok,” she said after a pause. “But, Ranmaru . . . who are you? Really?”

He smiled with wide, innocent eyes. It was the kind of expression that might completely derail someone’s thoughts with just how adorable he was. “I am so happy you’re alright. When we heard what danger that - that kitsune put you in -”

“Wait, we?”

Ranmaru blushed, and took a breath. “Mm. My manager and I. Anyway, look! I brought you a treat!” He pulled out a candy box in a colorful furoshiki. He handed it to Mai. 

She took it but didn’t open it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I told you who I am on the train. And you remembered me. My last name is Mori, but don’t tell anyone, ‘kay?”

She frowned. “That’s not what I mean. I mean . . . who are you to me? How do you know me?”

Ranmaru’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Umm. Is it ok if I can’t really talk to you about that just yet? Because I could never lie to you, Mai. But some things you have to be ready to hear.”

“I’m ready right now.” Mai crossed her arms and tried to hold onto her frown and her glare. It was hard because the sweet-faced Ranmaru looked as if he might start crying. 

After a long, awkward pause, his shoulders fell. “Alright. I’ll tell you what I can. But you have to promise not to let Mitsuhi- ah!” 

The man appeared behind Ranmaru as if summoned by his name. Mitsuhide’s slender fingers curled around Ranmaru’s shoulder. There was an audible pop and suddenly, Ranmaru was gone. Mitsuhide held a struggling white stoat in his hand.

“It seems you’ve been plagued by visitors without a chance to rest, little mouse.” 

Mai was so shocked she couldn’t speak. 

Mitsuhide’s golden gaze settled on the rabbit in her lap beside the sweets Ranmaru brought. “You should go. She is in my care now.”

The rabbit thumped its foot against the mattress, fur bristling. 

“We can discuss your accusations later, Uesugi.” Mitsuhide’s expression was cold and his tone one of icy disdain. 

After a huff, the bunny leapt down from the bed and loped out of the room. 

Mitsuhide set the stoat down after it and closed the door. “There. Much better.” He smiled and sat down at the edge of Mai’s bed. 

“D-did Ranmaru turn into a weasel? I saw him just - just -” She tried to make sense of it, but the only thing that came to mind were folktales. Stories that clearly weren’t true. Except what she’d just seen could have come from one of them. 

“Is that what happened, little mouse? I think you may be more tired than you realize.” He set a warm hand on her leg, squeezing her calf gently. 

Mai felt a knot of tension she hadn’t even realized she was carrying release at his touch. “I-I am, but he - you -”

Mitsuhide smiled, though the expression looked strained. “And you are on something for the pain as well. Perhaps things are not quite as they seem.”

“No. I want you to tell me now. What - what is going on? How do I know you? And - and the others? Shingen and Sasuke and Ranmaru and -” The stress and horror of her day fell on her all at once. She felt the most absurd urge to fling herself into Mitsuhide’s arms and burrow her face against his chest to cry until the tightness in her released. A tear rolled free from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.

He took her in his arms, careful of her injuries. His scent enfolded her as she pressed her face against his shoulder and let herself relax into his touch. Mitsuhide’s hand stroked her back, slow calming motions to ease her tired heart and mind. 

“I want to - to be mad at you,” she confessed. “You never answer my questions. And something IS happening. Something I - I don’t understand but you,” she leaned back to look him in the eyes. “You are right in the middle of it.”

Mitsuhide’s expression was unreadable. His eyes glinted with hidden secrets and stories, and his lips were pressed to a thin line. “You’ve been through enough for tonight, little one. Why are you looking for more trouble?”

She took a shaky breath. “Is that what you are?”

“Trouble?” He chuckled. “I have been called worse.” He brushed her hair back from her face, his fingertips trailing along the edge of her ear. “I suppose I am.”

Mai took his hand in hers. “I want to know, Mitsuhide. Everything.”

He sighed and stroked a finger along the back of her hand. The sensation was like a candle flame that raced up the nerves of her arm and set her heart on fire. “Everything? I wouldn’t know where to start. And this is not the time for what questions you have.”

“But -”

“You will need to be focused when you speak to the police. They want your report of tonight’s events. I don’t want you to worry about . . . other things.” His thumb was a warm, comforting pressure at her wrist. “Trust me.”

“I do. I don’t know why but I do.” Mai didn’t want to think too long on that statement. It was irrational, mad really. She knew very little about Mitsuhide. And though he’d saved her, he also put her in danger. “Just please, next time you set up a clever plot, can you just . . . I dunno. Warn me?”

Mitsuhide stroked his finger along the line of her jaw, stopping at her chin. “I will. I promise.”

She studied his face, hoping for some sign of his thoughts. After a moment, Mai gave up the effort. “Alright. I’ll take that, I guess.” 

“Good. Now, little mouse, you need to sleep.” His crescent moon smile returned as he brushed his thumb over her brows. “Your eyes are puffy.”

“You are so -” Mai felt at a loss for words. But his teasing really did make her feel better. “Just grrrr.”

“Mmm. Just?” 

A laugh escaped her still-parted lips. “Yeah. Pretty much.” 

Mitsuhide ruffled her hair. “I shall endeavor to be more. I’d hate to be relegated to a mere sound of frustration in your mind.” 

“I wouldn’t say mere. Sometimes you’re practically a symphony.” 

“Of more than frustration, I hope?” His golden gaze was impossible to look away from. The playful glint, the soft vulnerability in them intoxicated her. 

Mai swallowed. “A - a lot more.”

“Then I will be satisfied for now.” He moved to stand, relinquishing his hold on her.

“Wait!”

Mitsuhide paused, an eyebrow raised.

“I - I don’t want to be alone right now. I won’t sleep if - if you leave.” It was a bit of emotional blackmail, she knew. But it was true as well. She didn’t want to be alone, and more than that, she wanted the company of one particular, infuriating man.

His thin smile stretched wide, a soft, resigned exhalation. “I have places to be, but there is a little time between. I will stay, just until you fall asleep. Is that acceptable?”

She nodded, feeling a little guilty. 

Mitsuhide sat down again on the edge of the bed. “Lie down. All the way.” He gently took hold of her shoulder and supported her as she laid back. Then he tugged the blanket up to her chin and made sure her arms were under it. 

“I’m not a little kid,” Mai pouted, feeling exactly like a child. 

“No. You aren’t.” He drew a hand over her face, his fingertips brushed lightly over her. The light touch caused her eyes to flutter shut. 

Mai found it hard to open them again. The thin hospital blanket felt warm with Mitsuhide sitting so close. Her body gave in to the need to sleep. The world drifted away, all her questions, all her worries, sliding away into a comforting darkness. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for staying.”

The last words she heard before sleep took her, “I have never been able to deny you, little one.”

***

A hawk sat on a bare branch of an ancient cedar tree, staring down imperiously at the other animals gathered there. A one eyed tiger striped cat sat on a lower branch, cleaning its fur while a white rabbit chewed furiously at a clover blossom below it. A squirrel perched, half hidden in the foliage, while a pig snuffled around the roots, ridden by a small, grey hamster. There were other even stranger animals - a kangaroo, and a white weasel, a peacock, and a wolf. In the center, at the base of the vast trunk, sat a single white fox with golden eyes.

“She could have died. Again. The kitsune’s worse at this than I am.” The kangaroo spoke, his voice loud enough to carry through the odd gathering. 

The fox sniffed. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“No? Because if this is your protection, the angel might be better off without your interference,” the bear rumbled.

“A true tactician would have considered the possibility of her arrival, and planned for it,” piped the small, grey hamster with violet eyes. His fur bristled as he glared at the fox.

Several other voices rose then, a cacophony of worry and anger. The hawk cut it short with a harsh cry. “Enough!” His piercing, garnet gaze pinned each of the animals to where they stood, sat, or perched. “Let the kitsune speak.”

The fox swished its tail once, a grin spreading over his face, but with fangs bared it was anything but friendly. “Thank you all for your . . . insights. The little mouse would be overwhelmed by your concern.” His red tongue lolled between his jaws as he turned his head to regard each animal with a hard, cold golden eye. “She may not be so pleased that you all think her cowardly or incapable.”

“Hey! We never said that,” growled a wolf, hackles raised. The bear beside him put a paw on the wolf’s back, smoothing the grey-brown fur. 

“Oh? Is it not implied?” The white fox widened one eye as if to arch his brow.

The gathering exploded again in a mix of voices and bestial growls. Surprisingly, it was the rabbit that brought them to order this time. The white bunny thumped its foot hard against a tree root until the rest of the beasts fell quiet. “Make your point, kitsune. I am bored of talking.”

“My point? Hmmm.” The fox smiled again. “Only that you have all discounted how very capable my little mouse is. I could not keep her out of harm’s way before, and I cannot now. None of you can, because she is not a bauble to be locked away. She is brave, assertive. Independent. And I am proud of her, even as I regret the pain she suffered.”

A low murmur spread out from the tree then, a mix of approval and consternation. 

“This was still your fault, Akechi,” the pig said, his voice laced with a sharp bitterness that seemed in opposition to his cheery demeanor.

“I do not deny that. I should have moved to secure Keiki more quickly.” The fox bowed his head. 

Several animals spoke up then, all saying they could have protected her, kept her from harm. The hawk spoke over them in a tone that brooked no dissent. “Uesugi, Kennyo, Takeda and I will speak privately on this. Until then, none shall interfere with our little fireball.”

“None? What does that mean?” A small monkey poked its head from the leafy branch near the hawk, gentle brown eyes wide and unhappy.

“Leave her alone for now. She will need rest anyway, and that is best accomplished without company.” The hawk’s gimlet-eyed gaze touched every one of the host gathered there. They began to disperse, each to their own place. Some took man-shape as they left, while others stayed on four legs or kept their wings. Only the white fox stayed, head still bowed.

“Alone, hm,” the fox murmured. “As if, after 500 long years, I could turn away from her, even for a moment.” 

***

Mai spent a few hours answering questions for the police the next day. They nodded and took notes, and left their cards for her questions. Once they were gone, the hospital discharged her. Asami and Kaiya came to take her home. 

“I can’t believe that guy! What was he even thinking,” Kaiya shook her head. 

“Probably something stupid, like hey! Why stop at embezzlement when I could add assault to my crimes,” Asami chimed in. 

Kaiya sighed. “I’m just glad you’re ok. Who knew costuming could be so dangerous?”

“Right?” Mai gave her friends a tired smile. 

“I guess this means you didn’t get to hook up with Mister Sexy from your past life, huh?” Asami’s smile was sly, though her gentle gaze told Mai she was still worried about her.

“Nope, but he rescued me so I guess that counts for something.” Mai shrugged, then regretted the motion. Her arm ached in the sling, and she wondered how long it would take to heal.

Kaiya gave them both an incredulous look. “What are you talking about? Past life?”

Mai and Asami filled their friend in on the way back to Mai’s flat. By the time they got there, Kaiya was shaking her head. “That is so weird. All of it.” She frowned at Mai. “Maybe it would be a good idea to see a - a therapist or something. And stay away from this guy until you get your head sorted.”

“Kaiya!” Asami looked surprised. “You don’t think it’s romantic? I mean think about it! They could have been lovers before, and now their souls are reaching for each other and -”

“Stuff like that only happens in rom coms and romance novels.” Kaiya took a deep breath. “I’m just saying, it all sounds pretty wild. But what we know is that you got really hurt yesterday, and this guy you’re crushing on - Mitsuhide? He was definitely involved, even if he didn’t hurt you. You might want to take a step back, just to make sure you’re ready for this, whatever it is.”

Mai didn’t like the advice very much, but it did sound pretty sensible. “I’ll think about it anyway,” she said after a moment. “It’s not like there’s any rush.”

“Right?” Kaiya agreed, just as Asami said, “You’re joking!”

The three of them looked at each other, and realized all at once how crazy their argument sounded. They burst into laughter.

Asami helped Mai upstairs, while Kaiya went to grab them lunch. It made Mai feel strange to be the center of so much concern, even with her close friends. Telling her family would be even worse. 

“So did our past-life love bring you the candy and flowers?” Asami asked as she helped Mai sit on her bed.

“No. I got them from -”

“Don’t tell me it’s the one you broke up with? Hideyoshi?” 

Mai shook her head.

“The hot chef guy?” Asami tried again.

“Nope.”

“Oh. My. God. You have another secret admirer?” Asami laughed incredulously. 

