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the12thnightproject · 8 months

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Chapter 15: Mitsuhide POV - Mistake Compounded: (Surprise) Gacha Chapter - Mitsuhide's take on recent events.

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Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

“The usual place?” Goro slung the unconscious priest over his shoulders as easily as if he were carrying a sack of rice from the fields. The man had been a farmer once, before the wars displaced his clan. Eventually, he found his way into Mitsuhide’s service, where his combination of brawn and quick intelligence made him a valuable operative, one willing to do tasks that Mitshide would hesitate to ask of Kyubei.

“No.” Mitsuhide found a handkerchief and swiped at a smear of blood on his knuckles. Normally, he preferred to use less physical methods when interrogating a prisoner. Emotional pressure – at least the sort that was his expertise - was generally more effective than torture. But the priest was creature of anger, who only understood violence, one whose family had condemned him to his church in the hopes that their God would do what a strict upbringing could not. “Arrange for him to be found outside a brothel. His more religious brethren will take care of him from there.”

The Nanban missionaries would be horrified; and eager to send him back west, or at the very least, to the Funai diocese in Nagasaki, where they could keep a closer eye on him. Such a man was counter with their evangelical mission.

“As you wish.” With that, the priest was hauled away, leaving only a puddle of urine where he had soiled himself during Mitsuhide’s interrogation.

Mitsuhide cleaned the mess himself – it would not do for the machiya’s storerooms to contain anything but the very best in spices and lacquerware. Blood and excrement would ruin the atmosphere.

As you wish. Odd how Goro’s respectful acceptance of Mitsuhide’s orders echoed uncomfortably with Kaya’s defiant use of the same phrase. Certainly, he would prefer her to be obedient – their task would be far easier – but he was finding her little rebellions and protests entertaining… at least until this evening when he had discovered that underneath her defiance was very real fear.

What was behind that terror (for it had indeed been terror)? What would it take for her to confide in him? Certainly, he did not require her to trust him, for that was not a thing offered even as easily as obedience (and Kaya was anything but that). However, if she ever did grant him her confidence, he would feel honored.

Mai had trusted him… Mai trusted too quickly.

It was with the spector of Mai in his head that he went to scrub the stains of this night off his body. After that… perhaps he had earned the indulgence of enough wine to scrub his memories for a few hours.

Neither would be removed as easily as the stains from the floor.

Respite had not been earned, nor given. The sliver of the moon was still in the sky when he heard the light tapping of feet, as Kaya crept down the stairs. Annoyed at the interruption to his solitude, he offered a challenge that ought to have sent her scurrying back to her room. “Couldn’t sleep? Or… were you interested in renegotiation?”

Even in the dim light of the staircase, he could see her scowl at him. Or perhaps he knew her enough to know that would be her automatic response to that suggestion. “Never mind. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow when you’re sober.”

Oddly, her statement made him want her company after all. The sake wasn’t working to ease his soul. Arguing with Kaya would at least be a distraction. He placed his cup on the desk, as much to prove to her that he was indeed sober, as to prove to himself the same. “I could drink twice this much and remain unaffected.”

She still seemed hesitant, and now that his eyes had adjusted more to the dimness on the stairs, he noticed she was shaking. “What is it?” He beckoned her closer. “I presume this is important.”

“I think it might be.” She threw herself onto the cushion, even at this hour a picture of vitality. Her hair was poking out of her ponytail in all directions – there was even a piece stuck to her cheek. Had she been crying? He pushed away the urge to brush it off her face and instead offered to share his drink.

She shook her head. “I can’t. It gives me nightmares. Waking nightmares too. And, I already just had a sleeping one that woke me up.”

Ah. It was not a surprise that the events of this evening had affected her. Though trained by Akihira, it was clear that the man had not utilized her in any darker ventures. Mitsuhide imagined that if he had a daughter of his own, he would be much the same, and do his best to keep the girl in the light.

