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Chapter Text

A searing agony shot through her shoulder as he pulled her left arm back at an unnatural angle. Her head tilted to one side, his hot breath damp on the side of her neck, the scent of stale tobacco filling her nostrils. She barely suppressed the groan. It was far from the worst thing he had made her endure...  don't think about that...  and still, she had not talked. How long has it been? How many days? She was so tired that she couldn’t think straight anymore.

He twisted her arm further, his face emotionless, sharp blue eyes glinting through the thick rims of his glasses. She yelped, then her mouth snapped shut, a tight grimace on her face. 

“Tell me the formula,” he purred gently, his voice at odds with the brutal strength of his grip and the look of disgust that twisted one corner of his lip, “Give me what you owe me and this can all… end.”

End? The word echoed in her mind, a vague promise against the roaring pain. End the pain? End the questions? She clung to that thought, a fragile raft in a sea of suffering. Every muscle in her body screamed to give in, to just let the words fall out, but something deep inside roared with defiance. 

She groaned, each shallow breath a spike of fire in her chest, as he applied a knee to the center of her back, “Go… fuck… y-yourself… John.”

He brought her arm down with a sickening crack, and a wave of white-hot agony obliterated everything, leaving only a strangled gasp in its wake. Black spots danced before her eyes, and she almost collapsed in place, her head drooping. Only the sharp, stabbing torment of her broken ribs, entwining with the raging inferno that burned through her arm, kept her from blacking out.

With his free hand, he reached out, the touch almost gentle as his fingers slid up her throat, then tightened, seizing her chin. He tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. His mouth was set in a thin, bloodless line, and a cold disapproval hardened his eyes to icy chips of blue behind the thick lenses. His grip on her broken arm remained unyielding, a constant, throbbing reminder of his power. Leaning in, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. It was a gesture that should have been paternal, comforting, but it felt utterly repulsive, a violation that made her stomach churn. The contrast between the feather-light touch on her skin and the crushing pressure on her arm was sickening, a grotesque parody of tenderness.

"I am running out of patience, Princess," he mocked in that gentle voice, but it was a cruel imitation of the tone she remembered, "and that is unfortunate for you. The outcome is inevitable, you see. It’s just a matter of how much more pain you wish to endure."

A whimper escaped her as he yanked her arm, the shattered bone grinding against itself. Cold sweat slicked her skin, each bead a tiny testament to the agony. Damn it, Ness, keep it together! Hail Mary, full of… no. What’s the point? If He was there, this wouldn’t be happening. She gritted her teeth, her jaw clenched, even as her eyes rolled back in her head from the inescapable pain.

“W-what… were w-we… talking… about… a… gain?” she gasped out the words, her own voice almost unrecognisable to her.

He snapped her arm down again, another crack vibrating through her twisted body. The pain was so intense that her vision turned white and a choked gurgle was all that emerged from her dry, cracked lips. 

Please. Please stop. 

“You’ve always been so stubborn,” that soft voice murmured next to her ear, sending a shiver of revulsion through her, “But… you’re running out of time, and trust me, you don’t want to see what happens then. The formula, Princess.”

This was the only thing he ever asked for. Just follow the protocol, Flynn. Trust the process. His voice echoed in her mind, a cruel counterpoint to the memory of a strangled cough, a desperate scrape against metal. A flash of a hand, reaching, nails scratching at glass. A face, contorted in a silent scream. The red light flashing on the security door. The metallic tang of fear in her mouth, the scent of something acrid and unfamiliar stinging her nostrils. She groaned, not from the pain, but from the weight of the memory.

“I… I can’t…” her voice cracked, tears stinging in her eyes despite her resolve, “Even if… even if I wanted to… I can’t.”

“Oh, Princess,” John sighed, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Surely you haven’t been holding out hope that the King will come for you? He let her die. And he’ll let you die too.”

A faint tremor shook through her, the breath snagging in her throat, and the room seemed to blur around the edges.

His voice hardened, his fingers tightening just enough on her chin to cause a sharp sting, “Don’t you forget that. Don’t you dare think your father will save you from this.”

He dropped her left arm to her side and it swung uselessly. There was silence except for her desperate gasps for air as she shivered upon the edge of shock. He rested a hand on her left shoulder, squeezing until the shriek finally escaped her, and then the room plunged into darkness.

She wondered if she had finally lost consciousness.  Can you be so tired that you fall asleep during torture? I fucking hope so.  Then the dim red emergency lights came up, painting the blood across her clothing in a more vivid shade of scarlet, and shouting echoed faintly in the distance. John frowned, releasing her shoulder, though pain continued to ripple through her as if his fingers still gripped her. He was almost at the door when it burst open, slamming against the wall outside. 

A voice, high-pitched with panic, shrieked from the corridor, "Professor! We're under attack! They’re saying it’s the King!"

“The King?” John scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand, “Improbable. Now deal with it.”

Improbable? No… impossible. The old man won’t come for me. But maybe… 

Ness’ head lolled forward, her chin hitting her chest. She drew a long, shallow, shuddering breath - and then a harsh, broken laugh bubbled up from her throat, turning quickly into a wet, rattling cough. 

John’s sharp, cold eyes flicked from the doorway back to her, "Oh? Did I finally push you over the edge? Is that what that sound was?”

"You... forgot... s-s-something."

Her voice wavered, breaking on the last word. It felt like her throat was closing up, and she had to force the words out through sheer will.

John’s frown deepened. He reached under his lab coat and drew a sleek, black pistol, the movement smooth and practised. He took a slow, deliberate step towards her, then another, and another, until he was standing mere inches away. She could smell the faint scent of chemicals clinging to his clothes, hear the soft hiss of his breath. He leaned in close, his cold eyes boring into hers, then glanced back at the open doorway, the sounds of the escalating chaos echoing in the space between them.

"Well, Princess, enlighten me. What is it that I’ve overlooked?”

“A-all… all the King’s men,” she hissed, bitter amusement lacing her voice.

“All the King’s men…” John paused, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he echoed her words, “and all the King’s horses… won’t be able to put Princess back together again, will they?”

But she could see it. She could see the flicker of uncertainty in those icy blue eyes, the moment he wondered… if her brothers really would come. He turned with a deep sigh of frustration and headed towards the door. Then he glanced back, over his shoulder, and that cruel smile morphed again into something… mockingly gentle.

“Stay quiet like a good girl… and perhaps I might even reward you.”

The promise of ‘reward’ came in a soft voice but something dark underpinned it, something that made her skin crawl, as if every nerve ending was remembering something she desperately wanted to forget. She felt frozen, unable to move or speak.

John turned and strode out. He pulled the door shut with a sharp, decisive click, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. The room felt unnervingly still, the stark overhead lights glaring down on her like accusing eyes. The sounds of the fighting outside were now abruptly muffled, as if a thick wall had slammed down between her and the world. She was utterly alone, trapped in this brightly lit box, her body a canvas of bruises and blood, her mind a fractured maelstrom of pain and disorientation.

Her body, finally registering the reprieve, began to unravel. It took ten long seconds to decide if it was going to surrender to the inevitable shock.

No. No. Not here. Not now. I have to get out. I have to. Just keep breathing. Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win.

He was correct when he suggested that there was zero chance of her father arriving to save the day. He didn’t do it for her… he’s not going to do it for me either. There was a very good chance that whatever was happening in the complex had nothing to do with her. Still, if nothing else, this situation provided the distraction she needed and it would be foolish not to make use of it.

You need to move! Now, Ness! Now!

She focused all her energy on her right arm, twisting the rope. With a final yank, she pulled her hand free. Her teeth clenched so hard she thought they might crack, the rope tearing at her skin, the raw pain mixing with the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and the coppery taste of fear. She hastily unwound the ropes holding her to the stool and stumbled to her feet, pushing herself upright with a wobble. Her arm throbbed with white-hot agony, each movement sending shards of pain up to her shoulder and down her spine. It felt like it was being crushed and incinerated at the same time.

She stumbled forward, her legs barely holding her, each step a monumental effort . Her shirt hung open to the waist and down to mid-thigh, every other scrap of clothing gone. The floor was slippery, and it took more than a moment to realise that it wasn’t the floor, but her feet - leaving bloody, smeared footprints in her wake. One foot in front of the other. Just one more step. Don’t think about the pain. Don’t think about the dizziness. Just move.

She ignored the searing pain of torn skin on her functioning hand, the blood slicking her palm, her fingers barely able to grip the handle of the door. It felt like her hand was on fire, but the burning in her other arm was worse, so much worse. Open. Key? No key. Just… turn. Door. Please. Please. Open. Open. The door swung outwards on her first attempt. The surprise was so great that she almost fell over.

She ducked her head slowly, cautiously, out into the corridor. The corridor seemed to stretch and sway before her eyes, the emergency lights flickering like dying embers. Is that movement at the end of the hall? Or just a trick of the light? Faintly, in the distance, off to the left, she could hear the sounds of voices shouting and weapons discharging. She turned to the right, her good hand holding on to the wall as she attempted to keep her balance.

She spotted a heavy overcoat hanging on the back of an office door, a lifeline in this nightmare. Naked beneath her torn, blood-soaked shirt, she knew she wouldn’t survive long exposed like this. With clumsy haste, she wrestled her good arm into one sleeve, then winced as she manoeuvred her ruined arm into the other. It was a struggle, the rough fabric scraping against her raw skin, but she managed to get it on. A few desperate tugs and she tied a couple of buttons together, a makeshift closure against the chill and her own vulnerability. 

Then, she stumbled onward, away from the sounds of the fighting, every movement sending jolts of agony through her body. Had it been seconds or hours since she freed herself? Time had become a meaningless concept, a blur of pain and desperate action.

Move faster! With a guttural groan, she forced her trembling legs into a jarring, agonizing jog, every impact sending fresh waves of fire through her shattered arm and ribs, her mind reeling with dizziness. Finally, she came to a junction and saw it – an exit door at the end of a corridor. The light above it seemed to shimmer and pulse, like a beacon of hope in the surrounding darkness. It has to be real. It has to be. The faint pulse of relief lasted for only a heartbeat.

"Flynn! You’re not going anywhere!"

A wave of despair washed over her as that voice - that voice that would haunt her for the rest of her days - rang through the corridor, piercing through the wave of confusion and the buzzing pain. Is this it? Is this how it ends? She wanted to curl up on the floor and give up, but something fierce and stubborn inside her refused to let go. She took another step.

His voice was almost… disappointed, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Princess.”

Harder for who? For you? To control me? To break me? Never again.

She gritted her teeth and fled down the corridor. She ignored the pain, and her pounding heart, and the shallow, gasping breaths, and focused completely on the door in front of her. She charged at it, crashing through with the slam of her right shoulder and an agonised cry, and burst out into the darkness.

It was a city, she knew that much, but not the one she remembered. This isn’t Tokyo. Kyoto? Why did he bring me all the way to Kyoto? The streets were eerily deserted, and the silence was broken by a strange, keening wind that seemed to vibrate with an unnatural energy. A thick, oily fog swirled around her legs, and the rain felt strangely cold against her skin. It wasn’t just water; it felt like something more.

Her body screamed at her to stop, to just give in, but she pushed past the protests, fueled by sheer, stubborn will, and something else, something she couldn’t name, pulling her forward.

She stumbled into a wide square, where the fog thickened to an almost impenetrable shroud. The air crackled with a strange energy, and the thunder overhead wasn’t a rumble, but a series of sharp, discordant booms. She caught her hip against something hard, something ancient and angular, and fell to her knees with a hiss.

"Mother-fuc..."