“I mean, I don’t think so? It was kind of weird.” Mai told her about the hospital visits, though she left out the peacock and the way she’d thought she saw Ranmaru turn into a white weasel. She wasn’t ready for Asami to think she was that crazy. 

Kaiya showed up about half-way through, so Mai had to start again while the three of them shared sandwiches and the box of chocolates from Ranmaru. Her two friends looked as confused as she felt.

“So, let me get this straight. The chocolates are from some guy you ran into on the train. And a guy you met once while on a date with Hideyoshi came in, with friends, including someone who’s invested in the theater program? And they brought you a support animal?” Kaiya sounded the most incredulous.

Mai nodded. “Yeah. It was weird. But they were all so nice! It kind of, I dunno. Felt like I knew them? Like it sounds weird but it seemed natural while they were there?”

“I think you must have got a concussion,” Asami winked to take the sting from her teasing.

Kaiya laughed. “Honestly, I can’t decide if you’re lucky or not. I’d freak out if a bunch of cute guys I barely know showed up and I was in a hospital bed.”

“Trust me, I was freaking out.” Mai grinned. 

“This just makes me more sure you need to follow up with my hypnotherapist. I asked for you, and he’s got some openings this week.” Asami took out her phone and pulled up a text. “What are you doing Wednesday?”

“Hey, hold on. Are you serious?” Kaiya gave Asami a sidelong glance. “Hypnosis? That’s not even real!”

“How would you know? Did you ever try it?” Asami shot back.

Mai cleared her throat. “Umm. Hey, it might be worth trying. And anyway, Kaiya, I have a favor to ask you.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She hated, absolutely hated asking for favors. “Would you be willing to help me finish out my current orders? I just don’t know - with my arm - how fast I can get them out? And I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I can pay you too!”

Kaiya held up her hand. “Mai. Of course I’ll help. It’s not a big deal. I was actually going to ask you if you needed me. I wasn’t sure how much work you’ve got going on right now.”

“You are my hero.” Mai gave her friend a one-armed hug.

“Mmm. I thought that was the Mitsuhide guy. Didn’t he save you from Mr. Theater-Stabbity-Stab?” Asami glanced up from her phone.

Mai giggled. “He did! But I don’t see him here offering to help stitch beads and finish seams.”

Asami grinned back. “Yeah yeah. I see how it is. Anyway, I booked you for Wednesday afternoon. I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks.” Mai tried to sound certain, though she felt anything but. 

“And, I’ll come over and help with the sewing too. I can’t do much, but I can run deliveries or something, right?” Asami put the phone away and picked up her drink.

“You can stop looking at me like that. I’ll rest after I talk to Mitsuhide,” she told the rabbit. Somehow, it didn’t feel silly talking to him. 

The rabbit huffed and rubbed its face with a paw. Then it hopped over and snuggled onto her lap, placing its paws on top of her uninjured hand. It looked up at her with a serious expression, its nose twitching. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re worried about me.” Mai stroked the bunny’s long, soft ears. “I guess that’s why you’re a good therapy rabbit, huh?”

“He probably is. I know I am.” 

The unexpected voice made Mai do a little hop on the bed. She looked up to see a gorgeous, pink haired guy standing in the doorway. He held a bouquet of pink roses that nearly matched the color of his hair. “Ranmaru?”

He smiled brightly. “You remembered me! I am so glad!” The roses went onto the small table by the door as he stepped closer.

“Umm, of course. But . . .”

“What am I doing here?” He gave a slight shrug. “Well. I heard you were hurt. See, Kennyo - my agent - is old friends with Shingen and, anyway, it’s not important. What matters is, are you ok?” His gaze traveled over her, brows drawing together with worry. 

Mai paused, not sure how to politely ask why a guy she’d met once on the train was in her hospital room. The question felt both completely unnecessary and pretty damn important. There was part of her that felt like, of course Ranmaru was here! And another that found it bizarre. 

“I’m doing ok,” she said after a pause. “But, Ranmaru . . . who are you? Really?”

He smiled with wide, innocent eyes. It was the kind of expression that might completely derail someone’s thoughts with just how adorable he was. “I am so happy you’re alright. When we heard what danger that - that kitsune put you in -”

“Wait, we?”

Ranmaru blushed, and took a breath. “Mm. My manager and I. Anyway, look! I brought you a treat!” He pulled out a candy box in a colorful furoshiki. He handed it to Mai. 

She took it but didn’t open it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I told you who I am on the train. And you remembered me. My last name is Mori, but don’t tell anyone, ‘kay?”

She frowned. “That’s not what I mean. I mean . . . who are you to me? How do you know me?”

Ranmaru’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Umm. Is it ok if I can’t really talk to you about that just yet? Because I could never lie to you, Mai. But some things you have to be ready to hear.”

“I’m ready right now.” Mai crossed her arms and tried to hold onto her frown and her glare. It was hard because the sweet-faced Ranmaru looked as if he might start crying. 

After a long, awkward pause, his shoulders fell. “Alright. I’ll tell you what I can. But you have to promise not to let Mitsuhi- ah!” 

The man appeared behind Ranmaru as if summoned by his name. Mitsuhide’s slender fingers curled around Ranmaru’s shoulder. There was an audible pop and suddenly, Ranmaru was gone. Mitsuhide held a struggling white stoat in his hand.

“It seems you’ve been plagued by visitors without a chance to rest, little mouse.” 

Mai was so shocked she couldn’t speak. 

Mitsuhide’s golden gaze settled on the rabbit in her lap beside the sweets Ranmaru brought. “You should go. She is in my care now.”

The rabbit thumped its foot against the mattress, fur bristling. 

“We can discuss your accusations later, Uesugi.” Mitsuhide’s expression was cold and his tone one of icy disdain. 

After a huff, the bunny leapt down from the bed and loped out of the room. 

Mitsuhide set the stoat down after it and closed the door. “There. Much better.” He smiled and sat down at the edge of Mai’s bed. 

“D-did Ranmaru turn into a weasel? I saw him just - just -” She tried to make sense of it, but the only thing that came to mind were folktales. Stories that clearly weren’t true. Except what she’d just seen could have come from one of them. 

“Is that what happened, little mouse? I think you may be more tired than you realize.” He set a warm hand on her leg, squeezing her calf gently. 

Mai felt a knot of tension she hadn’t even realized she was carrying release at his touch. “I-I am, but he - you -”

Mitsuhide smiled, though the expression looked strained. “And you are on something for the pain as well. Perhaps things are not quite as they seem.”

“No. I want you to tell me now. What - what is going on? How do I know you? And - and the others? Shingen and Sasuke and Ranmaru and -” The stress and horror of her day fell on her all at once. She felt the most absurd urge to fling herself into Mitsuhide’s arms and burrow her face against his chest to cry until the tightness in her released. A tear rolled free from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.

He took her in his arms, careful of her injuries. His scent enfolded her as she pressed her face against his shoulder and let herself relax into his touch. Mitsuhide’s hand stroked her back, slow calming motions to ease her tired heart and mind. 

“I want to - to be mad at you,” she confessed. “You never answer my questions. And something IS happening. Something I - I don’t understand but you,” she leaned back to look him in the eyes. “You are right in the middle of it.”

Mitsuhide’s expression was unreadable. His eyes glinted with hidden secrets and stories, and his lips were pressed to a thin line. “You’ve been through enough for tonight, little one. Why are you looking for more trouble?”

She took a shaky breath. “Is that what you are?”

“Trouble?” He chuckled. “I have been called worse.” He brushed her hair back from her face, his fingertips trailing along the edge of her ear. “I suppose I am.”

Mai took his hand in hers. “I want to know, Mitsuhide. Everything.”

He sighed and stroked a finger along the back of her hand. The sensation was like a candle flame that raced up the nerves of her arm and set her heart on fire. “Everything? I wouldn’t know where to start. And this is not the time for what questions you have.”

“But -”

“You will need to be focused when you speak to the police. They want your report of tonight’s events. I don’t want you to worry about . . . other things.” His thumb was a warm, comforting pressure at her wrist. “Trust me.”

“I do. I don’t know why but I do.” Mai didn’t want to think too long on that statement. It was irrational, mad really. She knew very little about Mitsuhide. And though he’d saved her, he also put her in danger. “Just please, next time you set up a clever plot, can you just . . . I dunno. Warn me?”

Mitsuhide stroked his finger along the line of her jaw, stopping at her chin. “I will. I promise.”

She studied his face, hoping for some sign of his thoughts. After a moment, Mai gave up the effort. “Alright. I’ll take that, I guess.” 

“Good. Now, little mouse, you need to sleep.” His crescent moon smile returned as he brushed his thumb over her brows. “Your eyes are puffy.”

“You are so -” Mai felt at a loss for words. But his teasing really did make her feel better. “Just grrrr.”

“Mmm. Just?” 

A laugh escaped her still-parted lips. “Yeah. Pretty much.” 

Mitsuhide ruffled her hair. “I shall endeavor to be more. I’d hate to be relegated to a mere sound of frustration in your mind.” 

“I wouldn’t say mere. Sometimes you’re practically a symphony.” 

“Of more than frustration, I hope?” His golden gaze was impossible to look away from. The playful glint, the soft vulnerability in them intoxicated her. 

Mai swallowed. “A - a lot more.”

“Then I will be satisfied for now.” He moved to stand, relinquishing his hold on her.

“Wait!”

Mitsuhide paused, an eyebrow raised.

“I - I don’t want to be alone right now. I won’t sleep if - if you leave.” It was a bit of emotional blackmail, she knew. But it was true as well. She didn’t want to be alone, and more than that, she wanted the company of one particular, infuriating man.

His thin smile stretched wide, a soft, resigned exhalation. “I have places to be, but there is a little time between. I will stay, just until you fall asleep. Is that acceptable?”

She nodded, feeling a little guilty. 

Mitsuhide sat down again on the edge of the bed. “Lie down. All the way.” He gently took hold of her shoulder and supported her as she laid back. Then he tugged the blanket up to her chin and made sure her arms were under it. 

“I’m not a little kid,” Mai pouted, feeling exactly like a child. 

“No. You aren’t.” He drew a hand over her face, his fingertips brushed lightly over her. The light touch caused her eyes to flutter shut. 

Mai found it hard to open them again. The thin hospital blanket felt warm with Mitsuhide sitting so close. Her body gave in to the need to sleep. The world drifted away, all her questions, all her worries, sliding away into a comforting darkness. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for staying.”

The last words she heard before sleep took her, “I have never been able to deny you, little one.”

***

A hawk sat on a bare branch of an ancient cedar tree, staring down imperiously at the other animals gathered there. A one eyed tiger striped cat sat on a lower branch, cleaning its fur while a white rabbit chewed furiously at a clover blossom below it. A squirrel perched, half hidden in the foliage, while a pig snuffled around the roots, ridden by a small, grey hamster. There were other even stranger animals - a kangaroo, and a white weasel, a peacock, and a wolf. In the center, at the base of the vast trunk, sat a single white fox with golden eyes.

“She could have died. Again. The kitsune’s worse at this than I am.” The kangaroo spoke, his voice loud enough to carry through the odd gathering. 

The fox sniffed. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“No? Because if this is your protection, the angel might be better off without your interference,” the bear rumbled.

“A true tactician would have considered the possibility of her arrival, and planned for it,” piped the small, grey hamster with violet eyes. His fur bristled as he glared at the fox.

Several other voices rose then, a cacophony of worry and anger. The hawk cut it short with a harsh cry. “Enough!” His piercing, garnet gaze pinned each of the animals to where they stood, sat, or perched. “Let the kitsune speak.”

The fox swished its tail once, a grin spreading over his face, but with fangs bared it was anything but friendly. “Thank you all for your . . . insights. The little mouse would be overwhelmed by your concern.” His red tongue lolled between his jaws as he turned his head to regard each animal with a hard, cold golden eye. “She may not be so pleased that you all think her cowardly or incapable.”

“Hey! We never said that,” growled a wolf, hackles raised. The bear beside him put a paw on the wolf’s back, smoothing the grey-brown fur. 

“Oh? Is it not implied?” The white fox widened one eye as if to arch his brow.

The gathering exploded again in a mix of voices and bestial growls. Surprisingly, it was the rabbit that brought them to order this time. The white bunny thumped its foot hard against a tree root until the rest of the beasts fell quiet. “Make your point, kitsune. I am bored of talking.”