As for the priest, at least Mitsuhide could reassure Kaya that he would not trouble her in the future. “A nightmare about the priest? He will no longer be a factor.” The man had acted on impulse – spotting ‘Kyubei’ and Kaya at the shrine, he had taken a chance to be revenged upon the events of the auction. There was no connection between the priest and the disappearances of Hideyoshi, Mai and Aki. Of that, he was now certain.

“A different nightmare.” Three words. Words that made Kaya look small… and cold.

He noticed that she had fled her room without putting on her shoes… or even a yukata. He could see a vague outline of her body through the thin material of her night kimono. The latter observation had him speaking more honestly than intended. “If you’ve come to me to be soothed, I’m flattered.” But the only comfort he had the right to offer was…. He took off his socks and passed them to her. “Don’t protest. I never feel extreme heat or cold.”

“Alright.” She slipped the socks onto her her feet. “I guess to explain the nightmare, I have to go back and explain why I don’t like boxes.”

Interesting. He would finally learn the reason for her terror of … “The palanquin.” This could potentially be a long conversation, so he poured himself another drink – an action he had cause to be grateful for when he heard her next words.

“Yes. Well. About five years ago, someone tried to kill me, or maybe just get rid of me – by locking me in a crate and leaving it in a warehouse.” Her hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white with tension.

The thought of someone locking a child - and five years ago, Kaya… no, she was Katsu… would hardly be past childhood - into a crate and abandoning her made him wish the culprit were before him right now. There would be no mercy, no attempt at emotional pressure. But that… was for another time. At the moment, he could offer the comfort of quiet logic. “The warehouse that currently belongs to Shojumaru.”

“Yes – that one. I don’t know if he owned it then though. The crate I was in got hidden under a heavy shipment of western muskets. I couldn’t get enough leverage to move the lid.” She faltered in her story as the rest of her became as pale as her knuckles.

Before she fainted, Mitsuhide took hold of those trembling hands, willing to transfer a measure of detachment to her. “Katsu. Look at me. Breathe.”

She breathed.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, until the breathing became easy, until her grip relaxed, until …

She pulled away.

Now Mitsuhide’s hands felt cold. He wrapped them around the sake bottle.

She took one last deep breath and continued. “While I was in there – before I realized I was trapped - I overheard a conversation between a foreign merchant and a man he called Motonari.”

Motonari?

It was the last name he’d expected to hear. The man was dead. Had been so for a long time. Too long ago to make that possible. “Five years ago? The only Motonari I can think of who would have been interested in and able to acquire a large shipment of weapons is Mouri Motonari, and he’s been dead for longer than that.”

Katsu shrugged, and the edge of her kimono slipped lower on her shoulder. “So were Kenshin and Shingen, and they’re still alive.”

“You’re suggesting Mouri Motonari is not dead. That’s… possible. The Mouri clan has been rather active of late. However…” It was an interesting avenue to pursue, but she could have told him this in the morning. Perhaps she had come out here indeed seeking comfort… seeking hi-

“The thing is - I think he’s Shojumaru. His voice. It’s been bothering me about him since we met.” Her words knocked the other avenue of thought out of his head. “Shojumaru was the man in the warehouse back then. The one that they called Motonari.”

Shojumaru is Motonari? It… should have come as more of a shock. After all, he had been certain that Shojumaru was hiding something… even the man’s name. Shojumaru. It was a child’s name. Many men discarded their childhood name when they came into leadership. Or repurposed it as he was even now with his own childhood name of ‘Juubei.’ “You are certain about this?” When she bristled in protest, of his questioning, he added, “I do not doubt your story, only what time does to the memory. As you say, it has been five years.”

“Five years of a memory that regularly appears in my nightmares. He could not have been aware that I was trapped in there. That was just a coincidence on his side.” Her voice was calmer, clear with certainty, and he found himself inclined to accept the story.