She didn't finish the curse. The lightning that tore across the sky wasn’t just light; it was a blinding discharge, raw power unleashed. It illuminated the square in stark flashes - the weathered stone of the monument… an unfamiliar figure in a white lab coat… John, across the square, his face twisted and distorted in the unnatural light. She tried to push herself back off the ground, her good hand slipping on the slick stones, but then the sky seemed to shatter with a silent explosion of pure, blinding light. The air shimmered and warped, and the fog pulsed. Everything crumbled, not just into darkness, but into a swirling vortex of colours and sensations, as if the very fabric of reality was unravelling around her. 

And then… the world dissolved.

Chapter Text

Red. That was the first thing. Red and flickering. Pain was the second. A relentless, throbbing pulse that seemed to originate from every single point on her body. Was she still in the chair? No. Lying down. That means… what? Heat. That came next. A heavy, suffocating heat that pressed against her skin, different from the fire that already raged within her. For a moment, she didn’t register it, the agony in her body a far more immediate inferno. But then, a prickle, a shift in the air, and she realised the heat was not just her own pain. It was… elsewhere. Around her. She tried to move, but every muscle screamed in protest. Focus, Ness.

She forced her unwilling eyelids open. The red flickered again, but now she could see it was not just in her mind. Blinking, accusing. And above that… stars. Stars? I’m outside? How? The last thing she remembered was… John - his cold eyes, his cruel smile, the sickening crack of her arm. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to block it all out. But the memories were relentless, pushing their way through the cracks.

She lay still for a long time, or what felt like it. Time itself seemed to have lost all meaning. The pain was a constant companion. She tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in her throat, a sharp, stabbing reminder of her broken ribs. Each shallow gasp was a victory, a small act of defiance against the agony. Just breathe. Just stay conscious. But it was so hard. The darkness at the edges of her vision kept threatening to pull her under.

Gradually, the world began to coalesce around her. The red lights, the stars, the heat - they started to form a distorted picture. She was on something hard and uneven. A balcony? And the heat… it was fire. The smell of smoke stung her nostrils, acrid and choking. Fire. Burning. Her mind latched onto the word, a single, solid point in the swirling chaos. Something is burning. A distant part of her knew she should be doing something, getting up, running, but her body refused to obey.

Then, a sound. Not the roaring of the fire, or her own ragged breath, but something else. She turned her head slowly, the movement agonising, and her vision swam. Indistinct shapes flickered in the firelight. Are they coming for me? Fear, cold and sharp, cut through the fog in her mind.

She blinked, trying to clear her vision, and the shapes resolved themselves into figures. Two men. One lying on the ground, still. The other standing over him, a flash of metal in his hand. A weapon. No. Something primal, something buried deep within her, whispered into life. It was a flicker, but it was enough. She rolled onto her side, a slow, torturous movement.

“Hey…” 

Her voice was a croak, barely a whisper. But the man with the weapon paused, his silhouette stark against the flames. The man on the ground remained motionless. The world tilted around her for a moment, dizziness washing through her, but she had to do something. Anything. 

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Pushing up was like trying to move a mountain, her very bones screaming in protest. It was an act of sheer will, a desperate clawing back from the abyss of pain and confusion. By the time she was vaguely upright, swaying like a drunk, the man with the sword was just a shadow disappearing into the smoke. 

Ness put one foot in front of the other, each step jarring her body with pain, and went towards the man still lying on the ground. Crouching was an exercise in sheer will. Every joint screamed. The man’s face was… something. Peaceful? Unconscious? Dead? Did it matter? It should. It should matter. A weak shake. Then another. Nothing. He’s not… is he? She slapped him. A pathetic, weak slap. Then another, harder.

“H-hey…” the word caught in her throat, a choked rasp. “H-hey!

Her hand, trembling, hovered inches from his face, ready for that third slap. But then, a grip like iron clamped around her wrist, halting the motion. He moved, and she found herself staring into a pair of eyes - dark, intense eyes that glinted red in the flickering firelight. A jolt of pure panic shot through her. Fuck! Is he… the Devil? Red eyes. Fire. Am I in hell? No, stop it. Concentrate, idiot. She’d forgotten any Japanese she might have known, and the fire… the fire explained itself, didn’t it? Does it?

She hauled herself to her feet again. Her lungs burned, each breath a ragged, painful gasp of smoke. She gestured vaguely towards the exit, a jerky, awkward motion. He stirred, his eyes still unfocused, but he pushed himself up, his movements slow and unsteady. She turned and stumbled towards the doorway, her focus narrowed to that single point. Out. I need to get out. 

Once they were a few steps away from the burning building, she stopped, bending over and hacking, trying desperately to clear her smoke-filled lungs. Each cough sent stabbing pains through her ribs, and her vision swam with black spots. She barely registered the man behind her. Her whole world was reduced to the burning in her chest, the agonising throb in her arm, and the desperate need to breathe. Just breathe. Just get air. Eventually, the coughing subsided into ragged gasps, and she straightened up, her head pounding.

Only then did she really notice him. He was standing there, just watching her, his expression unreadable. He was tall. Everyone is next to you. And he had a massive sword strapped to his hip. Her eyes widened. A sword?! It wasn’t just any sword either. The intricate design, the gleaming metal… it looked like something from a museum. What is this place? Her gaze flicked around, taking in the strange architecture, the unfamiliar surroundings. A cold dread began to creep into her. This wasn’t Tokyo. This wasn’t anywhere she recognised. John… he can’t be far behind. You have to move. Now.

She looked back at the man, his unwavering gaze making her skin crawl. He just stood there, silent, watching. Why isn’t he saying anything? She shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Doesn’t matter. She turned abruptly and started walking again, faster this time. John is coming. I need to get away. I need to get somewhere safe. Escape was her only goal, her only thought. The strange man, the burning building, the unfamiliar surroundings - they were all just obstacles in her path. 

The voice that rang out held both confidence and amusement. 「What's this? You save my life then walk away without a word? You must be brave.」

Words, sounds, a torrent she couldn’t grasp. And yet… she stopped.  Why are you stopping?  She turned her head, glancing back. Don’t let him delay you! You need to escape! She looked away, took another painful step.

「Or maybe you’re just foolish? Do you know who you're turning your back on, boy?」 The stranger spoke again, but she ignored him this time.

She kept walking, though each step was slow, so slow. She stared down at her bloodied feet, willing them onwards. This is not good. Just… keep moving.

「Mitsunari, detain him.」

「Of course, Lord Nobunaga.」

A voice from ahead. She stopped, looking up. Another one? This man… silver hair, purple eyes. An angelic smile. And... soldiers?! Where did they come from? She hadn’t noticed. Need to pay more attention.

「Please stop, young man, my lord wishes to speak with you.」

His voice was… soft. Like an angel. She tilted her head, considering. Don’t know. Don’t understand. Don’t panic. Need to get out. She turned to go, but another man was there. Shocking white hair, yellow eyes. Terrifying. A slow smirk appeared on his face. This is getting worse.

「Do not harm him, Mitsuhide. He saved my life.」

She decided to try a new tactic of ignoring whatever this was and simply getting on with... escaping? She stepped forward and the white-haired man reached out. Fireworks of pain exploded up and down her left side. Her vision turned black and she screamed, a raw, animal sound ripped from her throat. He let go in astonishment as she collapsed to her knees, her breath leaving her all in one whoosh.

She swayed, agony blazing through her body with renewed intensity, her head drooping and her eyelids closing as she fought off the encroaching darkness. No! Not here! She blinked open her eyes, desperately trying to focus. 

The white-haired man crouched down in front of her, that calm, unreadable face holding just the faintest hint of… concern? 

「Have you sustained an injury, boy?」 He spoke quickly, his words a rapid-fire burst of sounds she couldn’t decipher. She could only make out snippets of the strange language. It sounded… sharp. She blinked, her vision swimming, and when her eyes finally focused, he was right there. Close. Those amber eyes were staring back at her, intense and probing. As her gaze met his, something flickered in his expression - almost imperceptible, but there. Surprise? 

She couldn’t answer him. The pain was a roaring tide, and her throat felt like it was full of broken glass.

「Do you understand me?」 He spoke again, the words still just a torrent of sound to her.

She croaked out something, a desperate sound that was meant to be a response but came out as a broken rasp, “I’m… sorry… I don’t understand…”

The white-haired man looked up, exchanging a look with the silver-haired man that she couldn’t quite decipher. The silver-haired man looked genuinely surprised, his purple eyes widening slightly. But the man in front of her remained composed, his expression carefully controlled. Then he spoke again, his words slower this time, as if he were pulling them from somewhere deep in his memory. “Do you… understand me now?”

She nodded slowly, wincing at the movement. Her throat felt raw, but she managed to scrape out a hoarse, “Yes.”

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice low.

She hesitated. Who are these people? Are they with John? Is this some kind of… elaborate trap? Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible situation.

He tried again, phrasing it differently, “What is your name?”

For some reason, the way he asked it, the intensity in his amber eyes… it broke through her defenses. Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. “Ness Flynn…" She took a pained gasp of air. "Y-you… can call me Ness.” Why the fuck did you tell him that, idiot?!

He paused, those extraordinary eyes narrowing slightly. There was a fleeting something - a subtle shift of that ever-present smile - but then it was gone. He straightened very slightly. “Ness,” he repeated softly, the name rolling off his tongue with a subtle inflection that made it sound like both a question and an acknowledgement. “I am Akechi Mitsuhide,” he offered her a small, almost formal bow of the head, before he extended a hand towards her, “Can you stand, Ness?”

Ness hesitated. She looked at his hand, then up at his face, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I can’t let him see how bad it is but… fuck, can I get up on my own? She reached down, tried to push herself up with her good arm, but a wave of pain washed over her. She winced, her breath catching, felt her body almost go again. Mitsuhide’s hand remained extended, patiently waiting. 

She closed her eyes for just a moment, a few shallow, burning breaths to steady herself, and finally reached out with her good hand. Her grip was weak, but she took his hand. It was cool, surprisingly so, against her burning skin. His fingers, long and slender, closed around hers with a firm but gentle pressure. As he pulled her up, a sharp, focused stab of pain shot through her, different from the throbbing ache that was her constant companion. She bit back a groan, her teeth gritting together. He was strong, much stronger than she expected, and his movements were fluid, almost elegant. It was a strange contrast - the raw strength and the refined grace. He lifted her with a controlled, steady pull, as if he were handling something fragile. He held her steady for a moment, his hand still clasped around hers, before releasing her slowly to find her own balance.

“Thank you,” Ness gasped, her voice hoarse. But even as she spoke, her gaze darted around, searching for an escape route. “I… need to leave.”

Mitsuhide’s brow furrowed slightly. “That might not be wise. You’re injured.”

Ness ignored his words, taking a shaky step away. She noticed then that the other two men were staring at her intently, as if she were far more interesting than the burning building behind them. Their gazes lingered, taking in her soot-covered face, her shaved head, and the oversized overcoat that swallowed her small frame.

The dark-haired one, the one she’d saved, narrowed his eyes. 「Where did he come from?」

The silver-haired one tilted his head, as if he was working something out, then offered in that angelic voice, 「Perhaps he is a monk?」

Mitsuhide turned back to Ness, those amber eyes sharp and focused. “Tell me, what was happening before you encountered Lord Nobunaga?”

He didn’t ask directly if she had saved him; his question was far more loaded than that. Wait… Lord? Did he say Lord? Ness rubbed her temple, trying to clear the fog from her mind. “There was… somebody else,” she mumbled, the memory still hazy and fragmented, “and… a lot of noise.”

Mitsuhide paused, considering her words. Then he offered a translation to the silver-haired man and the one he’d called ‘Lord Nobunaga’. 