“My point? Hmmm.” The fox smiled again. “Only that you have all discounted how very capable my little mouse is. I could not keep her out of harm’s way before, and I cannot now. None of you can, because she is not a bauble to be locked away. She is brave, assertive. Independent. And I am proud of her, even as I regret the pain she suffered.”

A low murmur spread out from the tree then, a mix of approval and consternation. 

“This was still your fault, Akechi,” the pig said, his voice laced with a sharp bitterness that seemed in opposition to his cheery demeanor.

“I do not deny that. I should have moved to secure Keiki more quickly.” The fox bowed his head. 

Several animals spoke up then, all saying they could have protected her, kept her from harm. The hawk spoke over them in a tone that brooked no dissent. “Uesugi, Kennyo, Takeda and I will speak privately on this. Until then, none shall interfere with our little fireball.”

“None? What does that mean?” A small monkey poked its head from the leafy branch near the hawk, gentle brown eyes wide and unhappy.

“Leave her alone for now. She will need rest anyway, and that is best accomplished without company.” The hawk’s gimlet-eyed gaze touched every one of the host gathered there. They began to disperse, each to their own place. Some took man-shape as they left, while others stayed on four legs or kept their wings. Only the white fox stayed, head still bowed.

“Alone, hm,” the fox murmured. “As if, after 500 long years, I could turn away from her, even for a moment.” 

***

Mai spent a few hours answering questions for the police the next day. They nodded and took notes, and left their cards for her questions. Once they were gone, the hospital discharged her. Asami and Kaiya came to take her home. 

“I can’t believe that guy! What was he even thinking,” Kaiya shook her head. 

“Probably something stupid, like hey! Why stop at embezzlement when I could add assault to my crimes,” Asami chimed in. 

Kaiya sighed. “I’m just glad you’re ok. Who knew costuming could be so dangerous?”

“Right?” Mai gave her friends a tired smile. 

“I guess this means you didn’t get to hook up with Mister Sexy from your past life, huh?” Asami’s smile was sly, though her gentle gaze told Mai she was still worried about her.

“Nope, but he rescued me so I guess that counts for something.” Mai shrugged, then regretted the motion. Her arm ached in the sling, and she wondered how long it would take to heal.

Kaiya gave them both an incredulous look. “What are you talking about? Past life?”

Mai and Asami filled their friend in on the way back to Mai’s flat. By the time they got there, Kaiya was shaking her head. “That is so weird. All of it.” She frowned at Mai. “Maybe it would be a good idea to see a - a therapist or something. And stay away from this guy until you get your head sorted.”

“Kaiya!” Asami looked surprised. “You don’t think it’s romantic? I mean think about it! They could have been lovers before, and now their souls are reaching for each other and -”

“Stuff like that only happens in rom coms and romance novels.” Kaiya took a deep breath. “I’m just saying, it all sounds pretty wild. But what we know is that you got really hurt yesterday, and this guy you’re crushing on - Mitsuhide? He was definitely involved, even if he didn’t hurt you. You might want to take a step back, just to make sure you’re ready for this, whatever it is.”

Mai didn’t like the advice very much, but it did sound pretty sensible. “I’ll think about it anyway,” she said after a moment. “It’s not like there’s any rush.”

“Right?” Kaiya agreed, just as Asami said, “You’re joking!”

The three of them looked at each other, and realized all at once how crazy their argument sounded. They burst into laughter.

Asami helped Mai upstairs, while Kaiya went to grab them lunch. It made Mai feel strange to be the center of so much concern, even with her close friends. Telling her family would be even worse. 

“So did our past-life love bring you the candy and flowers?” Asami asked as she helped Mai sit on her bed.

“No. I got them from -”

“Don’t tell me it’s the one you broke up with? Hideyoshi?” 

Mai shook her head.

“The hot chef guy?” Asami tried again.

“Nope.”

“Oh. My. God. You have another secret admirer?” Asami laughed incredulously. 

“I mean, I don’t think so? It was kind of weird.” Mai told her about the hospital visits, though she left out the peacock and the way she’d thought she saw Ranmaru turn into a white weasel. She wasn’t ready for Asami to think she was that crazy. 

Kaiya showed up about half-way through, so Mai had to start again while the three of them shared sandwiches and the box of chocolates from Ranmaru. Her two friends looked as confused as she felt.

“So, let me get this straight. The chocolates are from some guy you ran into on the train. And a guy you met once while on a date with Hideyoshi came in, with friends, including someone who’s invested in the theater program? And they brought you a support animal?” Kaiya sounded the most incredulous.

Mai nodded. “Yeah. It was weird. But they were all so nice! It kind of, I dunno. Felt like I knew them? Like it sounds weird but it seemed natural while they were there?”

“I think you must have got a concussion,” Asami winked to take the sting from her teasing.

Kaiya laughed. “Honestly, I can’t decide if you’re lucky or not. I’d freak out if a bunch of cute guys I barely know showed up and I was in a hospital bed.”

“Trust me, I was freaking out.” Mai grinned. 

“This just makes me more sure you need to follow up with my hypnotherapist. I asked for you, and he’s got some openings this week.” Asami took out her phone and pulled up a text. “What are you doing Wednesday?”

“Hey, hold on. Are you serious?” Kaiya gave Asami a sidelong glance. “Hypnosis? That’s not even real!”

“How would you know? Did you ever try it?” Asami shot back.

Mai cleared her throat. “Umm. Hey, it might be worth trying. And anyway, Kaiya, I have a favor to ask you.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She hated, absolutely hated asking for favors. “Would you be willing to help me finish out my current orders? I just don’t know - with my arm - how fast I can get them out? And I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I can pay you too!”

Kaiya held up her hand. “Mai. Of course I’ll help. It’s not a big deal. I was actually going to ask you if you needed me. I wasn’t sure how much work you’ve got going on right now.”

“You are my hero.” Mai gave her friend a one-armed hug.

“Mmm. I thought that was the Mitsuhide guy. Didn’t he save you from Mr. Theater-Stabbity-Stab?” Asami glanced up from her phone.

Mai giggled. “He did! But I don’t see him here offering to help stitch beads and finish seams.”

Asami grinned back. “Yeah yeah. I see how it is. Anyway, I booked you for Wednesday afternoon. I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks.” Mai tried to sound certain, though she felt anything but. 

“And, I’ll come over and help with the sewing too. I can’t do much, but I can run deliveries or something, right?” Asami put the phone away and picked up her drink.

His fingers brush the inked design, tracing the outline of the leaping fish. “It is very well done.” He does not sound pleased, though he’s trying to hide it.

“You don’t.” A slight pout draws your lips out and down. 

Nobunaga stills behind you, so motionless that you don’t even feel him breathing. Just as you are about to break the silence, he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest. “It is part of you, so it is beautiful.” His chin rests on your shoulder, just above the tattoo in question. “Why did you receive this mark?”

There is an unexpected tension in his voice, and you laugh to ease it before explaining. “I got it after I graduated from design. It represents my struggles, and my determination.” You turn your head to kiss his cheek. 

He regards you with a serious expression, tense despite your affection. 

“Do you really hate it?” You can’t help how vulnerable you feel as you meet his carnelian gaze.

“I told you. It is beautiful, as you are. But . . .” He pauses, a slight grimace crossing his expression. “I do not like that someone marked you. Someone else claimed this -” He leans back to spread his hand over the koi. “Every part of you is mine.”

“Are you jealous of my tattoo artist?” You grin, unable to hold back. “You know I picked the design and the colors and everything, right? He was just some guy with a good flash book . . .”

Nobunaga’s frown does not ease, though you know that he’s aware this is ridiculous. 

You snuggle back against him. “Alright, alright. I understand. If you could do tattoos, I’d get one from you, ok?”

Something mischievous flickers in his gaze and a slight smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “Yes. This is acceptable.”

You aren’t sure what he’s accepting. Nobunaga can’t do tattoos, right? Right? Whatever questions you have disappear as his lips find that sensitive spot at the back of your neck. 

Hideyoshi

You roll up your sleeves to start working on the kitchen’s herb garden. The day is warm and sunny, promising a hot afternoon. It’s a good thing you’re starting early. 

About an hour into the weeding, Hideyoshi stops by with a tray of cool water and a wide straw hat. He kneels beside you. “You know it’s bad for your skin to be exposed to sunlight for so long. Even in the morning, you can’t -” He stops midword, his mouth hanging open.

“Hm?” You look up, dusting your hands off. Before you can ask anything else, Hideyoshi grabs your elbow.

“What is this?” 

You realize he’s pointing at the serpent tattoo on your forearm. The snake curls over itself in a complex circle, with the head pointing at your wrist and the tale toward your elbow. “Oh! Erm,” you give an embarrassed laugh. “That.”

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” Hideyoshi holds your arm up, inspecting it. “A thief. I should have guessed. What prefecture is this? Where are you really from?” The questions come lightning fast, his usual gentle lecturing tone replaced with a hard, brittleness that does not suit him at all.

“A thief? Are you serious right now?” You try to yank your arm back, going from bewildered to angry. 

Hideyoshi pulls you up to standing. “If you won’t answer my questions, maybe you’ll answer Mitsuhide’s.” He glares at you. “I can’t believe I - I called you my sister!” 

You take a breath, trying to hold in the tears suddenly threatening at the corners of your eyes. Sister. Why was this man so infuriating? First putting you in the sis-zone, and now accusing you. As if you hadn’t shared so many sweet moments. Almost-kisses. Holding hands. “Why are you freaking out about my tattoo?”

“It marks you as a criminal.” He sighs, looking away. “If you’ll come clean with me, maybe we can -”

“Come clean? Hideyoshi, I told you I’m not from here. In my ah, my village, people get tattoos because they like the way they look.” You wiggle your arm in his grasp. “This one means the cycle of life. Birth and death. Look at it!”

Hideyoshi slowly turns back to examine the mark on your arm. “It is . . . very finely done for a - a punishment.” He purses his lips. “And I do not know of a prefecture that uses a snake . . .”

You nod emphatically. “Exactly. And you know me. Hideyoshi?” Your tone brings his gaze to your face. 

He studies you for a moment. Then his grip loosens on your arm, the pad of his thumb stroking your inked flesh. “I may have, um, jumped to conclusions. My apologies.” A breath, then, “Sis.”

“Thanks.” You take your arm back, feelings still hurt. 

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. Then he drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side. “Let me apologize properly, after work tonight. Stop by after your bath and I’ll rub some oil on your arms and legs.” Hideyoshi’s cheeks hold a faint heat. “A brother should care for his sister when she’s working so hard.”

You know he knows there’s nothing brotherly in the touches you share, but you nod in acquiescence. Then you pull away. “The garden won’t weed itself,” you say.

He grins. “I suppose not.” Hideyoshi’s hand takes yours before you can take a step. “It’s nice. Your tattoo. Once I really looked at it.”

“Thanks,” you smile back, feeling a little better. “I’m looking forward to my massage tonight.” You give him a cheeky wink. 

Masamune

You splash to the river’s surface, sputtering from the water in your mouth and nose. Masamune laughs beside you, his strong arm holding you up above the roiling surface of the water as the current pushes you both downstream.

“Maybe next time we should look for a bridge,” you shout to be heard over the river.

“Nah. Where’s the fun in that?” Masamune’s blue eye gleams with unfettered joy as he pulls you toward the opposite shore. 

Once you hit the bank and crawl out, you flop back onto the grassy hillside. “Fun? Not drowning is fun. And now I’m soaked.” You glance over to see Masamune already stripping down, laying his clothes out to dry. 

He grins when he sees your expression. “What’s the matter, kitten? Tiger got your tongue?”

“Pffft.” You sit up, ignoring the way your face heats. You shrug out of your kimono, very aware of how thin your linen underclothes are. Especially now that they are wet and clinging to your skin. 

Masamune’s appreciative look does not help. He grins unapologetically. “I should come out this way more often. Great view.”

You throw a clump of grass at him and jump up to run. He chases you, laughing, and catches you pretty quickly. 

His laughter stops with a sharp inhale. “Are you hurt?”

You realize that he’s noticed the ink on your side, a tiger in the midst of peonies. The red, pink, and orange probably look like a wound beneath the opaque cloth. “No, nothing like that.” You carefully tug the linen up to show him your tattoo. 

“Wow.” His eye is wide as he takes in the art piece. “Gorgeous.” His calloused finger brushes the skin on your side, sending a shiver across your belly and up your ribcage. “It’s like a painting.”