Inclined to accept it, and curious to know how she had been freed. “How did you escape?” She looked surprised at that – but the Shojumaru revelation could keep for a little while longer. What he needed to know now was how she had escaped that ordeal, and if anything from that escape was likely to interfere with their current task. Interfere more than need to avoid palanquins in the future. “It’s not such an unusual question – someone must have found you, for here you are, sitting with your feet in my socks.”

She glanced at her hands, a sure tell that she was considering lying to him… or avoiding the question somehow. “A person heard me yelling later and rescued me.”

A ‘person.’

“A random passerby to a warehouse that was used by weapons smugglers.” He had a suspicion as to the identity of that ‘person.’ Would she finally tell him? Or even now would she hold back information that at this point was useless. “For if you had been rescued by Aki, you would have mentioned it. And let me digress to remind you that it’s as important to take note of what a person does not say, as it is to listen to what they do. Therefore, the name of your rescuer…?”

“I don’t actually know if those weapons were smuggled. It could have been a legal shipment….” He stared at her until her rambling prevarication reached a truthful response. “It was Kennyo.”

Finally. The truth was too late, far too late, and Kennyo was dead now. Even so, Mitsuhide was glad to have the gift of her honesty. “Ah. The reason for your stubbornness at the beginning of the summer is now revealed. Were you working or him?”

“What? Oh. No.” She sounded surprised enough at the question for him to accept her denial. “But I felt like I owed him for saving me, and that life debt weighed. And at the time you questioned me, I had no idea that he was anything but a travelling monk.”

That… he doubted, but it was also unlikely that Kennyo had told her what he was doing, or what he had planned. She might not have had direct knowledge, but she likely had had her suspicions. “Katsuko, you are far too smart to believe that.”

He noticed she had turned her attention to the teapot he had neglected to dump out earlier. Were this a true interrogation, he might have denied her a drink, or even taunted her with it. “It’s from this morning.”

She shrugged, so he poured poured her a cup, then laughed inwardly at the look on her face when she got a taste of it. I did warn you. If he had been willing to stop the flow of her story, he might have put a kettle on the irori and boiled more water for fresh tea. “Kennyo.”

“He found me, pulled me out, and Aki caught up to us a little while later. Anyway, he took us back to his encampment, found some clothes for me, and… well, he hinted that he might some day come to ask me to repay him, or ask it of Aki.” She coughed, sipped more tea, and coughed again. “Forgetting that I had not seen him when I briefly crossed his path that night seemed like a harmless way to repay him.”

“Harmless. Did it occur to you that if we had been able to capture him at that point, then he would not be able to return and ask a favor?” The expression on her face did not change, but clearly, she hadn’t thought of that. It spoke of a sense of honor. Misplaced in this particular instance, but honor just the same. “Never mind. Sometimes I forget how young you truly are.”

“Besides, there were so many people in the woods that night. I figured someone else must have seen him too, and if so, you were bound to figure things out without me.” That was an interesting statement, and suggested there might have been other people that she hadn’t mentioned seeing. Before he could call that out, she changed the direction of the conversation. “What do you plan to do about Shojumaru? Motonari.”

Until he could determine if Motonari had taken Hideyoshi and Mai and where he was likely to have taken them, there wasn’t much he could do. Yet. With the access to the Mouri fleet, as well as merchant ships, he could be hiding them anywhere. He presumed that at some point the man planned to make a move – the task was to move there first. “Watch him. See if he makes a mistake. Find out if he has any weaknesses and exploit them. For the moment, de Sousa still seems to be a key here. Hideyoshi met with de Sousa. If I can prove a stronger connection between him and Motonari, it would give me a lever to press. If Motonari is involved, it makes the situation political. They could be hostages instead of slaves. If Motonari had… executed them… he would have taunted Nobunaga about that.”

And if Motonari has executed them, whatever hell he has been through in the past is nothing like he will face in the future. He wouldn’t wait for Nobunaga to determine a punishment. The Oda could have whatever was left of Motonari’s body.

“What are they like? Lord Hideyoshi and Lady Mai. What are they like?” Katsu’s voice startled him. He’d nearly forgotten she was in the room.

He poured himself another drink, allowing every drop of the sake to fall into the cup. “Hideyoshi is Nobunaga’s right hand man. He’s a good man… idealistic… devoted… passionate… honest. An all around pain in the ass.”

He didn’t know what Katsuko was expecting him to say, but it clearly hadn’t been that, for she suddenly laughed. He realized that he had never seen her smile before (true, he had not given her any reason to… not that that had ever stopped Mai). “You don’t smile very often.”

It was like getting a glimpse of a completely different person, one that he wanted to know as much as he wanted to know the Katsu who was capable of passionately arguing with him and the one who was terrified of boxes. That thought was rather terrifying in itself. He didn’t want to like her.

He couldn’t afford to.

Katsu covered her mouth. “Um… what? Should I?”

Nor could he afford for her to become self-conscious about her expressions. Her customary ‘neutral face’ was helpful in this line of work. “Dear me, no. Not if you don’t feel like it. It wasn’t meant as a criticism. For what is needed, your face is completely appropriate.”

“I don’t trust smilers. The man who tried to kill me was like that.” She rubbed her arms, and though he was aware that she had done so to comfort herself, the action again caused her kimono to slip, revealing more shoulder.

To avoid being further distracted, he pealed off his own outer robe and passed it to her. He didn’t need it, especially not now, while he warmed by her presence.

Katsu accepted the robe, and curled into it. She looked like a small child wearing her father’s clothing. “And… Lady Mai?”

What about Mai? His greatest weakness… his greatest regret. His greatest victory – one over himself, and his desires – for Mai and Hideyoshi were each half of the same. Light goes to light. “Completely devoted to Hideyoshi and his dreams. At a look, the two of them can enter a world where they are the only two inhabitants.” He lifted his cup, then noticed it was empty. “Hand me that bottle.”

She slid the bottle toward him. “It’s nice that they found each other.”

“He tried not to want her… but with Mai, that’s not possible.” That… was not something he should have revealed to Katsuko, but with any luck she would not think too deeply on the implications of that. Especially if he directed equal praise toward Hideyoshi. “He believed that Nobunaga wanted her for himself, and Hideyoshi is nothing if not self-sacrificing. The man would work himself until he dropped from exhaustion if no one stopped him. And then he would still find time to scold everyone else.”

He watched her burrow deeper into his kimono, feeling gratified that she found it a comfort. And… did she just sniff the sleeve and smile? He filed that away for future teasing. “Does he scold Mai too?”

“Sometimes. If she works too hard. He can’t help it. It’s in his nature to mother everyone. Though Mai at least can get him to rest.” A few weeks prior to their disappearance, Mai had organized something that she had called a ‘dinner party.’ She’d worked closely with Masamune to choose the foods, had decorated Hideyoshi’s manor for the occasion, and then over the course of the meal, had proceed to gently fuss so much over the guests (which had only been himself, Masamune, and Mitsunari) until Hideyoshi sat her down and made her eat too. She’d told him she didn’t need to relax, but that everyone else did, because she knew they were all working hard to build a better world. “Mai is the most idealistic person you will ever meet. Yet, as she much as passionately despises war, she’ll leap into any fight to defend her friends or an innocent bystander, or… even me.”

“I’m having trouble imagining that you ever needed to be defended.” She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, as if waiting for the whole story. “Who dared?”

“I dared, in fact. I needed to appear to be working for Kennyo, and I carefully constructed matters to make myself look like a traitor. But Mai cut through the entire charade by refusing to believe I was guilty.” He’d never forget the sight of her, defiantly facing him in the dungeon, threatening to reveal his innocence to everyone unless he confided in Hideyoshi. “And the evidence of my guilt was overwhelming – I ought to know, I manufactured it myself. With my reputation, it would have been more than enough to condemn me. But she and Hideyoshi never doubted my innocence.”

There was a long moment of silence, while she appeared to think that over, her lips pursed in concentration. He directed his senses to the feel of the wine in his mouth, for he was becoming far too curious about how her mouth would feel under his. He’d almost banished that odd urge, only to be surprised when she did finally speak. “Well, to be honest, I would have a hard time accepting your guilt too. I mean, ok, I don’t like you, but anyone with eyes and a logically functioning brain can tell you’re loyal to the Oda.”

It was … not that same as Mai’s blind faith in him. Katsu was a creature of logic, and he was certain that were he to ask her what evidence she had used to reach that conclusion, she would tell him in detail. It was still gratifying that she had been able to put aside whatever resentment and rebellion she felt toward him to give him a fair trial in her mind. The, personal dislike, on the other hand…. “What a pity. I believe I have treated you perfectly well. I am a very likeable fellow. Although I suppose it’s flattering that you too would defend my innocence. Flattering. But foolish.” He tapped her on the nose… a gesture that he would give to a foolish child, to remind her who had the power in this room. To remind himself of that as well. “Have you forgotten that you’re my prisoner?”

Absently she rubbed her nose. Brushing away his touch? Or memorizing it? “Don’t worry. I think you’re capable of a great many morally grey things. But in service to a Nobunaga’s cause… not for personal gain.”

His thoughts returned to the blood and urine stains he’d cleaned out of the storeroom. “For this cause there must be someone willing to take on the burden of evil. And someone must be the light to my dark. That has always been Hideyoshi. It’s a delicate balance we make up – Nobunaga needs him, his honesty, as much he needs someone to carry out the missions that no one speaks about. Someone to interrogate--”

Interrogate… perhaps Katsu was more skilled at this than he had imagined. Had tonight been a ploy to discover his weaknesses? He took hold of her chin and looked directly in to a pair of defiant eyes. “Is that what this has been? An interrogation? Looking for a weakness in your captor?”

Her eyes stayed on his. “Always.”Then she shrugged. “Making conversation. Trying to chase away my own nightmares.”

Which had been the truth? Her defiance? Or the need for comfort? For the first time in a very long time, Mitsuhide couldn’t read someone. Maybe both had been true. Maybe neither. Either way, it was a signal to end this conversation. And a signal to return their … association to its prior transactional level. He did not need a friend. He did not need to drag another person into darkness with him. “Have they been chased? For I know that if Hideyoshi were here at this moment, he would tell us both to go to bed now. And to clean our teeth first.”

Understanding his unspoken message, Katsu stood up.

Good. He would stay here, alone, in the dim light where he belonged.

But Kats-Kaya would not leave him even that. “He would be correct… in both. You should go to sleep… Lord Mitsuhide.”

Once again, time to remind her of her precarious position. Of her options. “Will you escort me to my bed? It’s not too late to renegotiate.”

She would refuse him, of course. She must. The other alternative was not thinkable.

“To your door.” Her voice, her posture echoed Kyubei’s. Kyubei, who was obedient, but was confident enough to speak his mind.

“Planning to take on Kyubei’s role?” That would be a workable compromise – a vassal whom he could count on to follow directives. He would be responsible for her, naturally, but there was no need to encourage a friendship.

With that in mind, he took her arm… and the feeling of her skin under his fingertips was like a drug in the blood, more potent than sake.

Over the course of the journey up the stairs, to the door to his room he concentrated only on putting one foot before the other, his own breathing, and not on her warm presence beside him. By the time he stepped inside his own room, where she, as planned, halted at the threshold, he had his pulse in check once again. He could return to thinking of her as Kaya.

He lightly pulled on her hair, then turned his back on her, even as she slid shut the door.

As he heard her footsteps fade away, heard her own door open and shut, he decided to spend as little time with her as possible. It ought to be simple enough to make her hate him again.

Tomorrow… he would ride to Azuchi, and discuss with Nobunaga what they had learned.

Perhaps he would even stay there for an extra day or two.

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