Nobunaga listened intently, undisguised interest on his face, then gave a curt nod. 「We need to know everything he saw. Bring him to the tent.」

Mitsuhide nodded, reaching out again, ignoring her flinch to place a hand on her good shoulder. Then he turned her gently, steering her towards a tent that had not been there five minutes before. 

“What are you…” Ness began, but her voice was a hoarse rasp. She tried to shake him off, to take another step, slow and painful, away from them.

“We’d like to continue our conversation in a more suitable place,” Mitsuhide said, his voice calm but firm. “It would be best for you.” It sounded very reasonable. But his grip on her shoulder was like steel, making it clear that this was not an invitation.

“No,” Ness managed, her voice barely audible. She took another step, but then she turned and found the silver-haired man on her other side. She flinched, holding up her hand as if to ward him off. His angelic smile faltered slightly.

“He won’t hurt you,” Mitsuhide said, his voice almost reassuring. “This is Ishida Mitsunari.”

Ishida Mitsunari. The name registered, but the fear remained. He was still blocking her escape route. Shit. Go along. For now. No chance. Need… a plan. A real plan.

And before she could consider whether there was a better plan than that, she had been firmly and politely escorted into the tent. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of smoke and something else, something earthy and unfamiliar. Rough-spun fabric formed the walls, and woven mats covered the ground. There were no electric lights, only the flickering glow of oil lamps casting long, dancing shadows. Ness barely registered the details; her focus was narrowed to the immediate threat, the men who surrounded her, and the burning agony in her body. She tried very hard to keep calm as Mitsuhide smirked, those intense eyes looking through her, and tilted his head as if considering what to say next.

He did not get any further, as a man with brown hair, light brown eyes and a panicked expression pushed into the tent. A flurry of rapid-fire Japanese erupted between him and the others. Before she could process what was happening, the newcomer had seized Mitsuhide by the collar, his voice rising in angry shouts. Mitsuhide, for his part, simply smirked back calmly, his expression unperturbed.

Ness flinched as the newcomer’s gaze snapped to her. He released Mitsuhide abruptly and stalked towards her, his eyes burning with fierce purpose.

「Is this the arsonist? He doesn't look like much. You will tell us everything you know, boy,」he hissed at her, his voice even angrier.

She tried to back away, a weak, almost pathetic attempt at escape. Her body was a cage of pain, and every movement sent fresh agony through her already screaming nerves. But she was too slow. He grabbed her by the left shoulder, his grip like a vise, and a strangled cry escaped her lips. It wasn’t just pain; it was a searing, blinding explosion that ripped through her arm and radiated outwards, consuming everything. Her vision swam with black spots, the edges blurring into a dizzying haze, and her knees buckled. She crumpled to the woven mats, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling uncontrollably. This time, she knew she wouldn’t be getting up.

“Jesus… fucking… Christ…” she gasped, pain vibrating in her voice. “Please… God… just kill me now.”

Before the newcomer could react, Mitsuhide stepped in, his movements swift and decisive. He pulled the man away, his hand firm on his arm. Nobunaga watched the exchange with an almost amused expression, as if he were enjoying a particularly interesting performance.

The four men quickly exchanged words in a flurry of Japanese, the newcomer’s voice rising and falling with a note of urgency, the others responding in shorter, clipped phrases. He looked increasingly guilty as the conversation went on, his gaze occasionally flicking towards her. Finally, the discussion seemed to settle. Mitsuhide crouched down in front of her again, his amber eyes studying her with unsettling focus.

“I apologise for Lord Hideyoshi's... error. Perhaps I should see this injury,” he gestured vaguely towards her shoulder, but his gaze lingered on the bloodstains that had seeped through the oversized overcoat.

Ness flinched, pulling back, her voice a rough whisper, “It’s… it’s not just one. And… I’m… underdressed.” She instinctively tried to pull the edges of the overcoat closer, a futile gesture given its size.

“We are all warriors here,” Mitsuhide said, his tone matter-of-fact. “There is no need for such concerns.”

Ness’ good hand went up to the stubble on her shaved head, her fingers tracing over the short, rough hairs - it was an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. She looked down, and for a moment, all that existed was confusion. Wait… they think I’m a boy?! 

“I’m not a boy,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

Mitsuhide paused, then responded in a measured voice, “Perhaps, in your culture, the definition of adulthood differs. You are young, but you have shown courage.”

Ness shook her head, then winced at the jolt of pain. She lifted her chin, exposing her bruised throat, and ran her scratched fingers lightly up the smooth path. A flash of John’s hands, tight around her neck, flickered through her mind, and she had to swallow hard to force the words out. “No…” she murmured softly, “I mean… I’m not a boy.”

His reaction was subtle. His eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on her throat with a new intensity. A shift in his posture, a barely perceptible pause before he spoke again. “I see,” he said slowly, his voice now laced with a hint of something unreadable. His eyes held a new, assessing glint, as if he were re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about her. If he was annoyed for missing something so obvious, it was carefully concealed beneath a mask of professional composure. Her eyes flicked away from him, and his exhausting intensity.

Nobunaga was staring at her, those dark eyes narrowed, and then a slow smile spread across his face. 「Well, well. It seems our ‘boy’ is full of surprises.」

Hideyoshi’s eyes widened with something akin to shock then slid away from her, an expression of acute guilt on his face. 「A woman? But I… I…」

Mitsunari remained silent, but his placid, angelic expression was now one of clear perplexity, his purple eyes fixed on her with a newfound curiosity.

Then Nobunaga laughed, a low, rich sound that filled the tent. 「To think, I owe my life to a woman who didn’t even know who I was. Fate certainly has a sense of humour.」

Hideyoshi cleared his throat, let out a sigh, his voice now subdued, 「We must ensure she is cared for properly. We owe her, and… we have treated her poorly.」

Mitsuhide’s lips quirked up slightly, just a flicker of amusement. 「Indeed, Hideyoshi. We have certainly made an impression.」

Hideyoshi’s expression tightened, his jaw tense. Mitsuhide made a soft amused noise, then his gaze returned to Ness. His movements were a touch slower, a touch more deliberate than before.

“Ness,” he said, the name sounding different now, softer, somehow, “I understand you are uncomfortable, but it is important that we assess your injuries. I assure you, I only wish to help.”

His sharp eyes held a new quality. They were still assessing, still probing, but there was a hint of something else there now - perhaps a flicker of respect, perhaps a sliver of apology. Or maybe it was just her imagination. He was almost impossible to read; yet, she sensed a subtle shift, a change in the way he held himself, in the way his gaze lingered on her face.

“No,” Ness mumbled, her voice barely audible, a weak tremor shaking her frame.

Her eyes darted around, searching for any flicker of an escape route, but the tent walls offered no solace. No, no, no. I can’t. I won’t. She pulled the fabric of her coat closer, as if it could shield her from their gazes, from their scrutiny. Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each one a painful reminder of her broken ribs. Mitsuhide’s gaze remained steady, patient, but there was an underlying resolve that sent a shiver of fear down her spine. She knew, deep down, that she couldn’t fight them. Her body was a broken thing, and her will, though still burning, was flickering like a dying ember. The futility of resistance crashed over her, a wave of despair that left her feeling hollow. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and she turned her head slightly away, then offered a small, almost imperceptible nod of resignation.

“Please… can they… turn their backs?” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

The request, so strangely polite for this bizarre situation, seemed to take them aback once Mitsuhide translated it. But they complied, turning away with a rustle of fabric and the subtle shifting of weight. With trembling hands, Ness fumbled with the oversized coat, the buttons catching and snagging. She finally managed to loosen the fastenings, the heavy fabric sliding down her front and catching halfway down her left arm, the arm that screamed in protest with every movement.

The sight that greeted her own eyes was worse than she had imagined. The shirt beneath was torn and soaked with crimson, the fabric sticking to angry, swollen flesh. A patchwork of cuts and bruises marred her skin, and the unnatural angle of her left arm, now partially exposed, told a story of far more than just a simple wound. She hadn’t really looked before, not properly, not beyond the constant, roaring agony that filled her every sense. Now, confronted with the physical reality of her injuries, a fresh wave of nausea washed over her, and she bit back a whimper. She glanced up and she saw Mitsuhide’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his gaze drawn to the grotesque angle of her arm, but his expression remained carefully neutral - a mask of professional detachment.

Mitsuhide reached out, his hand moving with a slow, deliberate grace that somehow made Ness even more nervous. She flinched, a reflexive jerk of her body away from his approach. Her knees were already aching on the hard floor, but she tried to shift back, to put more distance between them before he could touch her. No. Don’t. Keep your hands off me.

“Don’t!” she whispered, her voice raspy and weak, barely a sound against the crackling of the distant flames. 

“Your arm,” he said, his voice low and steady, cutting through her panicked thoughts, “needs to be… put back in place.”

Put back? Is that even possible? It feels like it’s been ripped off.

“It will not hurt,” Mitsuhide stated, reaching out towards her arm again, his fingers hovering just above the torn fabric of her shirt.

Ness let out another desperate noise, a small, choked sound of protest, trying to defer him, to buy herself another moment. “Yes, it will,” she managed to rasp, her eyes wide with fear and defiance. “It’s not just… dislocated. It’s… broken. In… a few places, I think.” 

She swallowed hard, the effort sending a fresh wave of pain through her throat. Don’t let him touch it. Don’t let him see how broken you are. Mitsuhide paused, his hand still outstretched, a flicker of something - perhaps sympathy, perhaps grim amusement - in his eyes.

“Well, then I take it back, little mouse,” he said softly, his voice taking on a new, almost apologetic tone. “This will hurt a lot.”

Oh God, no. Before she could protest further, before she could even draw another breath, he moved with swift precision. There was a sharp, sickening pop , a sound that seemed to shatter the silence. A wave of agony, incandescent and blinding, washed over Ness. It was a searing, tearing explosion that left only a raw, screaming nerve ending in its wake. She gasped, a choked, airless sound, her vision exploding into a kaleidoscope of shattered colours and fractured shapes. Hands, firm yet strangely gentle, lowered her to the ground, pressed against the burning torment in her arm, the agonizing ache in her ribs. The pain was a tsunami, a black wave threatening to drown her, to drag her into the abyss.

「We need to take her to Ieyasu.」 Mitsuhide’s voice seemed distant and muffled.

Nobunaga made an amused noise. 「He will not be pleased. He hates being dragged away for anything less than a battlefield.」

「But Lord Ieyasu is a wonderful choice! He is the most skilled healer,」Mitsunari piped up in a bright voice.

Hideyoshi sighed, 「Perhaps another physician? Someone less… preoccupied with other duties?」

There was a brief pause before Mitsuhide spoke again, his voice unwavering, 「No. Ieyasu is the only doctor we know who can handle this. His experience is… unique. He will know what to do.」

The words echoed, reverberated in the swirling darkness of her mind, meaningless sounds in a world that was fading away… and then the black tide rose, and she was gone.

Chapter Text

The night air was cold, biting, and the world around her spun, a dizzying blur of shadows and movement. Where are we going? Just… move. Keep moving. The horse’s gait was a relentless rhythm, each jolt a throbbing drumbeat against Ness’ skull, each step sending fresh spikes of agony through her protesting body. She clung to Mitsuhide, or whoever it was holding her, the soft fabric of his clothing a small comfort against the constant pain. His chest was hard, unyielding, and the scent of metal and something else - gunpowder? - filled her nostrils.

“Please…” she mumbled, her voice a dry rasp, “Just… let me down. I’m… I’m not supposed to be here.”

A brief silence, then a low murmur against her ear, words she couldn’t quite grasp. Her thoughts drifted, snagged on a memory, a warning. The King… he won’t like this. He’ll… he’ll send one of them. They’ll… A shudder ran through her, a mix of cold and fear. They wouldn’t hesitate.

“My father…” she whispered, the words catching in her throat, “He’ll… he won’t be happy. He’s the King, you see.”

Is he? Or am I dreaming? A pause, a shift in the hold around her. A flash of red, a scream, broken glass. No, not now. Focus. Where is John? Then, another thought, sharp and clear amidst the fog. My brothers… they’ll kill him. They’ll kill all of them. A wave of dizziness washed over her, the world tilting again, and then a firm hand steadied her. 

“Please, you… don’t understand,” she murmured, her head lolling against the hard chest beneath her, “He’s… he’s not like you. And my brothers… they’re worse. Much worse.” Her thoughts tangled, a jumble of fear and confusion, “They’ll… they’ll come for me. And then… then there will be trouble.” 

Her words trailed off, lost in the darkness and the relentless motion. Trouble? No. Blood. There will be blood.

The night pressed in, a heavy blanket of black. The rhythmic sway of the horse became a hypnotic drone, punctuated by the occasional creak of leather and the muffled thud of other hooves, lulling her in and out of consciousness. Are there others? Or just me? The cold seemed to penetrate everything, chilling her to the core despite the warmth of the body behind her. Is he still there? Or am I alone? A snatch of conversation drifted to her ears, a low murmur of Japanese she couldn’t understand. They’re talking about me? Are they? Or am I just imagining it? Time stretched and compressed, moments blurring into one another. One moment, she was aware of the hard warmth of Mitsuhide’s chest against her back. The next, she was falling. Falling into a deep, dreamless void.

She surfaced briefly, aware of a hand gently adjusting her position, a soft murmur against her ear. His voice. So low. What is he saying? But the words slipped away, lost in the swirling fog of her mind. A jumble of images and sensations. The metallic tang of fear in her mouth, the scent of something earthy and unfamiliar, the sound of wind whistling through the trees. Trees? Are we in a forest? Or is that just a memory? 

Hours bled into one another, indistinguishable in the darkness. The world became a series of disconnected moments. The sting of rain against her face. An animal howling in the distance. The warmth of Mitsuhide’s breath against her skin. A phantom echo of another breath, hot and stale, on the side of her neck. No, stop it. Not now. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open for a moment. The sky was a deep, star-strewn black, the landscape a blur of shadows. His voice near her ear, a comforting sound that chased away the worst of the nightmares. He’s still here. He’s still holding me. She clung to the sound, a lifeline in the darkness, before slipping back into the oblivion of sleep.

A pale wash of light began to bleed into the sky. Ness stirred, awareness flickering. She heard the chirping of unseen birds, a sound both distant and piercingly clear. Is it morning? How long have I been…? The landscape was no longer an indistinguishable blur. Shapes began to emerge - rolling hills, dark patches of forest, and then, something else. Buildings? The growing light was both a relief and a fresh assault on her senses, blurring the edges of her vision. Too much. Too much.

The light pierced through the fog in her mind, dragging her back to unwelcome consciousness. The rhythmic clop of hooves gave way to a cacophony of sounds - the clamor of voices, the braying of animals, the distant clang of a bell. Where am I? What is this? Buildings crowded in, their shapes strange and unfamiliar. The overwhelming scent of wood smoke mixed with something sweet like plums, something pungent like ginger, and a third scent utterly alien to her. This isn’t… right. This can’t be Tokyo. Or Kyoto. It’s like… like a movie set. Or a dream. A very bad dream. A sudden, sharp pang of something akin to understanding struck her. No. It’s impossible. But… what if…? The thought was too absurd, too terrifying, to hold onto for long. But it left a seed of doubt. A sliver of fear that this wasn’t just a bad dream, but something far more… impossible. She tried to focus, to make sense of what was happening, but her mind felt like it was filled with cotton wool. Time travel? No. But… what else? The ludicrous idea made her want to laugh, or cry, or both. She swayed, a wave of dizziness washing over her, and his hand steadied her. 

The movement of the horse slowed as they came to a series of low, sprawling buildings enclosed by a high wooden wall and passed through a heavily guarded gate. Some kind of… fortified compound? The buildings were constructed of dark, weathered wood, their roofs tiled and curved in an unfamiliar style. They stopped, and Ness was gently lifted down, a jarring motion that sent white-hot spikes of agony through her. Her vision blurred, then sharpened into a single, piercing detail - an icy blue eye staring down at her. John? Panic clawed at her throat, choking off her breath. No. No, not again. Pain exploded, a blinding flash, but she didn’t care. She thrashed, her good hand coming up in a desperate, clumsy blow that landed squarely on his chest. It barely seemed to register.

“No… don’t touch me… I won’t tell you…” she gasped, her words a disjointed mess. “I won’t… I can’t…”

「Please put her down, Masamune,」a voice, calm and familiar, slicing through her panic with unknown words.

Then she was gently set back on her feet. The ground beneath felt unsteady, the world tilting precariously. She gasped for breath, her head pounding, her body screaming with every tremor of fear. Her eyes darted around, seeking escape, but the world around her was a blur. Then amber eyes filled her vision and cool fingers wrapped around her hand.

“Ness, look at me,” that calm, soft voice murmured, “You are safe. He is not the man you fear. This is Date Masamune.”

Mitsuhide’s voice, his touch, slowly pulled her back to the present. She blinked, focusing on his knowing gaze, then slowly, hesitantly, looked up at the man who had been holding her. He was tall, imposing, with an eye patch and a rakish grin. Aside from the startling blue of one eye and his dark hair, he bore no resemblance to John. Shame washed over her, hot and prickly. She had attacked him. Without reason.

「This kitten has claws,」Masamune observed, a hint of amusement in his voice. He didn’t seem angry, just… intrigued. 

Then Nobunaga’s deep, resonant voice cut through the air, 「This ‘kitten’, Masamune, saved my life. She is my honoured guest. Treat her as such.」

Masamune laughed, 「 She saved your life? You’re getting soft, Nobunaga.」

He leaned in, that single blue eye staring at her with such intensity that she flinched, her body instinctively moving back. Then Mitsuhide raised a hand, a smile appearing on his face that she could only describe as… diplomatic? 

「Please do not touch the Princess again without my permission,」he stated, his voice calm but firm, 「That goes for all of you.」

Masamune raised a brow, a slow smile spreading across his face.  「Your permission, Mitsuhide? Since when do you hold such authority over Nobunaga’s guests?」 He paused, then added, 「Though I’ll admit this one is… fascinating.」

 「Wait,」Hideyoshi said as he dismounted, his voice holding something she couldn’t decipher, 「Did you just say she was a Princess?」

Then, their faces were all turned towards her again, their gazes intense, their escalating conversation a barrage of sounds that washed over her like waves. What do they want? What did I do now? Amidst it, Mitsuhide continued to smile, as if he was enjoying the reaction he’d elicited from them. He took her hand with a gentleness that felt less like an offer and more like a quiet command, leading her away from the others as she followed on unsteady feet.

Ness tried to take in the details - careful landscaping, stone pathways winding through meticulously raked gravel gardens, their patterns intricate and precise. The structures themselves were a blend of dark wood and paper screens, solid yet seemingly fragile, giving the manor an air of quiet strength. As they approached the main building, she saw a row of clay pots lining the edge of the walkway. Her eyes fixed on one in particular - it contained a small, unassuming plant with dark green leaves and tiny, star-shaped white blossoms. Is that… an Arisaema? I’ve never seen one outside a book. But this one was… different. Could it be a local variant? An undiscovered species? For a moment, the pain and the fear faded, replaced by a surge of scientific curiosity, something tangible to focus on amidst the chaos. 

Then Mitsuhide led her towards the entrance, a heavy wooden door adorned with intricate carvings. He slid the door open with a quiet rustle, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond. The air inside was cool and still. He drew her gently through the doorway, and she followed, her feet thudding softly on the polished floorboards. 

He settled her in a room that was surprisingly comfortable. Ness found herself propped up against a stack of silken cushions, the shift in position sending a dull throb through her body, but the searing agony of before had receded, replaced by a numb, distant ache. Is that good? Or very, very bad? A flicker of panic flared. Fuck, am I going into shock? She tried to focus, to keep her mind sharp, but her thoughts felt sluggish. The faces around her swam in and out of focus. She licked her lips, her mouth dry as dust.

“Water,” she croaked, her voice raspy. “Please, can I have some water?” 

One of them - she couldn’t tell - quickly produced a small, ornate cup. Ness reached for it eagerly, her hand trembling, and started to gulp it down. Then, a sharp pang in her stomach, a wave of nausea, and she had to stop, her breath catching in a painful gasp. The man with the eyepatch - Masamune, that’s what Mitsuhide had called him - was staring at her with that single, intense blue eye. 

「The lass seems anxious,」he said, his voice low and rumbling.

“What did he say?” Ness murmured, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy.

Mitsuhide’s voice, calm and measured, translated, “He observes that you appear… uneasy.”

Uneasy? The carefully chosen word almost made her laugh. She blinked, slowly, her gaze drifting from one face to another. Nobunaga, a hint of arrogant amusement in those carnelian eyes. Hideyoshi, his expression soft and concerned. Mitsunari, the one with the silver hair, still wore a perpetually perplexed expression. Masamune continued to stare intently, that single blue eye boring into her. And then there was Mitsuhide, his amber eyes unreadable, his white hair gleaming in the lamplight. Each of them, she noticed, had at least one weapon strapped to their person. Of course they do. I couldn’t have met a bunch of pacifists instead? 

“You have seen yourselves, right?” she said, her voice still rough. “You could start a small armoury. I, on the other hand, seem to have misplaced my arsenal.”

There was a brief flash of amusement in his eyes, a subtle shift in his smile, “Do the men of your culture not carry weapons?”

He’s smooth. Too smooth. Like he’s practised this a thousand times. Okay, what’s the best answer here? Something vague. Something that doesn’t give anything away.

Her eyes flicked towards the others for just a moment, then back to him, “Not openly.”

Mitsuhide raised a single eyebrow slightly, his eyes thoughtful, but that ever-present smile hid whatever he really thought of her evasive answer. He turned towards the others then, his tone measured, 「I believe she may be interpreting our strength as… a potential danger to herself.」

「A danger?」Hideyoshi spoke softly, his voice filled with what sounded like genuine worry.「But… we would never harm a woman. Did… did I frighten her? When I grabbed her? I didn't mean to.」

Mitsuhide shrugged, 「She seems to perceive a significant difference in… physical prowess. Perhaps she is concerned that we do not fully comprehend her… fragility.」

Masamune let out a soft laugh, that icy blue eye sparking with a playful light.「Fragile? She seems spirited enough. And she has claws, as I discovered.」

「She braved a burning building to pull me from certain death with her bare hands,」Nobunaga laughed too, but there was an edge to that sound. 「If this is fragility, I would hate to see her strength. But if she fears us … she should not. She has my protection. And I do not take lightly the debt I owe.」

The rhythmic cadence of their conversation continued, a wave of unfamiliar sounds that she couldn’t decipher, but she could read the emotions on their faces. Nobunaga’s arrogance, Hideyoshi’s guilt, the way their gazes kept flicking towards her. Mitsunari blinked slowly, his eyes wide with confusion, tilting his head slightly as if trying to understand a complex puzzle. Masamune, meanwhile, listened with rapt attention, his single blue eye fixed on her. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, a hint of a mischievous glint in his eye. Nobody made any attempt to include her or explain what they were saying. They were talking about her, that much was clear. But what were they saying? Were they deciding her fate? Debating her usefulness? The numbness in her arm was spreading, and a strange, heavy weariness settled over her. Finally, she let out a long, exasperated sigh, bringing immediate silence.

“If we are talking about what to do with me ,” she started, then dropped her head, exhaustion seeping through her voice, “my vote is for a swift end to this. Seriously, I’d thank you for it.”

“Ness,” Mitsuhide spoke softly, and she glanced up at those narrowed amber eyes, “we are not going to kill you. We want to help you. I assure you, we have no ill intentions.”

His gaze lingered on her face, and Ness thought that she saw something flicker in his eyes - a hint of sympathy, perhaps, or maybe just professional concern. Don’t cry. Don’t let them see you cry. You have to stay strong. She blinked, slowly, trying to figure out if he was genuine. But his expression remained mostly unreadable, a carefully controlled mask behind a perfectly judged smile that offered no real insight into his thoughts.

Mitsuhide turned towards the others again, those eyes thoughtful. When he spoke, his voice was low and measured, the tone very different from the calm, almost amused one he had used before.

「She says…」he paused, as if he was choosing his words carefully, 「if we are discussing what to do with her, she suggests a… ‘swift end’. She would be grateful.」

The words hung in the air for a moment. She could almost see whatever he’d said to them begin to sink in. A hint of surprise on Nobunaga’s face, giving way to a thoughtful frown. Hideyoshi’s guilt deepening. 

Masamune’s amusement faded, replaced by a perplexed look, and then he murmured softly, 「The kitten has a dark sense of humour.」

「I do not understand, Lord Mitsuhide,」Mitsunari’s angelic voice was clearly puzzled. 「Why would we do such a thing? Perhaps she is still confused? From her injuries?」

「I do not believe she is being serious,」Mitsuhide said thoughtfully, 「but… her injuries are not merely the result of rescuing Lord Nobunaga. There are… marks. Marks that suggest a different kind of violence. Perhaps she has come to… expect it.」

Hideyoshi sighed, his face etched with concern.「Perhaps we should give her some time, my lord? She is… clearly shaken. We can ask her our questions later, once Ieyasu has examined her.」 Hideyoshi’s tone was soft, a suggestion, almost a request, as he looked at Nobunaga. They exchanged glances, a silent pause as if they were considering something. 

Nobunaga seemed hesitant, maybe annoyed, but he eventually nodded, 「Very well. I’ll allow it, for now.」

Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and a man stormed in, his face a mask of thunderous irritation. He was slightly shorter than the others, with a mess of blond hair and piercing green eyes that crackled with barely suppressed anger. He was a force, an interruption, a sharp jolt to the already chaotic scene.

Oh, God, not more of them. 

He launched into a rapid-fire torrent of Japanese, his voice sharp and clipped, 「What is going on here? And what is this girl doing in my quarters?」

It was Mitsunari who responded, his voice soft and placating as he gestured vaguely towards her, 「Lady Ness requires a doctor, Lord Ieyasu. She was injured at Honno-ji.」

Mitsunari’s sweet voice and angelic smile seemed to make the newcomer’s irritation flare even further. He glanced at her, a quick flick of sharp green eyes, before he looked back towards the men as if he was dismissing her very presence. 「So you dragged her here from Kyoto and expect me to heal her?」the blond man grumbled, 「This is not a battlefield, men. And I don’t treat girls.」

Mitsuhide’s ever-present smile faded until it was but a hint, 「Ieyasu, if you only…」

Before he could continue, Nobunaga sighed, his expression unusually serious. Mitsuhide paused, his mouth snapping shut, as if all it took was one sigh from the carnelian-eyed man who quietly dominated all around him.  「Ieyasu,」Nobunaga spoke, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable weight of authority, 「this is not just any girl. She saved my life. And I trust no other physician with her care. Is that understood?」

The blond man’s eyes narrowed, his hands clenching at his sides. He took a sharp, almost imperceptible breath, as if suppressing a sigh of frustration. He held Nobunaga’s gaze for a beat, then looked away, his response silent.

「Her injuries are… significant,」Mitsuhide added in a measured voice. 「And your experience on the battlefield, with wounds most physicians have never encountered, makes you precisely the person she needs.」   Mitsuhide paused, letting his words sink in, then added with a touch of… amusement, 「Unless you would prefer I take her to someone less… capable ?」

The newcomer made a soft noise that sounded almost like a growl, then his gaze snapped to her, his eyes narrowing. He took a few steps closer, his expression a mixture of annoyance and impatience. He crouched down before her, his movements surprisingly fluid despite his evident displeasure. His green eyes, sharp and intelligent, studied her face, and then he reached out. Ness flinched back instinctively, her body tensing, the sudden movement sending a jolt of pain through her arm.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide said softly, “this is Tokugawa Ieyasu. He is the doctor we have been waiting for.”

This guy’s the doctor? Seriously? 

She sighed, a whisper of breath, “Grumpy, even less craic than the rest of you… yeah, that checks out.” 

Ieyasu raised a brow as she spoke, glancing at Mitsuhide. The other man returned an enigmatic smile, amusement glinting in his amber eyes. Then those green eyes returned to her and he reached out again, with a surprisingly gentle touch, to wipe at the grime that streaked her face. Irritation still lingered in his expression, but his hand, so careful, brushed against her cheeks, removing the soot and revealing the pale, almost translucent quality of her skin.

The other men fell silent, their gazes fixed on her with a new intensity. There was a shared flicker of surprise, of something akin to awe, in their eyes. Their reactions, their collective silence, sent a fresh wave of anxiety through Ness. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly, and touched her face. Her fingers traced the outline of her cheekbone, the curve of her jaw. “Is… is my face a mess, too?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her words directed at Mitsuhide. “Is it… bad?”

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes softened slightly as he looked at her, his expression a careful blend of reassurance and something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher. “No, Ness,” he said, his voice low and gentle, “your face is not… a mess. It is… fine.”

Ieyasu’s eyes snapped to Mitsuhide, his irritation returning, his sharp voice demanding, 「What is she saying?」

Mitsuhide responded, his tone carefully neutral, 「She asked if her face was… badly injured, too.」

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed, his gaze returning to her with a new, sharper focus. Before she could react, he reached out and, with a swift, decisive movement, popped open the makeshift closure of her oversized overcoat.

His reaction was subtle, a momentary stillness, a slight tightening of his jaw. But Ness saw it, the almost imperceptible shift in his demeanour, the flicker of something in his eyes that went beyond mere annoyance. He remained crouched in front of her, effectively shielding her from the others’ view, but Ness still felt utterly exposed, a raw nerve laid bare. She looked away in shame, her gaze fixed on the floor, the world blurring at the edges. No. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry, Ness.

After a moment, Ieyasu carefully closed her coat, his movements now deliberate and almost tender. He stood up, his face set in a grim expression, and turned to the others, who were quietly conversing amongst themselves. His green eyes blazed with barely contained fury. 「Oh, do continue your pleasant conversation. I see you’ve found the most comfortable seats and are making yourselves at home. I suppose it’s just as well someone is finally getting around to addressing the… medical issue ,」he stated, his voice low and dangerous.

There was silence, for just a moment, and then Ieyasu let out a sigh of frustration as they all stared back at him. He gestured sharply towards the door. 「Out. All of you.」

But then those sharp green eyes flicked to Mitsuhide, holding his gaze for a moment longer than necessary. There was something in that look, something beyond the gruff command. A challenge? A test?  「Not you,」he paused, and she thought she saw something else flickering through that angry gaze, 「You will translate. And you will tell me everything you know about her.」

Mitsuhide’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a mere twitch of amusement. 「Of course, Ieyasu. As always, your demands are… reasonable.」 His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it, a subtle undercurrent that was beyond her understanding. 

Ieyasu snorted, 「Reasonable? If it was up to me, I’d have you thrown out too for bringing this… this mess into my house.」

Mitsuhide chuckled softly, the sound barely audible above the commotion. 「Oh, I am sure you would, Ieyasu. Alas, fate has seen fit to burden us both with this… inconvenience. Unless you believe sign language would suffice for a proper medical examination?」

Ieyasu gave him a sharp look, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned abruptly, his voice filled with authority as his attention turned to the other men. 「Hideyoshi! Find her some clothes. Something clean and warm. Now! Masamune… see to it that something is prepared for her to eat. Light. Simple.」He barked out orders with the efficiency of a seasoned commander, his green eyes focused and determined.

Ness watched with interest as he issued instructions to the other men, each shallow, painful breath catching in her burning chest. They responded with good-natured grumbling and what sounded like light-hearted teasing, most of which seemed to make Ieyasu even more irritable. Seriously, what is this guy’s problem? As the other men filed out, even Nobunaga acquiescing to whatever he was demanding, she was left alone with Ieyasu and Mitsuhide in a moment of blissful silence. It was a relief. Then Ieyasu’s sigh broke the silence, his gaze flicking to her, a hand running through his mess of blond hair. In that brief look her way, she could have sworn that for a moment his expression… softened. Then he turned towards Mitsuhide again.

「What is this, Mitsuhide?」 The irritation in his voice had abruptly vanished, replaced with something that sounded a lot like worry. 「These injuries… the blood is fresh but the bruising on her throat is days old.」

Mitsuhide nodded, his near-permanently amused expression vanishing, his gaze flicking to her for a moment before returning to Ieyasu, 「It’s as I suspected, then.」 

Ieyasu frowned, his voice gruff, 「What do you know?」

「I do not know anything… yet.」 Mitsuhide tilted his head, looking at her again, and she raised a brow in a silent question. A little enlightenment here? It was so unsettling, to be so obviously spoken about, with no idea of what was being said. The white-haired man’s gaze softened, ever so slightly, but he didn’t respond to her silent question.

Another frustrated sigh carried through the silent room, 「And you’re telling me she saved Nobunaga? In that condition?」

「Indeed,」Mitsuhide replied, his tone serious, 「She did.」

「She shouldn’t even be conscious.」Ieyasu’s gaze flicked back to her, as if he was trying to assess something.

「And yet, she is,」Mitsuhide paused, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, 「Impressive, isn’t she? Perhaps she’s more than just a ‘girl’, Ieyasu. Perhaps she’s a… challenge.」

Ieyasu shot him a sharp look, 「A challenge I don’t need. I’ve got enough on my plate without dealing with… this.」 He gestured vaguely at her. 「Tell me what happened. And make it quick. I need to start treating her before she… well.」 

Mitsuhide nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, 「Of course. But I suspect that this is just the beginning of our… challenges with her.」 

Ness watched them, their words a low, incomprehensible hum in her ears. She sensed something in the air, something unspoken between them. A bond, perhaps. A familiarity. A history. As Mitsuhide finished speaking, Ieyasu grunted, but didn’t reply. He was already focused, moving through the room with efficiency and precision, gathering supplies. 

She closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the pain even though each gasping breath only added to it, trying not to think about what was coming. Then the sound of breathing, not hers, steady and even, a rustle of cloth, and she blinked her eyes open. Ieyasu was crouched in front of her, his expression now focused and professional. He looked every bit the doctor, every bit the healer. For a moment, his eyes met hers, and she saw a glimmer of something in their depths - not anger, not irritation, something closer to concern… or maybe apology? 

A soft sigh escaped his lips but his voice was neutral now, almost detached, 「Alright. You’ve got your way, Mitsuhide. Let’s begin.」

Chapter Text

Ness shifted her weight, the silken cushions beneath her doing little to ease the ache in her bones. The walls were paper screens, translucent and fragile, casting soft, diffused light that somehow made her feel even more exposed. Her gaze darted around, latching onto anything that wasn’t the two men before her, observing her with intensity. Gleaming metal glinted on a low table - scalpels, she recognised with a shiver, and a collection of other instruments whose purpose she couldn’t quite decipher. They looked like they belonged in a museum. Were they sterilised? She doubted it. Her eyes skittered away from the tools, landing on a collection of earthenware jars. She squinted, trying to make out the faded labels, as if she might suddenly learn how to read Japanese. Anything, anything was better than meeting their eyes.

Just keep breathing, Ness. It’s just… a check-up. It’s fine. But her body knew better. Her muscles were tense, coiled tight, and a tremor had started deep within her, a quiet, insistent shaking that she couldn’t seem to control. The moment she’d been dreading arrived with a quiet inevitability. Ieyasu gestured carefully, his gaze direct and unwavering.

「The coat must come off,」he stated, his voice low and devoid of emotion, professional, leaving no room for argument.

“He says… that he must undress you now,” Mitsuhide’s quiet voice, translating, as if she didn’t know what he wanted. Hadn’t known what was coming since the moment they’d brought her to this room.

The doctor’s hand reached out, hovering near the buttons of her oversized coat. Ness flinched, pulling back instinctively, but there was nowhere to go. Please. Please, don’t. But she was silent. Her trembling intensified, her body betraying her fear with a violence that shocked her. With slow, deliberate movements, Ieyasu began to unfasten the buttons. The coat was the last barrier, the last shred of protection. As it slid from her shoulders, pooling around her on the floor and revealing the torn, bloodied shirt beneath, she felt utterly, terrifyingly naked. It was all there, laid bare for their scrutiny. Ness felt a wave of shame wash over her, hot and suffocating, so intense it was almost physical. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet their eyes, not wanting to see the way they looked when they saw how… broken she was.

Then Mitsuhide spoke again, his voice lower, an inflection in his tone that suggested a question, 「Her state… it’s worse than we anticipated, isn’t it?」

Ieyasu’s gaze went to her face, then back to Mitsuhide, 「Yes. I will treat her here. Moving her now would be… unwise.」

Ieyasu’s hands were surprisingly gentle as he began to examine her arm, his touch firm but careful. Ness flinched at every movement, each shift of her broken bones sending waves of white-hot pain through her. She gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out, but small whimpers still escaped her lips. 

「And her face…」Mitsuhide paused, his gaze dissecting her as if he was the doctor, 「it is untouched. Rather curious. Considering the rest…」

Something in how he spoke made her skin prickle with unease. Ieyasu paused, glancing at Mitsuhide before he looked back at her face again, lingering for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of… curiosity? Confusion? 

「Not a mark,」Ieyasu observed, his voice clinical. 「No scrapes, no bruising. It’s… inconsistent with the severity of her other injuries.」

Then Ieyasu refocused on her arm, his movements precise and deliberate, and Ness tried to push the strange unease aside. It’s just the pain. It’s making you paranoid. But the feeling lingered, a small, unsettling knot in her stomach, as he continued probing gently at her arm. His hands moved then, and he unwrapped the remnants of her torn shirt before she could do or say anything, exposing the full extent of her injuries. Ness flinched at the cool air against her skin, but also at the vulnerability of being so exposed, her cheeks burning with shame.

A quiet, sharp intake of breath escaped the doctor’s lips as he took in the extent of the damage. The angry swelling around her ribs, the deep bruises, the livid red scratches, the rope marks circling her wrists and ankles - every mark told a story that she didn't want them to read.

Ieyasu’s brow furrowed, that voice low and grave, 「Multiple fractures. Internal bruising. Signs of… prolonged restraint.」

Mitsuhide nodded slowly, studying the patterns of her injuries with narrowed eyes, 「And the distribution. It is… peculiar.」

Ieyasu paused, his gaze meeting Mitsuhide’s for a moment. There was a silent communication between them, a shared understanding, their grim expressions a mirror of each other. 「Yes,」he agreed quietly, then returned to his work. 「The agony she must be enduring… most would be screaming.」

Ness tried to make herself smaller, pulling in on herself. The words were just sounds, but the tone was clear. Something was very wrong. Her skin crawled with a strange mix of fear and shame. Ieyasu’s touch was careful, but it didn’t lessen the feeling of being exposed, of being broken. His expression was a calm mask but she could sense something in his gaze, something that went beyond mere medical observation. It was as if he was trying to understand, to piece together the puzzle of who she was and what had happened to her. Just… get through this. Just… get through this and then… get away. That was her only goal, her only thought.

He sat back, reaching out for the supplies on the table. He picked up a roll of cloth, then a set of wooden splints, and she realised with a jolt that he was going to set her arm first. He spoke rapidly, gestures punctuating his words.

Mitsuhide translated, his voice calm, “He says your arm must be set first. It is the most pressing injury. It will be… painful. But he cannot treat anything else until it is done.”

His translation was understated, but Ness caught the underlying warning. She nodded, her jaw tight. She knew this was coming. The pain in her arm was a constant, throbbing reminder. 

“Will it hurt as bad as… when it was broken?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Mitsuhide passed her question on to Ieyasu, and his response was swift. His detached, professional demeanour didn’t shift but there was a hint of something in those sharp green eyes, something… resigned. 

「It is broken in multiple places. It will be excruciating.」Ieyasu’s words were gruff, almost dismissive.

“He says… perhaps,” Mitsuhide murmured softly.

No. That’s not what he said. That was not a ‘perhaps’ level statement.

“Is that really what he said?” Ness looked between them, suspicion colouring her flat voice, then sighed, “Fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

Ieyasu gestured again, and Mitsuhide explained, “He wishes for me to… hold you. It will make his work easier, and prevent you from… moving.”

Ness’ breath hitched in her throat. Hands on me. Holding me down. Like before. The memory of John’s grip, the weight of his body, flashed through her mind.

“No.” Her answer was sharp, decisive. “I didn’t pass out when he broke it. I don’t plan to now.”

Mitsuhide’s expression remained neutral, but there was a brief flash of something unreadable in that amber gaze before he turned to the doctor. Ieyasu raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his eyes, as if her refusal was entirely unexpected. He exchanged a few more words with Mitsuhide, his words brief and sharp. She had the distinct feeling that he wanted to insist, to overrule her, but after a moment, he nodded. It was the nod of a man giving in against his better judgement. 

“He agrees,” Mitsuhide translated quietly. “But he says you must remain still. For your own good.”

Ness’ gaze dropped, falling on the supplies scattered across the table as Ieyasu quietly prepared the splints and bandages. Her gaze landed on a pile of dried plant stems. She reached out with her good hand and picked one up. It was hard and woody, with a strong, pungent aroma. 

“ Syzygium aromaticum ?” she murmured, the scent of cloves filling her nostrils. 

This isn’t native to Japan. She saw Mitsuhide shrug at Ieyasu, as if he didn’t know how to translate that. She lifted the dried stem to her mouth, and then Ieyasu spoke again, his tone… confused? 

“He says… that will numb your tongue,” Mitsuhide said.

“Yes,” Ness said, her voice tight. “I know. Better than biting it off, though.” 

She placed the stem in her mouth, biting down on it. The sharp, spicy flavour filled her senses, a strange counterpoint to the fear and anticipation. Ieyasu nodded, his expression now all business. He began to manipulate her arm, his touch firm and precise.

Then, it happened. The world exploded in a supernova of agony. Ness cried out, a muffled sound against the clove stem, her body arching against the pain. She clung to consciousness, her teeth grinding on the wood, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the mat. She tried to focus on anything else - the light, the rough feel of the mat, the distant sounds of the city - but there was only pain, a raw, all-consuming fire that threatened to obliterate everything.

She hung on, fighting the encroaching darkness, but it was relentless. The clove stem slipped from her mouth, and a soft moan escaped her. Her vision blurred, and she felt her body begin to slump.

「Mitsuhide! Quick!」

Just as she was about to fall, strong arms encircled her. Mitsuhide wrapped an arm around her from behind, over her good shoulder and across her chest, supporting her weight. Ness slumped back against his chest, her head lolling back onto his shoulder. The position was… horribly familiar. The pain in her arm, the feeling of being held from behind, her head tilted back… it triggered a flood of memories, a rush of terror and despair. It wasn’t Mitsuhide she saw, but John. His face, his cold eyes, his cruel smile.

A soft, broken sound escaped her lips, a whisper lost in the chaos of her mind, “Please… please stop hurting me.”

It wasn’t directed at Mitsuhide, but at the ghost of John, the phantom tormentor who still held her captive in her memories. Ness’ world swam in and out of focus, the edges blurring into a hazy, indistinct gray. The pain in her arm was a relentless tide, pulling her under, and the echoes of John’s voice, his cruel words, were a constant undertow. She tried to fight it, to stay conscious, but the effort was too much. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body limp, and she slipped into the welcoming darkness.

When she woke, the pain in her arm was still there, but it was a dull ache now, a distant throb rather than a searing fire. She was lying on a soft mat, covered with a warm blanket. The air was filled with the faint scent of herbs and something metallic. Blood. Her ribs felt tight, bound, but not painful. She reached down tentatively, feeling the bandages wrapped around her torso. 

Ness’ eyelids fluttered open to dim light, and she saw Ieyasu and Mitsuhide sitting nearby, their voices a low murmur of Japanese. She couldn’t understand the words, but she could sense the gravity of their conversation. Their faces were grim, serious, no trace of either the grumpiness or amusement she’d come to associate with them.

「Her injuries… 」 Ieyasu murmured, his voice low and serious. 「There is something else. Something she is not saying.」

Mitsuhide looked thoughtful. 「Torture leaves marks that are not visible, Ieyasu. And there is… the other possibility.」

The doctor hesitated, 「The… injury to her honour? Do we ask? I have never… dealt with such a thing.」

「If we are to help her, then it is necessary to know,」Mitsuhide spoke with careful consideration. 「But it must be approached with caution. She is… fragile.」

Ieyasu sighed, a sound that seemed to contain both frustration and concern. 「Fragile? She is broken. I will try. But… I may not know what to do.」

A faint smile appeared on Mitsuhide’s face, but it contained no amusement. 「You will do what you always do, Ieyasu. You will try your best.」

Ness listened to their voices, the unfamiliar sounds washing over her, and a sense of unease settled in her stomach. She didn’t understand what they were saying, but she knew they were talking about her. And she knew, with a sinking feeling, that they were discussing something she had no desire to share.

She let out a sigh, carefully pushing herself back into a seated position with her good hand, her ribs protesting with every movement. By the time she looked up they were both in front of her again, Ieyasu’s expression calm and clinical, Mitsuhide’s as unreadable as always.

“How are you feeling?” Mitsuhide asked softly.

Ness groaned, “Just… disappointed to still be alive?”

“You must be in a lot of pain, Ness.” His voice was sympathetic, though he stated the obvious that they all already knew.

“Well, I don't feel like I’m being repeatedly set on fire anymore, so…” she allowed herself an almost inaudible sigh, “progress, I guess.”

Mitsuhide quirked a brow, amusement flashing through his eyes, and soft laughter erupted from his lips for just a moment, “Masamune was right about you.”

“When he said I was… uneasy?” she asked, confused. I know he didn’t say that.

“No,” Mitsuhide’s amusement seemed to increase, as if he knew what she was thinking, “When he said you have a dark sense of humour.”

Just how much have you been talking about me? I guess I’m the entertainment of the hour, huh? Ieyasu ignored their conversation, seemingly unbothered by Mitsuhide’s failure to translate it. Instead, he gently pulled her good hand outwards, and began to clean and treat the minor cuts he found there. The balm he used had a faint, almost grassy scent, but she couldn’t place it. As he worked, Mitsuhide translated his instructions and explanations, his voice calm and reassuring. 

After a while, Ieyasu paused, those sharp, green eyes meeting hers. There was something in that gaze - something uncomfortable but determined. Please don’t ask what I think you’re going to ask. He spoke quietly, and silence followed for what felt like an eternity.

“He asks about… other injuries,” Mitsuhide translated softly, an almost-hesitant note in his voice. “Injuries… of a different kind.”

Ness’ breath hitched in her throat. No. Not that. Anything but that. A flash of memory, sharp and painful, pierced through her attempt at composure: the cold, sterile light of the room, the sound of a lock clicking shut, the weight of his gaze on her. Not the physical pain, but the violation, the utter helplessness. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to push the image away, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave. Another memory surfaced: his voice, low and cruel, whispering words that made her skin crawl, words that stripped her of her dignity. She felt a phantom touch, a ghost of his hand on her skin, and a shiver of revulsion ran through her.

“I’m not having this conversation with either of you,” she said, her voice sharp and decisive, cutting off the tide of memory.

Ieyasu listened intently to Mitsuhide’s quiet translation, his expression calm and unreadable. When Mitsuhide finished, Ieyasu spoke, his voice low, 「That was not a denial.」

Mitsuhide nodded, that knowing gaze meeting Ieyasu’s. 「No… it was not.」

Ieyasu’s sharp, green eyes flicked back to her, a hint of something akin to concern in their depths, though his tone remained firm and steady.  「Very well,」 he stated, the words carrying an undeniable authority.  「But if you change your mind, if there is anything you need, you will tell me.」 There was a fierce intensity in his eyes, as if he were daring her to challenge him, yet also commanding her to reveal everything.  

Mitsuhide’s translation came softly, with a subtle persuasive lilt, “He says that you can confide in him, if you reconsider, Ness.”

Confide in him? she thought bitterly, her throat tightening. And you, too, I suppose? Her gaze slid away, fixing on a distant corner of the room, and she swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in her throat. Stop it. Stop it now. She berated herself silently. Don’t cry. Don’t give them the satisfaction. She gave a small, tight nod, hoping it conveyed strength rather than the fragile control she was desperately clinging to. 

And then… they didn’t push. Instead, Ieyasu let out an almost inaudible sigh, then gestured towards her legs and feet, speaking again. The clinical, detached doctor had returned.

Mitsuhide translated quietly, his tone cautious, as if he expected another rebuff, “He wishes to treat your legs and feet now… if you’re comfortable with that, Ness?”

Ness felt a wave of relief wash over her. They were letting it go, for now.  “Yes,” she said, her voice softer. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Ieyasu moved with practised efficiency, briskly pushing the blanket up her legs, but careful to afford her as much modesty as he could. She didn’t want to look, but the sight pulled her in - the colours across her thighs were muted, dark purples bleeding into grays and yellows. The edges were soft and blurred, but the shapes were still distinct, still recognisable. For a moment, everything went blank. No, Ness. Focus.

She fixed her gaze on Ieyasu as he worked, watching every movement closely. But still, the sight of his hands, the advanced warning of where he would touch… it didn’t help. He examined the cuts and bruises, his touch gentle, and she couldn’t stop the involuntary flinch that came with each graze of his warm fingers.

His calm expression remained detached as he cleaned the wounds.  He applied the salve that smelled like damp grass on the morning air, and finally, carefully bandaged the deeper cuts.

He spoke to Mitsuhide in a low voice, a crease in his forehead. 「I am worried about internal damage. But… I am not as skilled with women’s bodies. My knowledge is limited and her silence does not help me.」

Mitsuhide nodded, his expression thoughtful. 「Perhaps with time she will trust us enough to tell us more.」

「Time. We may not have time.」 Ieyasu sighed, frustration evident in his eyes. 「If there is something wrong inside… it could worsen quickly.」

He looked back at her, his gaze intense. Ness held herself still. For a moment, he looked like he was about to start barking orders at her. Then he reached out to flick the blanket back over her legs, and stood up abruptly. 「We can’t put her in front of Nobunaga like this.」

He turned on his heel and crossed the room, his treatment abruptly completed without acknowledgement or warning, and began to rifle through a stack of scrolls. His posture was rigid, his movements slow and unhurried.

Mitsuhide looked towards the door, his expression thoughtful.  「They won’t wait much longer, Ieyasu,」 Mitsuhide said quietly, breaking the silence. 「Lord Nobunaga has been patient, but his patience has its limits.」

Ieyasu grunted, not looking up from the scroll that his sharp gaze was carefully scanning.  「I know that.」

「And delaying further will only make him more… insistent.」

「I’m aware of that too, Mitsuhide.」 Ieyasu’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration. He rolled up the scroll with a snap. 「But she is too broken to talk.」

A smile appeared on Mitsuhide’s face, a subtle, knowing smile, 「Your concern for her is admirable, Ieyasu-」

「I am concerned about wasting Nobunaga’s time,」Ieyasu interrupted, his expression growing slightly more irritated.

「Can it not be both?」 Mitsuhide countered, his tone mild but probing. 「Perhaps both. But we need to know what she knows.」

Ieyasu let out an exasperated sigh, hand tugging through his hair for just a moment. 「I know. I know.」

「Perhaps I should remind you,」 Mitsuhide gently offered, his smile twitching with amusement, 「that this apparently… broken woman saved Lord Nobunaga with a single hand.」

「I am not deaf, Mitsuhide. I heard the initial report.」 Ieyasu’s voice was gruff but steady, and he let out a long sigh. 「But I deal with what’s in front of me. She is not ready.」

「Then perhaps a gentler approach is needed,」 Mitsuhide suggested, a flicker of something knowing in his eyes. 「A chance to… prepare herself?」

Ieyasu paused, considering whatever Mitsuhide had said, then nodded slowly. In that moment, she could have sworn that she saw the subtlest hint of a smile surface on his face. 「I assume Hideyoshi sent half of Azuchi castle for her to wear?」

Mitsuhide nodded, his smile widening. 「Our dear Hideyoshi is as predictable as ever.」

「Then…」 Ieyasu left his scroll down, his movements somehow calmer and more… deliberate than before. 「Go find Mai. To assist her.」

Mitsuhide quirked a brow, that smile remaining, then gave the gentlest bow of his head. 「Of course, Ieyasu. I will inform Lord Nobunaga that you have finished your treatment, and Ness will need… some time to get dressed.」

Mitsuhide moved towards the door, his movements as fluid and graceful as ever. But he stopped, hand on the paper screen, and turned back. He fixed Ness with an almost conspiratorial smile, a flicker of genuine amusement in his amber eyes. “I will retrieve somebody… experienced. To help you prepare and dress.”

Experienced? Ness sighed on the inside, irritation prickling at her skin. Right. Experienced in dealing with a woman who looks like she just crawled out of a warzone? She knew she’d have to face them, the warlords, all those intense gazes and the pressure to explain. But right now? She just wanted to collapse into a heap and sleep for a week. She closed her eyes, the ache in her arm a dull, constant reminder of her current predicament.

“I hope she’s experienced in amputation,” Ness said, her voice dry, eyes still closed. She imagined the poor woman’s reaction, the widening eyes and the polite, but utterly horrified, smile. 

Mitsuhide laughed, a soft, genuine sound that echoed in the room. It was a warm sound, not mocking, but filled with genuine amusement. His voice, careful and precise, quietly followed. The words hung in the air for a moment. Ness cracked her eyelids open, peering from beneath her eyelashes. Mitsuhide’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked at Ieyasu. The lord’s usually composed face was a picture of stunned silence, his mouth slightly agape. 

“Do try not to scare Ieyasu too much more while I’m gone,” Mitsuhide added, his voice still light, but with a hint of challenge. He gave her a quick, almost imperceptible nod. Then, with a final, sweeping glance at both of them, he strode off with purpose, sliding the door shut behind him.

An awkward silence descended. Ieyasu remained standing, his expression still a touch irritable, his gaze fixed on some point beyond Ness’ head. She shifted slightly under the blanket. The air was cool against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine and reminding her of just how undressed she was. What now?

Chapter Text

The silence stretched, heavy and thick. Ness shifted again, even the soft blanket sore against her skin. She tried to ignore the dull ache in her arm, the persistent throbbing in her ribs. Ieyasu remained fixed, not looking at her, and every tiny motion she made felt like a tsunami in the stillness.

“This is getting kind of awkward,” Ness blurted out, her voice rougher than she intended. “I guess… bedside manners aren’t really a thing, yet?”

His eyes flicked to her, narrowing slightly. He stared at her for a beat, then said gruffly, 「Don’t waste your breath. Save your voice for Nobunaga.」

“That… answers that, I suppose,” Ness murmured, glancing away. Definitely not a thing.

Ieyasu let out a soft, low rumble of irritation. 「You know I don’t understand you, right?」 He raised a hand, cutting her off before she could reply. He said something quickly, his tone sharp, his gaze dropping to her bandaged chest before returning to her face. The message was clear: Do not speak.

Then he moved towards her with a calm, deliberate step. He adjusted a couple of cushions behind her back, propping her up more comfortably, and he tucked the edge of the blanket more securely around her, ensuring she was properly covered. His touch was brief, almost clinical, but there was a warmth in it that she hadn’t expected.

Just as another awkward silence threatened, a sudden commotion erupted in the corridor outside. Voices, loud and overlapping, rose in a flurry of rapid Japanese. It sounded like a heated debate, or perhaps a mild argument. Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, and he let out an exasperated sigh. The noise in the corridor grew louder, punctuated by a sharp laugh and a muttered curse. Ieyasu ignored it, pointedly, but eventually, he muttered something under his breath and rolled his eyes. He strode towards the door and slid it open. The cacophony from the corridor burst into the room, and Ieyasu stepped out, closing the door firmly behind him.

She barely had time to let her eyes wander around the room, quickly scanning for exits, before the screen slid open again, this time revealing Mitsuhide. He was followed into the room by a stern-faced woman with a no-nonsense demeanour, graying hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her sharp eyes darted around the room and when they alighted on her, they grew wide, and her lips pursed into a tight line. 

“Ness,” Mitsuhide began, his voice gentle. “This is Mai. I mentioned I would find someone to assist you? She is very skilled in such matters and will ensure you are well taken care of.”

Surprise flashed over the older woman’s face for just a moment. Mai glanced up at Mitsuhide carefully, a silent question in her expression.

「This is Lady Ness, Mai.」 Mitsuhide’s tone was calm, as if he was reassuring the old lady. 「She requires your assistance. Please be gentle. She does not speak our language.」

「Lord Mitsuhide,」 she began, her voice low and respectful but with an undercurrent of alarm, 「surely the lady… surely she will require more than just my assistance? Her state…」 She trailed off, shaking her head slightly. 「She is in a state.」

Mitsuhide’s expression hardened, his voice holding just a hint of firmness. 「She requires only you. And your discretion.」

Mai’s eyes widened further, and she bowed deeply. 「As you command, Lord Mitsuhide.」 But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something wary, when his expression shifted.

Then Mitsuhide’s expression softened, and he made a small, apologetic bow, his tone almost regretful. 「Lord Ieyasu has requested that Lady Ness be prepared to meet Lord Nobunaga. He wishes her to be… presentable.」

The old lady huffed, gesturing towards Ness, her eyes filled with concern. 「Presentable? Lord Ieyasu should know better. This poor child needs rest, not… to be paraded about in courtly attire.」

The door slid open again and Ieyasu emerged from behind Mitsuhide, fixing the old lady with a steady gaze. 「She must meet with Lord Nobunaga, Mai. Choose something from the garments Lord Hideyoshi has provided.」 He gestured towards the doorway, where a veritable mountain of clothing had appeared, a chaotic pile of silk and brocade that nearly reached Ness’ height.

「Lord Hideyoshi… he is certainly thorough,」 Mai murmured, a hint of exasperation in her voice. She sighed, then turned back to Ieyasu, her expression firm. 「With respect, Lord Ieyasu, she should be in a night kimono. She is injured, dazed, and…」

Ieyasu cut her off with a sharp gesture. 「She must be dressed, Mai. Choose something appropriate. Something that will accommodate her injuries.」 He paused, those sharp green eyes meeting those of the old lady, as if he was telling her something more with that gaze.

Mai’s eyes narrowed slightly, and understanding seemed to dawn in them. 「As you command, Lord Ieyasu.」

Mitsuhide smiled smoothly. 「We trust you implicitly, Mai.」 With a final bow, he slipped out of the room.

Mai watched him go, her expression still concerned. She then turned to Ieyasu again, her gaze appraising. 「I will attend to the lady, Lord Ieyasu. But I expect you to… behave with propriety.」

Ieyasu raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. 「I assure you, Mai, I am perfectly capable of behaving myself.」He turned his back slowly, deliberately, his steps measured and purposeful as he walked towards a low table across the room. With a quiet sigh, he dropped to his knees, the sound barely audible. He reached across the table and pulled a scroll towards himself, his fingers moving with practised ease. Then, he bowed his head over his work, the gesture one of complete concentration, and settled into his silent task.

Mai approached her slowly, her steps hesitant. The old lady clucked softly, a sympathetic sound, and crouched down beside her. Her hands hovered in the air for a moment before slowly touching her good arm.「My poor child, what have they done to you?」 Ness didn’t understand the softly murmured words, but she understood the tone. Her voice was soft with compassion, her concern clear in the gentle touch of her hand. 「Don’t be afraid now. You are safe in this house with us.」

Then Mai reached carefully for the blanket. Ness looked away, bracing herself for the inevitable reaction. As expected, a sharp intake of breath, a soft gasp, escaped Mai’s lips. Ness didn’t dare look at her. Instead, her eyes fixed on Ieyasu’s still back, the smooth fabric of his kimono stretched taut across his shoulders. She saw his hand, which had been reaching for another scroll, stop. It paused, suspended in the air, for perhaps a heartbeat, before he deliberately continued his movement, pulling the scroll towards himself. He bowed his head again, his posture still, composed, as if nothing had happened.

Mai dipped a cloth into a basin of water, her movements steady and gentle. Like she could startle me. The old lady drew her face gently towards her, her expression soft, and began to murmur soothingly as she wiped the cloth over her cheeks. The water was warm, the gentle caress of soft cloth so kind, that it was… too much. Too helpless, too vulnerable… almost unbearable. Ness felt a lump form in her throat, a sudden unexpected ache behind her eyes. 

Then Mai faltered, the soft warmth of the cloth pressed against her cheek, and something like an awed understanding swept over her expression. 「Oh, my lady… is that what happened to you? Did you frighten someone with that unearthly beauty?」 The old lady’s eyes narrowed, soft with compassion and sorrow, but there was a hint of something… strange. 「People don’t always like what they don’t understand. It’s not right, of course, but that’s how it is sometimes.」 The soft murmur of Mai’s voice, though she couldn’t understand the words, resonated with a deep, palpable concern that threatened to unravel her carefully constructed defenses.

「Enough, Mai.」 Ieyasu’s voice was quiet and steady, but it held a natural authority that carried through the room.

Ness’ eyes flicked to him again. He had not moved but there was a rigidity to that still posture. A command given with just a couple of words and a slight shift of the body. It was all that was needed. 

Mai’s eyes widened slightly and she dipped her head in a low bow. 「Please forgive me, my lady. I know you don’t understand but that was… too forward.」

Mai helped her to her feet with care, her demeanour subdued. Ness took a deep breath, forgetting, until the pain burned through her chest, what a bad idea that was. She winced, the noise hissing through the air. Her eyes found Ieyasu again. He remained at the low table, his head still bowed over his work, and he very deliberately did not look up. But there was the briefest pause in the movement of his hand across the scroll. You noticed that. How much else are you noticing? She had the feeling he was aware of everything. You’re just very good at pretending you’re not.

Mai turned to the pile of clothing, her experienced eyes quickly assessing the options. She pulled out a crisp, white underlayer, something simple and practical. She carefully helped her into it, gently manoeuvring her injured arm into the sleeve. Then, she began to search for an over-kimono. She discounted all the brightly coloured, heavily embroidered garments, her gaze settling on a luxurious material in a deep, ocean-blue hue. She slipped Ness’ good arm into one sleeve, then draped the kimono over her shoulders, leaving the other sleeve empty. 

As Mai adjusted the kimono on her shoulders, Ness’ gaze drifted down to the fabric. The deep blue was rich and almost hypnotic. There was a very subtle pattern. Tiny flowers, a shade or two darker than the base colour, repeated across the cloth. They were so faint, they were almost invisible unless you looked closely. Ness squinted, trying to make out the design. Are those… quince flowers? They were highly stylised, but she thought she recognised the distinctive shape.  

Then, Mai tied the obi sash in a way that supported her arm in its sling but also emphasised it. Ness’ eyes fixed to the older lady’s face and suddenly she had the sense that she should have been paying more attention. What are you up to, old lady? 

She looked down at herself, the bandages peeking through her collar, the bruised throat. Ness felt a spark of anger at the thought that was beginning to form. Her hand reached up to her uncovered throat, and she gestured meaningfully, maintaining eye contact with Mai as she made her point. Mai gave no response, but her eyes went to Ieyasu’s motionless figure for the briefest moment. Ness examined that broad, still back, the calm, soothing motions of his hands. What is this? Some kind of… twisted tactic? Remind them to have pity on the broken doll? The spark of anger ignited and she had to take a moment, hold herself still, hold it in.

With her final touches complete, Mai stepped away. Ness touched her bare head, then looked at Mai, a question in her eyes. At least give me this. She gestured deliberately at her shorn scalp and made a wrapping motion. Mai’s expression softened with understanding. She murmured something in Japanese, then turned and crossed the room.

She bowed to Ieyasu’s deliberately turned back. As if he hasn’t seen everything already. Mai spoke to Ieyasu in a low voice. Ness watched them, trying to analyse the exchange. She tried to read Ieyasu’s body language, but his back was an unreadable wall of perfect posture. He simply sat in silence after Mai had spoken.

Then, without a word, Ieyasu moved. He reached up and untied the scarf from around his neck. He held it out to Mai, not even glancing in her direction. His movements were abrupt, almost curt. His expression was decidedly irritated, as if he were annoyed at himself for giving in.

「Here,」 he grumbled, his voice low and gruff. 「Use this.」

Mai accepted the scarf with a respectful bow, and returned to Ness. It was a beautiful piece of cloth, bronze silk with intricate and delicate embroidery, the colour gleaming like burnished copper in the evening light. She gently wrapped the scarf around Ness’ head, covering her shaved scalp. The silk was still warm from him wearing it, a sensation that felt strangely intimate. It was a beautiful scarf. But it was his . And he had offered it with an air of reluctance, as if he were being forced to reveal more than he intended. She was grateful, of course, but also… deeply uneasy. Why his scarf? Why not any other? It was too deliberate. It felt like more than just kindness. If it was just that then… why would he be so annoyed? It almost feels like a statement.

The old lady held the polished bronze mirror up before she could stop her. The reflection was of a stranger dressed in fine dark-blue silk: haunted, ocean-blue eyes staring from a pale face. Her eyes flicked away, and she held up her hand. Mai made a soft noise, then quietly returned the mirror to its place and began to bustle about, tidying the pile of clothes with brisk efficiency.

Her mind drifted, the quiet hum of activity in the room fading into a dull background noise. There was just a void, a void filled with exhaustion. 

Then, a voice, soft and clear, cut through the fog in her mind. 「Ieyasu.」

Ness blinked, coming back to herself. She hadn’t even heard the door slide open. A tall figure stood just inside the room, the light from the corridor behind him casting his face in shadow. It was Mitsuhide. Which means it’s time. Time to… oh, God, what do I tell these guys?

Ieyasu set a scroll down with a soft thud, then straightened his back and rose to his feet in one easy motion. He turned towards Mitsuhide, before his gaze flicked past him, settling on her. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something that almost looked like… surprise? It was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual composure, but his gaze lingered, somehow a different look than the one he usually gave her. It was… broader. It took in her whole appearance, from the rich blue silk of the kimono to his bronze scarf wrapped around her head.  

Ness touched her hand to the warm, silken scarf, the barely-there delicacy of the embroidery grazing her fingertips. Is he having second thoughts about giving me this? She met those sharp eyes, trying to glean something. There was a subtle shift in his posture, and then he looked away. He looked almost… uncomfortable.

Mitsuhide slid the door shut with a soft thud, the softest laughter drifting through the room for just a moment. 「It’s the eyes, isn’t it? Like staring into the depths of the ocean.」 He turned towards her, quietly assessing her for a long moment. She studied his face, trying to gauge him. He seemed genuinely thoughtful, his gaze steady and appraising.

「If the ocean stared back.」 Ieyasu’s voice was flat, but his eyes grew sharp, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.

Mitsuhide gave a slight shrug, a movement he managed to make both elegant and deliberate. 「It’s an arresting appearance. She’s like a creature from a tale. Lord Nobunaga will be…」 he paused, his gaze moving to Ieyasu, 「very interested, won’t he? The questions will be fascinating.」

「Questions? Or gathering… intelligence?」 Ieyasu mused aloud, his eyes never leaving Mitsuhide’s. The last word was delivered slowly, deliberately, almost like an accusation disguised as a question.

「Well… perhaps I will bravely test how deep the waters go.」 Mitsuhide’s smile widened, and there was a subtle lift of one eyebrow. Then his gaze flicked from Ieyasu back to her.

「Perhaps we could just get on with it.」 Ieyasu’s voice was steady but there was an edge to his tone, a hint of annoyance. 「Ask her if she’s ready.」

A moment of silence stretched between them, the air thick with unspoken questions and observations. Then, Mitsuhide shifted slightly, his posture changing, a subtle signal that the conversation was moving on. The gaze that rested on her now was less appraising, softer.

“Are you ready, Ness?” he asked, that soft voice carrying an underlying seriousness. 

Ness took a pause, then let out an almost inaudible sigh. “Forgive me if I’m reading this incorrectly, but…“ she looked between the two of them with a careful gaze, “does that matter?”

Ieyasu listened to Mitsuhide’s translation with an unreadable expression on his face. Those sharp green eyes went to Mitsuhide, held his gaze for a moment, something silent moving between them.

Mitsuhide’s gentle smile faded slightly, that amber gaze returning to her with a serious focus. “And you understand what is needed?”

I guess that answers that question.

“The assassin. Naturally,” Ness replied, her tone dry. “I mean, what else would I be discussing with a… warlord? Is that the proper term? I don’t want to be rude. Especially when I’m talking to a… significant power figure?”

Mitsuhide laughed, a soft, genuine sound that echoed in the room, followed by a translation of her words that sounded… delighted. Ness’ gaze was fixed on Ieyasu, who stared back with a confusing mix of surprise and… something else. Something Mitsuhide found utterly hilarious, whatever it was.

Then, with a final, almost imperceptible nod, Mitsuhide slid open the door. The quiet calm of the room was instantly shattered by a sudden surge of noise from outside. