#umeka

Who was he? Just Ieyasu Tokugawa, with hair that never fell flat and too many insecurities to be kind. He knew his place. It wasn’t between the two of them. (And honestly, that wasn’t how relationships worked--right? There weren’t three, it was always two. Anything else was too complicated.)

He went to the coffee meetings regardless. Every day they all met, and his heart felt a little softer around the both of them.

And then one day she didn't show up.

“Do you think she got hung up with something?” Mitsunari asked, nursing a lukewarm coffee he’d only just started on out of politeness.

“Must’ve.” Ieyasu checked his cellphone for the thousandth time. It wasn’t like her to not contact them. “We have court in an hour and a half. Maybe she had an appointment, too.”

“Maybe,” Mitsunari repeated. “I’ve a bad feeling.”

For a split second, Ieyasu noted both that Mitsunari was the only person who said ‘I’ve a bad feeling’, and that he also had a sinking pit in his stomach. But he shook it off, tucking his phone away. “Nothing for it now. Let’s go.”

---

It was fifteen minutes before they had to leave for court when someone knocked on the office door. Umeka answered, the brief flash of shock in her dark eyes disappearing as she turned. “Uh, Mr. Tokugawa?”

He was midway through adjusting one of Mitsunari’s haphazard note piles. “Yeah?”

“Mr. Takeda is here to see you.”

Shingen? Ieyasu halted in his tracks and stared across his desk at Mitsunari. The other man seemed just as surprised. Shingen Takeda’s dislike of the whole prosecutor’s office was nigh legendary. That he would stop by was almost unheard of. “Sure. Have him come in.”

Umeka backed up and waved him forward. The tall redhead nodded and winked at her, breezing inside as if he owned the place. “I’ll be quick. Have you two heard from Ms. Williams today?”

“What makes you think we would?” Ieyasu answered, stiffer than he meant. “Is there a reason a PI is looking for her?”

“Unfortunately.” Shingen delved into his pockets and produced a small ledger. “She has a death threat out on her. We’re trying to find her.”

Silence. Every second stretched on like infinity. Ieyasu could hear his blood rushing through his ears.

“No,” he managed at last. “She was--she was supposed to--”

“We usually all meet up for coffee around eleven,” Mitsunari managed what Ieyasu couldn’t, providing a tangible detail. Ieyasu stared at the papers in his hands, all the words running together. “She didn't show or text.”

“Mmm.” If Shingen had something to say, he mercifully bottled it down. “That’s not good. Nothing else?”

“No. Nothing.”

Ieyasu leafed through the court documents one at a time, slowly arranging them. Mitsunari and Shingen’s conversation blurred into white noise. Where could she be? She had to be fine. She had to be.

And then Mitsunari touched his shoulder, gentle as a feather.

“Ieyasu?” He murmured. “I--are you okay?”

“Worried,” Ieyasu admitted. “Not that we can do anything about it. There’s--there’s court in thirty…”

Except there was something. He knew it as soon as he looked up into Mitsunari’s amethyst eyes. There were two of them. Only one of them had to go to court…

“Do you…” Mitsunari started, then stopped. “Is it possible…?”

“Go.” Ieyasu choked out the words. “Just give me the documents and go. I can carry it. You’ve done all the paperwork, so I can just read up before we’re called. It’ll be fine. The judge is only expecting me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Maybe--maybe she’s on the L train somewhere. She told us her stop when she was drunk, right?”

Mitsunari’s eyes flashed resolutely. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Great. I’ve got it.” Ieyasu stuffed the papers into his briefcase. “Go.”

He didn't have to say it again. Mitsunari swung on his thick grey designer coat and flew out the door.

---

Usually, he was calm in court. Judges didn't scare him. Where once the oppressive atmosphere sank like a rock in his stomach, it was now as mundane as a grocery store.

Except for today.

He didn't monitor his phone. It vibrated against his thigh a few times, but he didn't have opportunity to check it. God only knew what messages waited him! We found her--it’s too late… I can’t locate her anywhere… we received another threat… Ieyasu wanted to punch a wall. Or, at the very least, slam his hands down on the table he was trapped behind, waiting for a recess.

His only solace was more than he expected. Mitsunari was a genius. No one else in the whole world was more trustworthy than him. Forget Shingen Takeda and the investigators--Ieyasu put his faith in Mitsunari Ishida.

Finally they called for a recess.

Ieyasu almost sprinted out the door. The phone was in his fist the second he exited. Emails, notifications… a text from Mitsunari. He tried not to swallow his heart as he pulled it up.

I found her. Phone got snatched and the L train was down.

“Of course,” he snarled to no one, too elated and relieved to sound nicer, “Of course the fucking L train was down.”

A second text: we’re at the office.

“What?” Ieyasu snapped, punching the dial button. It only rang twice before Mitsunari picked up.

“Hello?”

“There’s a death threat out on her, and you’re still in public?” No greeting was necessary. “Are you serious?”

“There’s security to get through to get in here, I only thought--”

“No.” Ieyasu fumbled through his mind before settling on a solution. “Take her to my apartment. My spare key is in the drawer. Umeka has the master key. You know where I live, right?”

“Text me the address. I’ll make it happen.”

“Great. And--” He paused briefly. “Tell--tell Williams I said hi.”

A shuffle. “He says hello!”

“Hi!” Came her voice in the background, a small chime of her laughter music to his ears. Ieyasu let out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding.

“Yeah. Great. Get her there.” And then he hung up, too embarrassed to properly end their conversation.

---

He didn't even bother going back to the office. Instead Ieyasu texted Mitsuhide a brief summary of the situation and boarded the subway immediately after court. What was usually a tolerable commute felt like waiting in line at Hell’s DMV--infinite and agonizing. When the building doors swung open he charged up the stairs two at a time, reaching his small apartment in moments. Typically he took off his shoes before coming in.

Not this time.

This time he shoved the key in the lock and bumped open the door with his hip, stumbling in to find Mitsunari and Williams on the couch. There she was--there she was--whole and in one piece and genuinely okay.

“Ieyasu!” She called, her smile stretched. “Hi!”

What did he do? He hung in the door just long enough before remembering it was a security risk to keep it open, then he shut, locked, and deadbolted it. “Did you call Takeda?”

“Already done,” Mitsunari replied. “I made some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’ll make you a new cup,” Ieyasu deadpanned at Williams. “Sorry you had to drink his butchered swill. Hold on, just--you’re okay?”

She nodded slowly. “I didn't even know… I mean, I hadn’t heard there were any threats. I don’t think they’ve arrested anyone yet.”

The very real possibility something could’ve happened to her passed unwanted through his mind. He sat his briefcase heavily in the doorway and made his way into the kitchen, scooping up a small dusting of stray tea leaves and discarding them in the sink. His hands were shaking. Ieyasu did his best to still himself, but even as he filled his old metal kettle, it banged against the sides of the sink. Williams emerged at his side.

“Do you need help there?”

“No,” he snapped harshly, “It’s my kitchen. I know what’s where.”

“Didn't say you didn't.”

“Go sit down.”

“You seem rattled is all…”

He set the kettle down onto the stove and flipped it onto high. “Yeah, because I’m the one who might’ve died.”

She fell silent and still. Mitsunari appeared in the corner, his bright eyes luminous. “I’m sorry for abandoning you at the court--”

“Shut up!” Ieyasu snapped. A mental image of her, laying on the ground, bleeding out from some awful thing, the red liquid tangling in her twists bubbled unwanted in his mind. “Just--just go sit down--”

“Ieyasu,” Williams murmured, “Come here.”

“No.” He filled a mug for her. “Sugar or honey?”

“Yasu.”

The next thing he knew her arms were around him. Ieyasu almost struggled, but she was so warm, the strength of her arms buoyed by the breath in her lungs, the sweet smell of honeysuckle enveloping him. Without thinking he shut his eyes and braced her tight to him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, and he wanted to yell that it wasn’t.

“Shut up,” he mumbled instead, clutching her tighter against him.

Her hand pressed soft against his cheek. Ieyasu looked at her, and there she was, so very close, her dark eyes beautiful. Hell. He felt himself falling into them (and if he were honest, he always wanted to, wanted to swim in the lagoon of her eyes, to soar through Mitsunari’s and come back to earth through her).

“Come here,” she breathed. “Please?”

She tasted like peppermint and coffee. Ieyasu spent so long savoring the first kiss that he almost didn't surface for air. But then he did, and she was still there, Mitsunari leaning in the frame of the kitchen just watching, and Williams leaned back in for another.

“You need another phone,” Ieyasu murmured when they broke away, and she giggled against him. “This can’t happen again.”

“No?” Mitsunari was there now, his arms wrapping around her waist and Ieyasu’s shoulders. “Are you talking about the kissing or the death threats?”

Ieyasu’s mind whirled. “I--I was referring to being scared lifeless--what are you talking about--?”

“It looked like fun. I wanted to try.”

Ieyasu was too blank from shock to fight it. When Mitsunari leaned in, he tilted his head back despite himself. Mitsunari tasted like book pages and sunshine, soft and sweet and warm. Williams buried her face in his neck and Ieyasu took a thick fistful of Mitsunari’s hair before they broke away.

“What the fuck,” Ieyasu managed.

Mitsunari cocked his head, expression too innocent for what had just transpired. “I didn't think that was on the table so soon.”

Williams barked a laugh into Ieyasu’s shoulder. All at once Ieyasu realized the tea was oversteeped and disentangled himself from the two of them, still struggling to make sense of everything. “I--sugar? Honey? You didn’t—I asked, but you never—”

“Honey works, thank you--”

“Yeah, uh, here.” He thrust the mug and the jar into her hand, shuffling around for a spoon. “Didn't, uh, didn't think they taught that at Yale, Mitsunari.”

Mitsunari smiled sweetly. “Oh no. I learned that at Columbia. Those were interesting parties.”

Ieyasu dropped the spoon and fumbled for a new one. “Alright then.”

“Do…” Williams squeezed a thick dollop of honey into the mug, accepting the second spoon gracefully. “Do we talk about this now?”