“Thanks.” You feel more than a little self conscious, but also gratified by his reaction. “It’s supposed to be, like, fragility and strength? Together?” You find yourself a little tongue tied, too focused on his warm hand touching you. 

Masamune finally looks up, catching your gaze. “It fits you, kitten. Strong and fragile.” His expression is more serious than you’re used to. A deeper emotion moves in the depths of his blue eye. 

The urge to kiss him is strong, but you resist. You tug the cloth back down and step away, heart beating frantically. Masamune likes to flirt, you think, that’s all. You wrack your brain for a witty comment and come up empty. 

He smiles, drops his hands. “Our clothes should dry out soon, and then we can continue on.”

“The temple better be awesome. You’ve talked it up too much to take anything less than.” Your destination is safer ground, you think, jumping right into the new topic.

Masamune laughs. “There’s not another like it anywhere.” Something about the way he says it makes you wonder if he means the temple you’re traveling to or something else. 

“Worth the trip then?”

A sudden case of nerves hit her as the door came into view. The last time she’d seen Mitsuhide, he flirted outrageously. But then he hadn’t tried to kiss her goodbye. Buuuut he did call their outing a date . . . so . . . that had to mean something? Something good even. 

“He likes you. Come on, Mai. You know he does. And - and if not, well, we’ll just -” she swallowed. “Take some snaps of the stage and props. And go. No harm done.” Except, the flip-flop flutters in her belly told her there would absolutely be harm if he was there and brushed her off. 

She took one more steadying breath and went inside. The hall and back offices were dark and empty. That should be no surprise, considering the day and the time, but it felt off somehow. Mai passed the nest of cubicles and desks with an uneasy feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach. 

The hall ahead was lightless, save for the emergency exit sign which cast a dim red glow on the far side. This hall ran behind and slightly beneath the stage, a back-back-stage where costumes and props were carried up from storage. There were a few private office doors and dressing rooms, some of which were open. She paused at the first one to peer into the lightless gloom. 

Darker-than-dark silhouettes of desk furniture greeted her nervous curiosity. Mai swallowed, heart racing. She knew the shapes were just a desk, a chair, and perhaps a bookshelf? Or a coat rack? Some tall, dark shadow that took up one corner. Her hand reached for the light switch. The fluorescent ceiling light flickered into life, revealing exactly what should be here. Just a shelf. 

She breathed a sigh of relief and flipped the switch off again. I’ve got to stop being so jumpy, she thought. There was no one at the theater but her, which was disappointing, but no reason to be scared. Mai squared her shoulders. “Ok. So it’s just me and the ghosts of productions past. Let’s get our stage snaps and go.”

Just as she finished speaking, a sound came from one of the other darkened rooms. A soft whup, like a pile of cloth falling to the ground. Mai nearly jumped. “Hello?”

More sounds came from nearby, but she couldn’t tell from which doorway. A hissing scrape, the thud of a drawer closing. She backed up, scared to turn and run. One hand pawed at the wall reaching for a light switch she wasn’t close enough to hit. Her other hand rummaged in her small purse, trembling fingers failing to grip her phone. 

A dark figure stumbled into the hall. Though she couldn’t see the face, she could tell it was looking at her. Then it rushed forward, movements jerky and awkward. 

Mai screamed and turned to run. Terror burned through her veins, fear sped her up and slowed her down as she tripped over her own feet. A cold, hard grip caught her and pulled her up. 

“You.” Warm breath that stank of alcohol flooded her face. “This is your fault.”

“M-me?” She tried to pull away from the man, but he was stronger than her. Bigger framed. 

“You gotta fix it. I’m gonna make you.” 

Mai recognized the voice then. “Mr. Keiki?” She struggled even harder as the realization set in. He was here, and drunk. And she was alone with him. 

He laughed, a harsh barking sound that held no humor. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know. Stupid girl. Thought you’d get the better of me.” Keiki dragged her toward the office he’d come from. “No one . . . not some insignificant . . . worthless . . .” He was so angry and so wasted that his words turned into a garbled senseless noise. 

Keiki and Mai froze at a sudden bang. The lights in the cubicle area flickered to life and three uniformed officers rushed into the theater. They spotted Mai and Keiki in the same moment. Everything seemed to slow as the officers reached for their weapons, shouting orders to stop.

Mai felt a flare of hope. Somehow, they’d shown up just in time to save her. She opened her mouth to call out to them, but her jaw snapped painfully shut as Keiki jerked her into the nearest doorway. Something in her arm tore loose as he pulled her against his chest. “L-let me g-”

“Shut up.” Keiki pressed something cold and sharp to her throat. “Shut up and let me think.”

“Mr. Keiki. Please. I - I don’t know what’s happened. But you have to let me go.” She hated the pleading tone of her voice, the quaver of fear. Mai swallowed. “I - I’ll tell them this is a misunderstanding. Whatever has happened -”

A cold sharpness dug into the soft flesh of her throat. “I said shut up.” Keiki glanced wildly about the room. They were in a sidewing to the main stage, surrounded by boxes and costume racks. Behind them, the stage was screened from view by a heavy black velvet curtain. The lights here had come on as they stumbled in, signaling that the police found the master switch at the front of the hall. “You’re gonna tell them I paid you. All of it,” he growled. “The money . . .”

The police were moving around at the end of the hall, whispering. The faint clatter of their gear and the hum of low voices reached Mai. A reassurance that help was just a little ways away. She just needed to get loose. “I - I will. I’ll tell them whatever you want.”

A familiar voice rang out, one that made Mai’s heart speed for another reason entirely. “Mr. Keiki! What are you doing? Taking a hostage? Do you really think that’s going to help your case?” The sound of footsteps came closer. 

“I-I’ll kill her if you come in here!” Keiki pushed harder at her throat, the cold yielding to a sudden hot flash of pain. 

“I’m on your side. I want to help you sort this out.” Mitsuhide came into view. His eyes were burnished gold, a dangerous heat burning in their depths. He held out his hands to show they were empty. 

Keiki’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into Mai’s arm. “Tell him.”

Mai met Mitsuhide’s gaze, warmth and strength flowing into her. “He paid me? All of the money. I -” She glanced at Keiki. “I take the blame.”

“Of course you do.” Mitsuhide’s smile grew thinner, sharper. His eyes lit on her throat. “But it would be so much more believable if you weren’t bleeding.” He looked back up at Keiki. “Let her go. We both know she’s got nothing to do with this.”

“No.” There was fear in Keiki’s voice now. “She can fix this. If I let her go, I’ve got nothing.”

Mitsuhide tsked as if chiding a small and stupid child. “Holding her hostage won’t help. Just think about what happens next. I’m sure the penalty for kidnapping, assault, and murder is much worse than theft and embezzlement. Let her go.” Despite the silky persuasive tone of his voice, Mai could hear the steel beneath. A serpentine venom, the coiled tension of a snake about to strike. 

Keiki laughed. “It doesn’t matter what the penalty is. If I can’t clear these - these baseless accusations . . . no one will ever hire me after this. All my work . . . my contacts . . . everything . . . gone!” His laughter turned into a sob, the desperation of the guilty. 

Mai felt the pressure against her neck increase, the sharp tip of the letter opener parting her skin. Tearing it. He was going to kill her, she realized. Somehow, the reality of that hadn’t settled in - but it did now. She was going to die. The thought paralyzed her.

“Do you trust me?”

It took Mai a moment to realize Mitsuhide spoke to her and not to Mr. Keiki. Did she? He was still a mystery. Mitsuhide rarely answered her questions. He always seemed to be hiding something - something big. But . . . she did. She trusted him, even if she couldn’t explain why. Mai mouthed the word yes. 

Mitsuhide’s gaze warmed for a heartbeat, his smile almost gentle. 

“Why are you asking her that? What do you -” Keiki scrambled back, and for a moment they were both tangled in the thick, suffocating folds of the stage curtain. Then past it, standing on the darkened stage. The safety lights along the aisles painted the space with deep shadows, distorted shapes of rails and chairs. 

Mitsuhide followed, still smiling. “Do you know what my favorite thing about theater is?”

“What? No.” Keiki made a choked sounding laugh. “What do I care?”

“I love playing a role. Villain. Hero.” His gaze brushed Mai’s, “A lover or husband.” He advanced and Keiki moved back. “I can be all of those things. At once, or singularly. Farm boy and court schemer. Emperor and peasant.” 

As he spoke, he moved closer. Every step sent Keiki back two, dragging Mai with him. The sharp tip dug relentlessly into her throat, a fiery agony that pulsed with her lifeblood. A centimeter, perhaps two, separated her from a mortal wound. But Mitsuhide had a plan, she thought. He would get her out of this, somethow.

Keiki’s grip on her arm loosened the slightest bit. “So? Why are you telling me this? You should be negotiating! I want - I want the charges to go away. Make it happen, or I’ll kill her. I will.” 

“Negotiating?” Mitsuhide seemed to mull the word over. “I played that part a time or two.” He shrugged. “So you want to make a deal. The girl in exchange for a pardon? No. You want something to smooth it all away, like this never happened. Disappear the records of all the money you’ve siphoned out of the theater, hm?”

“Yes! Do it. Or I’ll-”

“Kill her. You said that.” He settled back on his heels. “Ok. I know some people. I can make that happen for you.” Mitsuhide’s eyes held a darkness deeper than the gloom. “Let her go and I can make that call.”

Keiki shook his head. “Make the call and then I let her go.” 

“Seems I can’t outmaneuver you,” Mitsuhide chuckled. He took his phone from his jacket pocket, moving slowly.

“Of course not. You’re just some jumped up actor.” Keiki snorted. He gestured at the phone with the letter opener. “Call the police off first.”

Mai saw Mitsuhide move the moment the sharp point moved away from her throat. He flowed forward, the motion fast and fluid, like water running downhill. He grabbed the letter opener with one hand, wrenching it away from Keiki, pushing him back with the other. 

For a heartbeat, Mai fell backward with Mr. Keiki. A heartbeat, suspended in the air, nothing supporting her, only Keiki’s grasping fingers as he flailed for purchase. Then Mitsuhide grabbed her arm. He caught her as Keiki fell down into one of the stage’s trapdoors. 

“Little one,” Mitsuhide breathed the words, his eyes revealing a mix of tangled emotions. He threw down the scarlet-smeared letter opener and wrapped his arm around her chest, pulling her up and onto the stage. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

Mai tried to calm herself. She felt like a leaf, trembling in the wind. Her hand fluttered at her throat, almost touching the seeping wound there. “I - I came to see you. I was . . . going to take pictures . . .” Her eyes skittered over the dark stage where impressive backdrops of the imperial palace were arranged. This all felt strangely familiar.

He pulled her close, arms wrapping around her shoulders, his face pressed against her hair. Mitsuhide took a shuddering breath, tension easing as he clung tightly to her. “I thought I was going to lose you again,” he murmured.

“I’m ok. I’m still here.” Mai hugged him back with one arm. The other hung useless at her side, a testament to how not-ok she was. 

Mitsuhide gave a choked laugh. “And now you are comforting me, when it is you that was hurt.” He kissed the top of her head. “What else? Will you offer kind words to Keiki?”

Mai glanced behind her at the trapdoor. The police were collecting Mr. Keiki from the floor. He glared up at them, sullen and angry, but silent. “No. I’m not that nice.”

“Good.” He stepped back, taking her in with a glance. His jaw clenched as his eyes landed on her arm. “How do you feel?”

“I - I don’t know? Numb. Everything is just . . .” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you. I don’t know what might have happened if you weren’t here.”

“Don’t thank me, little mouse. This is my fault. I should have warned you to stay home tonight. I didn’t want you to be part of this. I wanted you safe.” Mitsuhide looked away and took a moment to master his emotions. When he looked back, he wore a familiar smile. “It seems no matter how much time passes, you end up in the middle of things.”

“Well, you can’t expect me to sit home and knit.” Mai frowned. Her arm was starting to hurt again now, and the cut in her neck stung. “Although, if I’d known I was going to get grabbed and stabbed, I would have given tonight a pass.”

He laughed wryly. “A choice I can agree with, but done is done.” His fingertips grazed her arm. “Let’s get your injuries seen to.”

Around them, the theater was coming alive with lights and the entrance of more police and other first responders. They checked Mitsuhide over as Mai was laid on a stretcher and carried out, despite her protests that she could walk just fine. She didn’t think she needed to be carried when it was her arm that hurt, and not her legs.

Mitsuhide ruffled her hair. “I’ll see you at the hospital. Don’t get into any more trouble.” 

“Pfft.” She grinned, despite the pain. There was just something about him that made her feel better. “If I get into trouble, it will be because someone carried me there.”

He might have replied, but two officers closed in and pulled Mitsuhide aside for his statement. Mai gave him a wave with her good arm as she was carried away.

***

The hospital was cold. Mai shivered under the thin blanket of her hospital bed. She felt tired in every way, and her eyes kept slipping shut in long, slow blinks. Even the uncomfortable sling on her arm and the sting of the stitches in her neck weren’t enough to keep her alert. She wanted to stay awake though, at least until Mitsuhide came. She wanted to . . . but her eyelids were so heavy.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt someone settle at the foot of her bed. Only, it wasn’t Mitsuhide sitting there. A peacock rested there, holding her in its obsidian regard. The bird was beautiful, feathers gleaming with sapphire and emerald hues. 

Mai tried to wake herself. She knew peacocks weren’t allowed in hospitals, ergo, there was no peacock on her bed. Which meant she was dreaming, and she might miss Mitsuhide when he stopped by. She pinched her earlobe hard enough that it sent a little shock of pain all the way to her cheek. 

The peacock tilted its head and blinked, as if asking what she was doing. 

“Look, you’re very pretty but I don’t want to be asleep right now. I need to wake up. So if you could just not look at me like that? I don’t know why I’m dreaming about a peacock anyway. I guess it’s better than a nightmare about Mr - well, about things I don’t want to think about.” She sighed. 

The bird leapt onto the floor, disappearing beyond the end of the bed. 

Mai tried to sit up, but her shoulder flared with pain at the movement. “Ugh. Why am I injured in my dream? I should just imagine myself healed up, right?” She looked at the vitals monitor next to her bed, and the IV drip. It was all so detailed and realistic. And outside, a nurse passed her doorway, rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the tile floor. 

Everything looked very much the way it should in the waking world, she realized. Which meant - Mai sat up suddenly, despite the flare of hot agony in her arm. There was, in fact, a peacock sitting on the floor. In her hospital room. “Umm. Ok. So I’m not dreaming. You are really here. Staring at me.”

The peacock preened, and then leapt up to perch on the back of a chair. 

“Right. Ok. I guess that’s fine. Peacock in my hospital room. Are you an emotional support animal?” Mai got no response from the bird, of course. She took a breath and looked up at the bright ceiling lights. “I guess it could be weirder.”

“Weirder? How so?” 

The response made Mai jump, and sent another shooting pain through her body. She instinctively pulled the injured arm closer to her chest as she turned toward the voice. A man sat in the chair where the bird had been a moment ago. He was a stranger to her, and she should have been frightened - but there was something calming about his gentle smile. 

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man tilted his head and blinked, the gesture reminiscent of the peacock.

He was gorgeous, she realized. His eyes were a pallid shade of honey, his skin like porcelain, and his long dark hair hung silkily over his shoulder. He looked like a man from a cologne commercial, she thought. Or one of those shampoo ads. Too pretty to be real. But he was sitting there, no filter, no photoshop. And waiting for her response. 

“You . . . it’s, umm, it’s fine. I thought there was a - a - you know what? It doesn’t matter.” Mai took a moment to focus. “Who are you, anyway? A mo-” She stopped herself before she said model. More likely, “A lawyer?” 

The man laughed softly, a sound as pretty as he was. “My thoughts have never been drawn to legal matters. No, I am a representative from the national theater program. You may call me Yoshimoto.”

Mai nodded. “Alright, Mr. Yoshimoto. Do I need to give you a statement or something?”

“Please, just Yoshimoto. And no. I am simply here to make sure you’re alright. We didn’t realize Keiki would take such a violent action.” His brow creased with concern. “Are you?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Her body had its hurts, and she felt a heavy anxiety as her mind touched on the memory of Keiki’s arms around her. The feel of cold metal against her throat. “I . . .”

Yoshimoto looked down, his whole posture evincing sorrow. “Of course. That was an inconsiderate question. Please forgive me.”

“No, Yoshimoto. It’s fine. I am ok. A - a little shaken up? And achy? But alright. Mitsuhide came just in time.”

When he looked up again, there was a slight smile lifting the edges of his perfect lips. Mai wondered what kind of lip gloss he wore. That satin sheen could not be all natural. “Thank you for being so kind. You have a tendency to put others first, but please, do not prioritize my comfort.” He reached out and took her hand. 

Mai felt like she was drowning in his wide gaze as he drew closer to her. 

“Allow me to apologize. When Mitsuhide came to me with his information, we should have taken more precautions in removing Keiki. I never would have moved forward, knowing you might be hurt.” Yoshimoto’s voice was melodic, almost hypnotic. 

“Cuz, even I know better than to seduce a woman in a hospital.” A low laugh came from the door and both Yoshimoto and Mai turned toward it. 

“Shingen?” Mai’s eyebrows shot up. This was the cheesy hot guy from the amusement park. The one with the rude friend. And the rude guy was right behind him. 

“I am flattered you remembered me.” He smiled and his grin made the room feel brighter.

“Yes, you and, um -” Mai stared at the rude boy, searching her mind for his name. “Yoshiki? No. Yusei?”

“Yuki.” His lower lip stuck out in a pout. “I can’t believe you remembered this guy and not me.”

Yoshimoto laughed. “I am sure it’s only due to the stress of the evening, Yukimura. You always leave quite an impression.”

This did not appear to mollify him, but he only huffed as he followed Shingen in. 

“I do remember you,” Mai insisted. “You called me a boar woman. So stop making that face.”

“I’ll make this face if I want to. And - and I’m not even making some kind of face! You are!” Yuki glared at her, but the expression softened as his gaze flitted to her bandaged neck. “I - look, I just came to make sure you were alright. Here.” He shoved a box of candy at her and then stormed out.

“Wait, what? Yuki?” She called after him, but he didn’t stop or turn. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Shingen told her with a sigh. “He’s still learning how to talk to girls.”

“Umm. Ok?” Mai looked at the box of candies. “Can you tell him thanks for me?”

“I would do any task for you, angel.” Shingen’s grey eyes shone. “Is there anything else you want me to do? I could be your nurse. Give you a very special sponge-”

“That is quite enough. We did not come here to make the girl uncomfortable.” Another man graced the entry. And graced was the right word. He was tall, though not as tall as Shingen, and his hair was almost the same light shade as Mitsuhide’s, with eyes that shone a deep violet blue. 

Mai blinked. Who was this guy? And why was her room filled with extremely attractive strangers. “Do you all work in theater?” The question popped out before she thought it through. But honestly, the only excuse for so many hot guys in one place had to be that they were actors. 

“No, Kanetsugu doesn’t work for the theater program in any capacity. But his boss is one of our patrons. As is Shingen.” Yoshimoto smiled gently and squeezed the hand he still held. 

“Correct.” Kanetsugu nodded. “I am here at Lord Uesugi’s request.” He held up a bunny. It was white, with long, floppy ears, and a delicate poof of a cotton-tail. It gazed at Mai with its odd eyes, one a brilliant green and the other, an icy blue. 

“Why . . . why are you carrying a rabbit?” Mai stared at the bunny. It was adorable, and she felt an urge to pet its soft fur. 

Kanetsugu arched an eyebrow. 

“Emotional support animal.” A familiar voice said from behind the violet-eyed man. Sasuke stepped out to stand beside him. “We brought Ke-, ah, the bunny to keep you company and make you feel better.”

“Sasuke! Hello again.” Mai smiled at the familiar face. Though she’d only really met him once, she felt like she knew him well. “Did Mitsuhide send you?”

“Afraid not. But since Yoshimoto and Shingen were helping him out, I’ve been in the loop.” His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. 

Kanetsugu sighed. “Yes. We’ve all been in the loop.” He walked to the other side of her bed and set the rabbit onto her blanket. “You must treat this bunny with proper respect and care. Do not let him jump as he likes, and be careful of what he eats. Rabbits have very sensitive stomachs. And when petting him, stroke in the direction the hair grows. But! Only if he initiates the contact. You cannot simply handle him like some petting zoo rabbit.”

“I think she gets it,” Shingen interrupted. He gazed balefully at the rabbit and murmured, “Some guys have all the luck.”

“Hm?” Mai glanced at him, though her attention was on the bunny as it made itself comfortable on her lap. 

“Nothing, angel. I was just thinking a rabbit is easier to sneak into a hospital than a bear.” 

Sasuke chuckled. “Not sure how you’d manage that.”

Yoshimoto only smiled. 

Mai nodded agreement. “Mmm. Yeah a bear is pretty big. You know, it’s so weird though. I thought there was a peacock in my room. Just before Yoshimoto came? But I bet it would be pretty hard to sneak one of those in too.” She laughed. “Maybe they gave me a stronger painkiller than I thought.”

Shingen and Yoshimoto shared a look. “You’re right about that, angel. Though I imagine all things in nature cried out when you were hurt, and would want to comfort you.”

“Eh, hahaha, no. I mean, that’s really sweet of you to say. But I’m no one important.” Mai felt her cheeks heat. This guy was an outrageous flatterer, she thought. 

“You are very important,” Yoshimoto told her, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. “The world would be a worse place without your artistry.”

Kanetsugu was still watching the bunny on Mai’s lap, ignoring the conversation completely. 

Thankfully, it gave Mai an easy out of this embarrassing praise. “Kanetsugu, do you want to take the rabbit back? It’s ok if you do. Just seeing him made me feel a little better.”

“No. He wishes to be where he is.” Kanetsugu gave her a slight smile. “I am pleased if his presence brought you some comfort.”

“I hope my attention also gave you some comfort, angel.” Shingen’s smooth voice brought Mai’s gaze back to him. He was giving her a dazzling smile, and there was unexpected warmth in the depths of his eyes. 

Mai felt her pulse speed, reacting to that look and his nearness. “I . . . ah . . .”

Sasuke cleared his throat. “I think we should let her rest now.”

Yoshimoto glanced at him and then nodded. “Yes, of course. How selfish of me. I only wanted to ensure you were recovering. Please rest and feel better.” He brought her hand to his lips, and placed an ephemeral kiss to the back of it. The touch was light but warm, and it sent a pleasant shiver up her arm. 

“We’ll check on you later.” Shingen agreed. “In the meantime, don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“That leaves a distressing number of options,” Kanetsugu commented. He smiled, and Mai couldn’t help but note he had little fangs. Sharp canines that looked a bit longer than the surrounding teeth. “I will return for Ke- the bunny. You will take good care of him until then.”

“Yes?” Mai nodded, her fingers brushing the soft fur on the rabbit’s head.

“Good.” Kanetsugu nodded. “Until then.” 

Yoshimoto released her hand and stood to leave. The others followed him out, and Mai was left again in the quiet, cold hospital room. But she felt warmer now, inside and out. “Those guys are so strange,” she sighed. “But nice. Don’t you think so, Mr. Bunny?” She stroked his soft ears. 

The rabbit gazed at her, its pink nose wiggling. The dichroic eyes held an unexpected weight of affection and a look Mai thought was a little sad. She cradled the rabbit to her chest in a gentle hug. “It’s just me and you now. Waiting for Mitsuhide.”

Even with her demanding schedule and all the extra chores, Alice still heard rumors and gossip. The vegetable sellers at the market said Prince Ray was looking for a thief, and the dairy deliveryman said no, it was Sir Oswald hunting for a spy. The butcher told her actually, it was Sir Godspeed and he was seeking his lady love - a mysterious woman he spotted riding through town on a milk-white mare. 

Alice wondered if any of it had to do with her, but she dismissed the thought as silly. She wasn’t a thief or a spy and she hadn’t ridden any kind of horse through town. Maybe something had happened at the ball after she left, or in the days following. She didn’t know, and probably never would. 

That didn’t stop her from thinking about it as she moved around the dining room, preparing for dinner. Alice was lost in thought when . . .

Ray

A familiar dark gray cat darted through the open window. The kitty bounded over the table settings and flung itself under the hem of Alice’s apron. She bent down, a curious smile on her face. “Is that you, Ms. Belle?” 

Alice lifted her apron hem and took a peek at the pink satin ribbon around the cat’s neck. A small, gold tag dangled from it, with the name Belle written in lovely script. “It is you! Oh you silly little thing. This is a long way from the palace.” She scratched the kitty’s head.

“Hey.” 

She jumped, and Belle leapt up onto the chair at the sound of the voice. Her eyes went to the window, where Ray stood, a grin on his face. 

“Didn’t mean to surprise you.” He gestured to the room. “Is it alright if I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” Alice started to move toward the door, but Ray pulled himself in through the window. “Oh! Ok. W-welcome. Are you here for your cat?”

Ray laughed. “Well, she did run off. But actually . . .” He paused, his expression turning serious, “I was looking for you.”

“Me?” Alice startled all over again.

“Yeah. And you’re not exactly easy to find. You didn’t even give me your name, the night of the royal ball. So Belle and I have been looking around town for you for weeks. Trying to find the beautiful girl with a sweet smile.”

She felt her cheeks heat and her pulse began to race. “I’m . . . sorry?”

Ray took a step closer and reached for her hand. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the back of it. “I didn’t come to hear you apologize.” His lips grazed her skin as he spoke, his warm breath dancing over her knuckles. The touch sent a shiver through her that she did her best to hide. 

“I . . . then . . . what?” She stumbled over the words, too distracted by his touch to collect her thoughts. 

“I wanted to see you again.” His green eyes pierced her, his gaze felt as if he studied her soul. “Did you -” he paused and took a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Did you want to see me too?”

Alice nodded, a smile breaking across her face. “I do! I . . . I’ve been thinking about you every day since the ball! But you - you’re a prince and -” She gestured to the ragged clothes she wore, encompassing the whole of her position.

Ray pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That doesn’t matter. I’m just glad I found you.” He grinned. “So . . . what is your name? Because I can’t call my girlfriend ‘the mystery woman’.”

She laughed and hid her blushing cheeks against his shoulder. “I’m Alice.”

“Alice.” He said her name with relish, as if tasting it. Ray’s voice was soft, husky. “May I kiss you, Alice?”

“Y-yes. Yes. I’d like that.” Alice tilted her face to him, her eyes fluttering shut as his warm lips gently pressed against hers in a tender kiss. 

When they parted, he still kept his arms around her waist. “Would you come to live in the palace?”

Her eyes went wide with surprise. She wasn’t sure what to say. “But then . . . Druzilla and Anastasia . . . who would cook and clean for them? And Lady Tremaine would be so angry with me.” Alice swallowed, suddenly nervous. The fact was, Lady Tremaine would be furious about all of this.

Ray shrugged, nonchalant. “I bet they can hire someone. And actually pay them.” He frowned at her rags. “Because from here, it looks like you do the work of four and get the pay of none.”

It was true, but Alice didn’t want to speak ill of her stepmother, and so she said nothing.

“I thought so.” Ray poked her forehead. “Don’t put their happiness in front of your own. If you don’t want to live in the palace, say so. But if you do . . .”

“I do.” She took a trembling breath. “It’s just so hard to believe.”

“You better start believing it.” He grinned and lifted her into his arms. “Let’s go. Come on Belle!”

The cat trotted after them as Ray went back out the window with her cradled against his chest. Alice hardly believed it was real. Rescued by a real prince. He was so dashing and romantic that she felt like she was in a fairy tale. 

***

Sirius

A well appointed carriage rolled up the Tremaine estate and stopped by the entry. The royal crest was emblazoned on the side, and the driver wore palace livery. Alice saw it from the kitchen window and hurried to untie her apron and dry her hands. But Anastasia must have spotted it too, and got to the door before Alice could. Druzilla and the Lady herself were only a step behind, all excited as the estate rarely had visitors of note. 

Anastasia opened the door, a polite smile on her lips and a calculating look in her eyes. “May I ask who’s calling?” She batted her eyelashes at the tall figure on the stair.

Alice felt a start of surprise as she saw the visitor from over her step-sister’s shoulder. It was Sirius Oswald, dressed in his official uniform and wearing a solemn expression. 

“Sir Oswald, senior advisor to the king. I’m here on a matter of import to the court, regarding the late Lord Tremaine.”

Anastasia took a step back and welcomed him inside. Druzilla and Lady Tremaine curtsied. Alice tried to, but felt entirely unsteady as Sirius’ gaze fell on her. She couldn’t help but remember what it had felt like to be held by him, her hand in his, as they danced. His warmth and easy affection, and the kindness he’d shown her. 

She ducked her head as he passed, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her in her filthy rags - and half hoping he would because . . . Alice refused to finish that thought. Girlish silliness. No, he was here on business and that was all. 

Lady Tremaine escorted him to the parlor, inquiring politely on his health and family. She bid Druzilla and Anastasia to accompany them and sent Alice for refreshments. 

Sirius did not seem interested in conversation, though he gave polite enough replies. When Alice came back with tea and pastries, he was fending off a too-friendly Druzilla.

She poured the tea and set out the milk and sugar. Just as she turned to go, Sirius’ hand shot out and took hold of her arm.

“You need to be here for this too. After all, you’re the Lord Tremaine’s only child.” He met her trembling gaze with gentle warmth, the violet of his eyes as soft as flower petals. 

“Umm. Alright.” Alice spared a look at Lady Tremaine. Her step-mother was near to quivering with rage. But she couldn’t defy the royal advisor, so she sat as far from the little group as she could, on a stool by the window. 

Sirius gave her a small smile before turning to look at Lady Tremaine. “The Tremaine estate came up in a review of property and inheritance tax. It appears nothing was paid after the Lord’s death and his accounts are being spent out at a high rate. This is concerning to the crown.”

“I - well, I am only a poor widow. I didn’t know there was something we needed to pay to the crown. After my beloved husband passed and left all he owned to me and his daughters -” Lady Tremaine tried to put a mournful expression on her face but it sat awkwardly there.

“He had only one beneficiary, Lady Tremaine.” Sirius interrupted, his voice firm and unyielding as stone. “And it was not you nor your daughters. He left everything to his only natural child, but each time the bank sent a trust letter to her, nothing was ever returned.”

Alice stared, not quite understanding. The Lady told her that her father left nothing for any of them. That the estate and all expenses were being paid from her own pocket, the money left from her family before she married. 

Lady Tremaine frowned, the false sorrow falling from her face like a discarded veil. “I do not know what nonsense you think you have discovered, but I can tell you my husband wouldn’t have dared -”

Sirius interrupted her again, pulling a letter from his pocket. It also bore the royal seal. “Per the dictum of the court and his majesty the prince, you are hereby evicted from this property. Your access to the accounts and incomes of the Tremaine estate are void. You will leave within the hour, or face arrest and imprisonment for theft.” He frowned. “The guards are here to see this royal decree is obeyed in full.”

As he finished, several uniformed men entered the room. 

Druzilla and Anastasia looked as shocked as Alice felt. They turned pleading eyes to her. Lady Tremaine, on the other hand, merely looked furious. She stood, gripping her skirt. “This will not stand! I have friends - family! With influence. You cannot come into my home and -”

“It is not your home.” Sirius gestured, and the uniformed men escorted them out.

Alice watched, still caught in a sense of complete disbelief. 

Sirius stood and crossed the space between them, crouching in front of her stool. “Are you alright, little lady? This must be quite a shock.”

“I - yes. I don’t know. Is all of that true?” She blinked at him, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“It is. Your step-mother tried to steal your inheritance.” He took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “When you ran from the ball, I tried to find you. I had to know who you were. And when I did learn your name, who you are . . .” Sirius sighed. “I found out all the rest too. I couldn’t let this happen to anyone, but especially not you.”

“Especially?” Alice felt a heat creep into her cheeks at the way he said that part. 

Sirius held her gaze, his eyes full of an unexpected affection. “Especially. I know we only just met, but I felt a connection to you. I can tell you have a kind soul. And . . . I wanted to see you again. Ever since I ran into you at the market, actually.”

Alice grinned. “I guess that was a lucky accident for me.”

“More so for me, I think. And then I got to dance with you at the ball.” He kissed her fingertip, his lips only barely brushing her skin. It was enough to send a wave of warmth rushing through her. “When things are settled,” Sirius paused as if unsure whether to say more.

“Yes?”

“I would like to see more of you. A date, if you are willing?”

Alice felt her heart fill to bursting. “I would love to.”

Sirius chuckled, a genuine smile lifting the corners of his lips. “You sound so sure. I’m glad.” He pressed another barely-there kiss to her fingertips.

Alice leaned forward, intending to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned at just the wrong - or perhaps right - moment. Her lips met his for just a breath. A pulse-racing, electric heartbeat, when the satin touch of his mouth touched hers and she felt every nerve in her body light up like fireworks under her skin so that when he pulled back in surprise, it left her aching for more. “I-I’m sure,” she breathed.

***

Luka

There was a knock at the servant’s entrance. Alice quickly dried her hands on her apron and hurried over to open the door. Luka stood there on the step. He was dressed in a suit like the one he’d worn to the ball, and held a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. His ears peeked redly from beneath his hair and his cheeks were stained as well.

“Luka!” Alice felt so glad to see him that she wanted to hug him. But hugs always made him shy around her, so she restrained herself and just took his hand. She pulled him inside and shut the door. “I haven’t seen you since the ball!”

She couldn’t help but remember how different he’d been that night. The way he’d touched her when they danced, the look in his eyes. Alice glanced away, suddenly feeling awkward herself. 

He nodded. “I tried to come by. But you weren’t home. Or your step-sisters said you were busy.” His voice was very soft, almost hard to hear, and he was gripping the bouquet like it might try to run away.

“Lady Tremaine gave me more chores. I didn’t tell her I went to the ball, but I think she suspects. So . . . I really haven’t been around.” She gestured to the mess on the counter. “I’m supposed to be cooking now.”

Luka took a breath and thrust the flowers toward her. “These are for you.”

Alice took them, her fingers briefly touching his as he passed the bouquet to her. He snatched his hand back as if singed. “Th-thanks.” She wasn’t sure how to react or what she should do. Her feelings were a tangle in her chest, of friendship and something more, and so she just stood there holding them and looking at him.

“Do you . . .” Luka started to ask a question, but his voice trailed into silence. He fixed his stare on the flowers in her hand and tried again. “Do you like me?”

“I - of course?” Alice wanted to put into words the way she’d felt for years as his neighbor, her respect for how hard he worked. Her appreciation for the little moments of kindness he’d showed her. And now the magic they’d shared at the royal ball. Seeing him as something more than a friend. It made her nervous and excited, her heartbeat was racing and her tummy was doing flips. 

He frowned, searching her expression. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him, because he continued. “You - you looked really . . . pretty. At the ball. But - you, you always look pretty.”

Alice felt her face get hot. “You did too. I mean, you looked really nice. You look nice now.”

“I . . .” Luka trailed off again, staring down now at his empty hands.

Alice turned and set the flowers down, intending to find a vase for them. She thought it would give him some privacy to collect himself. And her as well. Her chest felt tight and hot and tense, waiting to hear what he would say. She nearly jumped in surprise as she felt his arms wrap around her from behind, his chin resting gently on her shoulder. 

“I thought you would meet a noble and fall in love. And I would lose you.” He murmured, barely audible even at this close distance. “That’s why I followed you to the royal ball.” Luka took a trembling breath. “I love you, Alice. I was afraid to tell you.”

Alice felt her heart stutter in her chest. It thudded against her ribcage in a wild, galloping beat that matched the chaos of her emotions. “You . . . love me?” She turned in his arms, her back pressed to the counter. 

Luka nodded, too emotional to say more. 

The words warmed through her like the sun on a chill morning. She wrapped her arms around him to hug him back. “I - I love you too.”

He squeezed her tightly, his face buried in her shoulder. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship . . . but I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“It’s ok,” Alice laughed warmly. “I just - I didn’t know. I thought you just saw me as a friend. I liked you so much . . . I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Luka laughed too, looking up at her. His eyes were full of sweet adoration. “Will you come stay with me, then, Alice?”

She felt her eyes sting with happy tears. “Yes.” 

He smiled, then shyly leaned forward and brushed the most chaste kiss to her lips, petal soft and warm and as sweet as honey. Then he pulled back, as if embarrassed. But Alice pulled him close for a second kiss and he didn’t seem to mind that at all. 

***

Fenrir 

The front door burst open. Alice hurried toward it, wondering what could be happening. When she got there, Fenrir stood with his hands on his hips while a few of his knights led her step-mother and step-sisters out. 

“What - Sir Godspeed - what are you doing?” Alice came to a stumbling halt right in front of him, a question on her lips.

He laughed and ruffled her hair. “Prince Ray and me found out Lady Tremaine and her daughters stole your inheritance. So she’s under arrest.”

She blinked, trying to process this piece of information. “My . . . inheritance? But . . . I don’t understand.”

Fenrir wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently guided her outside to one of the garden benches. “After the ball, I went looking for you. You don’t make it easy on a guy!” He grinned at her blush. “But when I found you, all sorts of questions started poppin’ up.”

“Oh.”  Alice looked around the garden, at the profusion of flowers and the tiny butterflies that flitted from one end to the other. He’d looked for her, she thought, and it made something in her chest tighten. “But . . . why did you come looking for me?”

At this, Fenrir laughed. “I thought I told you when we were dancing! You’re a great partner. And I want to dance with you again.”  

His laugh tickled the hairs at the nape of her neck, and his joy was infectious. Still, something tugged at Alice’s heart. Just to dance with, she thought. Someone fun to see at parties. Surely there was more. She turned her head to study him, unsure how to voice this or if she even should say anything more. Afterall, they barely knew each other and yet . . . she felt a connection to him.

It was Fenrir she’d dreamed of these past few weeks. His eyes that held her own with such warmth. His playfulness. His strength. But she couldn’t assume he felt the same. 

“Hey! What’s that look for?” He tapped her nose gently. 

“N-nothing!” Alice felt her face go even hotter. “I’m fine being just your dance partner. When there’s a party. Or, you know, if you just want to go dance.”

Fenrir chuckled, and this time his laugh was low and a little breathy. “Who said I only want to dance with you, Alice?” His face was close to hers and those petal-pink eyes held a heat in them both tender and fierce. 

“Y-you . . .” Alice cleared her throat, but that did nothing to ease the tightness. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, the sound of her pulse loud in her ears. Fenrir’s arm was still draped over her shoulder and every place his skin touched hers was electric. 

“I like you.” He was blushing now too, but he didn’t look away. His gaze was mesmerizing to Alice, and she felt pulled toward him. Fenrir leaned closer to her, his lips almost touching hers. “May I kiss you?”

She tried to say yes but the word tangled on her tongue and all that came out was a short, sharp breath. 

Fenrir understood though, a slow, heated smile turning his lips up at the edges just before he touched them to hers. His kiss was ferocious, full of a passion like a bonfire, devouring her with warmth and light. He pulled back after a moment, his breath trembling in the air between them. “I wanted to do that for weeks.” His look told her he wanted even more. 

Alice kissed him again, savoring the feel of his body pressed close to hers. There was nothing in the world as sweet as this, she thought. 

When he pulled back the second time, there was something desperate in his expression. A hunger at odds with his gentlemanly dress and manners. “I . . . gotta stand up now. Come on, partner.” He stood and held his hand out to her. 

“W-where are we going?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I want to have adventures with you, Alice. Will you stay by my side?”

There was only one answer to that. Alice took his hand. “Everywhere sounds good, as long as I’m with you.”

***

Seth

She let out a sigh. “I wish -”

“To see me again? Wish granted.” The now-familiar voice came from just behind her. 

Alice turned to see her fairy godfather standing there, an insouciant smile on his face. “Seth! You startled me. Again!”

“You look cute when you’re surprised.” 

She blushed at the compliment and looked away, trying to hide it. He had this way of looking at her that made her feel terribly self conscious. Alice cleared her throat. “Ok, but that doesn’t explain why you’re here. There’s no ball today. Just chores.”

Seth laughed, closing the distance between them without taking a step. “You were about to make a wish. And wishes summon fairies.” He tilted her chin up with a fingertip, forcing her to meet his playful, heated gaze. “So tell me, lovely Alice, what is it you wish for?”

“I . . .” Her throat closed tight around the words, unable to speak them because they would admit so much. And her dream felt impossible. 

He gently brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, fingers trailing along the side of her face. His touch was gentle and full of an unspoken affection as he waited for her to get up the courage to speak.

“I wish I was somewhere else, anywhere but here. I want to be happy. I want to feel loved, like I matter . . .” Alice trailed off after the brief outburst, feeling she’d said too much already. 

Seth’s smile was gentle. “Done.” And just like that, they were somewhere else. Alice saw a bustling street below, with market stalls and shops. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she looked around the room. It was a well appointed parlor, nothing as fancy as the Tremaine manor but very nice. There were flowers on the table in impossible colors, and the lamps were glittering magic crystals. 

“I’m afraid happiness is up to you. But I can promise you are loved. And you do matter.” His brown-eyed gaze was warm and intimate, his voice a breathy sigh. He took her hand and clasped it tightly.

Alice leaned into his comforting touch, his words soothing a hurt in her that she hadn’t realized was there. “Seth . . .”

He giggled and spun her around, breaking the moment before Alice could process what he’d said. “So, as your fairy godfather, I am giving you this lovely flat in Central. There’s a teahouse and a pâtissière downstairs, and across the street you’ll find a market with everything else a girl could want.” 

“That sounds nice?”

“Enough to bring a smile to your beautiful face?” Seth’s grin widened and he pulled her into an unexpected embrace. “And if there is something you want, you can just wish for it. Anything.” His words were playful, tickling against her neck. 

Alice slipped her arms around him, and Seth went very still. “What if what I want is . . . you?”

“Then you are a very silly girl.” His voice shook as he said it, and she could not see what expression he made as he hid his face in her hair. “Fairy Godfathers aren’t allowed to fall in love with mortals.”

Alice turned her face to kiss his cheek, putting all the affection she held for him into this one, gentle touch. “I want to know you, Seth. The man holding me right now, not the fairy godfather.”

He shivered, a sigh escaping his lips at her touch. “You might not like him . . .”

“I think I already do,” she countered. “He is kind and funny. And he makes me smile. Seeing him . . . makes me happy.” Alice laid her head against his shoulder, where she could hear the fierce pounding of his heart. “I’d rather have just Seth, than a fairy godfather.”

“Even if just Seth can’t magic you up a fancy gown and carriage?”

Alice laughed softly. “A friend is way more important than those things.”

Seth let out a breath, the tension leaking from him. “I hope I’m more than just a friend.” His hand brushed the nape of her neck, a teasing gentle touch that sent little waves of warmth through her. 

“We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” Alice pulled back from him so that she could see his face.

“What are you smiling about?” Mitsuhide’s sharp gold gaze landed on him as he brought in the night’s reports. 

“Am I smiling?” Kyubei drew his mouth into a firm line. 

Akechi’s own mouth spread in a grin. “You were.”

“Then perhaps I am learning from you.” Kyubei did his best to imitate the razor sharp smile his lord was known for. And then, before more questions could come, he set his bundle down on Mitsuhide’s desk. “There are two missives from Kasugayama, one from Kyoto, and a full report from one of our eyes in the south.”

News would draw away the too-perceptive eye of his lord. And it did. Mitsuhide opened the bundle, long slim fingers graceful as they plucked the important papers from the rest that could be read later. 

Kyubei did not wait to be dismissed. He was already backing out with a bow when Mitsuhide glanced up. “Stay. I may have need of you yet.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied. Because what other reply could he give? Kyubei settled in, watching Akechi read through the urgent reports. He already knew what was in them, and had a fair idea of what his lord would request done. Another agent sent south, some letters and payments to certain merchants that traveled through Kasugayama, and for Kyoto . . . 

His musings cut short as the door opened. The chatelaine stepped in with a tray of tea and some food. “I know you don’t break for lunch but I thought -” she paused as she noticed Kyubei standing there. “Oh! Hello!” 

“Princess.” Kyubei bowed, hoping the movement would hide his face long enough to subdue the sudden rush of heat in his cheeks. 

The chatelaine smiled at him shyly and tucked her hair over her ear. The tray wobbled in her remaining hand and he darted forward to take it from her. “Thank you. It would be just like me to make a mess when I’m trying to be helpful. I’m so clumsy.”

“You are as graceful as a deer, princess. Next time, ask me. I am pleased to help.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful. 

“Ahaha, no - omg - no. No one has ever said I am like a deer.” She wasn’t laughing at him or his words, but at herself and it made Kyubei’s heart feel full to bursting to share this moment with her. 

Kyubei returned her smile with one of his own. “Then I am lucky to be the first. Though I am surely not to be the last to notice your beauty.”

And then Mitsuhide cleared his throat, reminding them both that he was there and an unwilling audience to this awkward, inappropriate moment. 

In just a heartbeat, Kyubei came crashing back to reality. To the world in which he was a vassal, a man that should not even look above the feet of an Oda princess. The warm glow of his secret fluttered in his chest, buffeted by the cold truth. He turned from her and set the tray on his lord’s desk without another word.

“S-sorry to distract you two,” the chatelaine told them. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something today. Besides whatever crumbs are in your pockets.” 

Mitsuhide gave a wry laugh. “I promise you, I eat when I am hungry. I do not need you to look after me. You or that meddlesome dragon.”

The chatelaine blinked in surprise. “I didn’t say anything about Masamune!”

“You didn’t have to. This has his mark all over it.” Mitsuhide sighed. “I suppose now that you’ve brought it, I must appreciate the effort appropriately. But you will stay and enjoy it with me.”

Kyubei saw his exit and gladly took it. “Then I will leave you both to -”

“No. Kyubei, why don’t you stay? Have a cup of tea.” Mitsuhide’s smile was relentless. 

“As you command.” He poured three cups of tea, tense and reluctant but determined not to give anything else away.

The chatelaine watched him with interest. “You’re so good at that. The perfect pour. Have you practiced?”

“Yes, have you?” Mitsuhide’s grin grew wider.

Kyubei swallowed. “Yes? I am always seeking to improve my service to the Akechi.” 

She laid a hand on his arm and the light touch sent heat coursing through him. “Maybe one of these days we can hang out and you can show me your technique.”

Which was exactly the sort of offer Kyubei dreamt of. Time alone with just the chatelaine. Spending time with her, listening to her. But he couldn’t say yes because he was only a vassal and she -

“I’d be happy to lend Kyubei to you for whatever you like. In fact, he’s an excellent instructor for many subjects.” Mitsuhide gave a nod. “You could start this evening.”

“I must - what?” His polite refusal halted as his lord’s words sunk in. 

The chatelaine clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s great! But . . . only if he wants to. You can’t loan him out like a bike, Mitsuhide!” She turned the full force of her gaze on Kyubei. “So, would you be willing?”

And of course, he couldn’t say no to her. Not when she looked at him like that. “I would be glad to,” he replied, which was the simple truth. 

Mitsuhide picked up his tea and took a sip. “Then that is settled.” 

The break felt to Kyubei like a fever dream. Each time a subject came up, Mitsuhide would look at him and say, “Kyubei can tell you more about that.” Or, “Kyubei is an expert in -” Or even, “What are your thoughts, Kyubei?” 

And the chatelaine’s eyes were on him and he felt as if his whole body might catch on fire. He fought the heat down from his cheeks but feared his expression made his feelings too clear.

When they finished with the tea and snacks, the chatelaine stood up and picked up the tray. “Sorry again for interrupting. But I hope you enjoyed the food.”

“Certainly. And the company as well.” Mitsuhide grinned. “Feel free to stop in whenever you like, little mouse.”

“Yes, thank you for coming by,” Kyubei bowed low, reminding himself again that she was a princess and he was a vassal and this was a favor to his lord. Not to him. Not for him. Not about him. 

His secret flickered, wavering, but held steady. It was alright, he told himself, to hold this one-sided love. So long as she never found out. When he straightened, his expression was appropriate. Only polite. Nothing more.

The chatelaine grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I am glad you were here when I did! I’ll see you later. Tonight.” She smiled. “It will be fun.”

And he couldn’t help but smile back, genuinely looking forward to it. “I am looking forward to it.”

She let him go and left, and when she was gone the office felt so much emptier. Kyubei took a deep, slow, steadying breath before turning back to work. 

Mitsuhide studied his expression and then sighed. “You will have to work on that.”

“On what?”

“Hmm. On what indeed.” He picked up one of the reports he’d been reviewing before they were interrupted. His eyes returned to the text. Kyubei thought he was in the clear until a few minutes later when he spoke up again. 

“She’s quite pretty. Not a court beauty, of course. But pretty.” Those piercing gold eyes found him again. 

Kyubei chose to play dumb. “Who are we speaking of?”

Mitsuhide’s knowing smile was his answer. Then, a few minutes later, “She isn’t a princess either.”

“The Oda adopted her.” Kyubei’s back tightened as he realized his lord was not going to let this drop. He buried his secret further down, hiding it under the proper words. 

Mitsuhide nodded and his gaze returned to the page as if that was the only point he needed to make. But this time, Kyubei didn’t relax. He knew what his lord was like on the hunt. And he was surely hunting now. 

“There is more than one tale in which a commoner marries a princess.” Mitsuhide didn’t look up this time, and Kyubei was glad for that because he wasn’t sure what face he made right then. “And those were women born into it. She barely knows what her title means.” 

He took a moment before replying, calming the part of his heart that leapt in response to that idea. “Perhaps. But most of those tales end in tragedy, too.”

Mitsuhide scoffed. “Because they were ill-considered.” He did look up then, and there was something in his gaze besides the usual calculation. An unexpected kindness. “I know you are many things, Kyubei. My most trusted assistant. My friend. But you are never careless.” He smiled and it was a gentler expression than his cutting crescent moon grin. “Should you - and I am not saying you are - but should you ever find yourself in love with any kind of princess, take hold of that happiness while you can.”

Kyubei nodded. He understood the fragile hope he was being handed. The gift, given with intent. “I will take that under consideration, my lord.”

“Good.” Mitsuhide’s eyes sparked with mischief. “And when you do, please do me a great favor. Moon after her out of my sight? I think your passionate gazes left syrup on my reports.”

“At your command,” Kyubei chuckled. “But surely it wasn’t that obvious.”

“I could have scraped sugar from the walls, watching the two of you dance around each other. She was about to crawl into your lap.”

“No. She was not! And I was holding back! Trying to be appropriate!” Kyubei protested.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “If that was your best attempt to pretend not to like a girl, I’m going to have to reconsider sending you out to spy for me.”

The chatelaine surveyed the desolation with a stricken look. She’d never seen the aftermath of a crushed uprising. “Mitsuhide,” she said his name after a moment, and he turned his head to look up at her where she still sat her mount. “I thought you said we won this one.”

“We did. The Oda forces were victorious. This is one of three villages overrun by the battle between our soldiers and the daimyo’s rebels.” 

She took a breath and then nodded. Her expression went from one of shock and horror to a determined frown. “I see.” Then, “We have a lot of work to do.”

Mitsuhide helped her dismount and together, they walked through the center street. Most of the villagers fled when the army approached and only a few returned. They watched with sullen gazes, still afraid of further violence.  Still angry at what they’d suffered.

The chatelaine didn’t seem to notice the hurt and anger. Or rather, she chose not to as she pushed her sleeves up and approached a small group of bent-backed farmers. “Hi there!”

They didn’t respond at first, but when she walked past them to start cleaning up the rubble, the farmers went to help with mumbled hellos and thank yous. What began as an uncertain and awkward team turned efficient after a little while. The villagers began to tell her their stories, to point to where they used to live, and share what they wanted and needed.

Mitsuhide stayed out of it. He had to. He was the wicked kitsune, the bloody left hand of the Oda. Capable of any violence, any outrage. It did not matter that he dirtied his hands with ash and mud doing the same cleanup. Or that he ordered his soldiers to help. People would never trust him with their hopes and sorrows. 

This was her strength, and he envied her for it. And loved her because of it. She caught him watching and flashed Mitsuhide a shy smile. Her face was smeared with ash and her clothes were filthy from mud but she’d never looked more beautiful. When he smiled back, her cheeks flushed and she quickly went back to work. 

They called a halt at sundown, unable to safely work in the dark. There were two homes rebuilt and another two cleared and repaired enough to sleep in. The villagers offered them one, and Mitsuhide accepted. His men set up tents nearby and settled in to camp for the night.

The Oda forced shared out food and cookfires, and soon the survivors of the battle soldier and villager alike, were celebrating. Wine and harder liquors lubricated the day’s new friendships. Someone began singing and soon, most of the camp joined in. All but Mitsuhide and the chatelaine, who watched from the front step of the little house. 

“I didn’t expect to see a celebration tonight,” she told him. She leaned her head against his shoulder, tired from the hard work and the journey before it. “I thought they would be too sad. And exhausted!” 

Mitsuhide kissed the top of her head. “You underestimate the sheer joy of still being alive. Even knowing what was lost, they cannot help but celebrate.” He paused, his gaze narrowed. “There will be more tears later. Grief as life continues on past the loss of loved ones. But tonight, there is only relief that they have a chance to begin again.”

She nodded understanding. Her cold hand sought the warmth of his grasp, and she burrowed closer to his side. 

He put an arm around her, understanding what she sought without words. Reassurance. Stability. The certainty of his presence and love. Mitsuhide pulled her tight against his side. Even in victory, it was easy to see how fragile these moments were. How delicate the construct of love, the framework of a life. 

“Let’s go to bed, little one,” he said softly, layering his meaning. 

She looked up at him, surprised. “You can’t be serious. I’m filthy! And you are too!”

Mitsuhide grinned. “Why wouldn’t I be? A little dirt never hurt anyone. And I have reason to celebrate.” He caressed her side, sliding his hand down to her thigh. “My lover is by my side, and I am alive to appreciate her.”

“But the soldiers - and, and the villagers. What if someone hears us?” Her entire face was hot now, and she looked away, unable to meet his bright gaze.

“What if they do? They might know I love you?” He kissed the top of her ear. 

“Mitsuhide!”

He laughed at the quaver in her voice, such a heady mix of excitement and embarrassment all at once. It was why she was still so very much fun to tease. Mitsuhide nipped her earlobe and whispered. “What if I promise to smother your moans with my lips and swallow every sound you make as I remind you how very much I adore you?”

“You -” She cleared her throat. “You can’t really do that.”

“Ah. Now you’ve challenged me, little mouse.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. 

Her eyes were wide and bright in the silvered star light. “You’re kidding, right?” The words were half-hopeful and equally worried he would agree this was all a joke.

Mitsuhide kissed her then, a passionate tangling of lips and tongue, fingers tangling in her hair. She tasted of sweat and smoke and that certain flavor that was just and only her and if he had been teasing before, he wasn’t now. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her and feel her pleasure and his in that sweet twining of limbs and flesh and heart and soul that said ‘I am alive and in love and my lover is with me!’ 

There wasn’t enough breeze to even stir his hair, but just being out here made him feel a little better. His thoughts spun through the events of the day, the concerns of his growing empire, and finally, with some anticipation, landed on the chatelaine. She’d been avoiding him of late. He knew it. Afraid of what another game of go might cause her to yield. 

He smiled, thinking of her saucy responses to him. When she forgot to be nervous, she was deeply amusing. And more. There was something about his lucky charm that made him feel peaceful. That was what he wanted right now. 

Nobunaga sent a servant scurrying to fetch her. 

She came up the stairs with a reluctant gait. He could almost hear the resistance to his summons in every step. And the first words out of her mouth as she entered his room were defiant. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No. Do you?” He glanced at her over his shoulder. She stood in the dimlit room, as distant as she could get from his balcony perch. 

“Well . . . not exactly, no. But it’s really late. Or early. Anyway, that’s not the point! I was sleeping and you sent someone to wake me up! They had me dress in a hurry and run up here and - and there’s not even an emergency.” She ran her fingers through her hair, suddenly all nerves again, the anger bleeding out of her. 

Nobunaga felt an uncharacteristic guilt over waking her like that. She must have been worried to get such a vague, urgent message. But he shunted that emotion away and gave no sign of it in his expression. “Come here.”

She took a few steps in his direction, then paused. “You aren’t planning to play go, are you? Because I’m way too tired for that.”

“No. No games tonight.” He looked back out over the town, listening to her slow steps. 

The chatelaine stopped at the railing, more than an armslength away. “Well, good.” Then her head snapped up at some sudden thought. “I hope you aren’t under the impression I’m going to warm your bed either. I thought we were clear on that.”

“Warm my bed?” Nobunaga chuckled. “On a night like this, I think it is quite hot enough.” 

“Then . . . what do you want?”

Just you, he thought, his carnelian eyes turning toward her. He took in her lovely profile, the wisps of loose hair that clung to her neck and stuck to her cheek. “Sit.”

Her jaw clenched. “I am not some pet you can order around, mister warlord.”

He grinned. Ah that fire of hers. “Fireball, sit. Please.”

She seemed to debate whether or not the courtesy was enough. Apparently the yes vote won out as she sat down and leaned her back against the railing. “There’s a little bit of a breeze up here at least. I think it’s cooler than my room.”

“Is it?” He turned toward her. She was wearing a hastily tied kimono, thin enough that it was almost opaque had there been any light to shine through it. Her bare legs stuck out the bottom, showing his conquered territory up to her silken thigh. But he didn’t feel lust for her tonight - or not much - just a satisfaction that she was here.

The chatelaine nodded. 

Nobunaga lowered himself to the floor near her.

“Umm. What are you doing?” She eyed him the way she might a strange dog, one that was equally likely to bite as to wag his tail.

He grinned. “Just be still. I am not conquering new territory tonight. And then he laid down, settling his head on those lovely thighs. “You will be my pillow.”

The chatelaine shifted a bit under him, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “I don’t think I like this. Wouldn’t you rather have a real pillow? I can get one for you.”

“No. Now be quiet.” He shut his eyes and let himself relax into her presence. Her soft skin, the slight sweet floral scent of her perfume, and the sound of her breath and heart beat eased his tension. “Talk to me,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Tell me about your work. Your day. Anything you like.” He kept his eyes closed, cheek pressed to her leg. It was comfortable there, despite the heat. Perhaps it was just the softness of her. The gentleness that she carried with her everywhere she went.

The chatelaine sighed and after a moment, began to talk. She told him about her day. The work she did, the things she saw, people she met. There was so much joy in it. He fell still, his restlessness retreating. And with his stillness, she too let go of her worry. 

Nobunaga felt himself drifting into an empty, peaceful darkness. A place where his ambitions did not reach. A place where his burdens did not exist. 

She blushed and looked away from him, as shy now as the first time he’d kissed her. “Dinner is good,” she said, trying to mask with some small talk.

He grinned. “What’s the matter, kitten? Your cheeks are red.”

“Nothing!” She took another bite.

“Lass . . .” Masamune’s voice held a note of playful warning. 

“You know what.” She tried for a stern look, but only managed to look adorably flustered.

He took her free hand and lightly played his fingers over her palm. A teasing, tickling touch. His one eye brow rose.

She sighed. “You are impossible. Sitting there looking like you want to eat me up instead of dinner . . . and then teasing me when I blush!”

“Hm. I hadn’t considered eating you instead of dinner. More like a dessert. It’s an idea though. Sweets first?” He lifted her hand to his lips and nipped her fingertips.

“Masamune!” She laughed and squealed at the attention. 

He loved the way she laughed, her silly pretend struggling as he teased her. She was all of his favorite things. “You can’t object to your own suggestion, lass.”

“It wasn’t a - a suggestion!” Her giggles ruined any pretense of outrage. “I’m trying to eat dinner, you know?”

“Dinner can wait.” His blue eye burned with a hunger for other things, and he knew she knew it. 

Her expression shifted to understanding that he wasn’t just teasing now. “Oh. Well. Yes. It will still be here in an hour.”

“An hour? You wound me, kitten.” He grinned and stood. “An hour’s barely long enough to get a taste. I want time to enjoy the every dish.”

“There’s more than one dish?”

Masamune helped her up. “Oh yeah. There’s . . . at least five. Six.” He pretended to count, his fingers trailing over her neck, her breasts, hips, and every other part he could reach. 

She laughed breathlessly. “You are ridiculous. You can’t tell me my arm tastes different than my shoulder.”

“I guess I’ll have to sample each bit and give you a review.” He picked her up and kissed her, a slow, heated melding of their lips and tongues. As he drew away for a breath, he said, “A complex blend of sake and innate sweetness. Definitely more a dessert dish than a starter.”

Her eyes widened and she slapped his arm. “Hey!” 

Masamune caught her hand and suckled her wrist just below the palm, letting his teeth draw lightly over her skin. “Mmmm now here is a rich flavor. Notes of salt, a slight bitter floral aftertaste. Beneath that . . . essence of beautiful woman.”

“Essence of - seriously? Now you’re really just teasing.” 

“Kitten, I have not begun to tease. You still have your clothes on, afterall.” His smile was wide and full of wicked promise. “And I am completely serious about you. I love the way you taste. The way you smell. The way you feel.” He squeezed her gently. “Everything about you makes me love you more.”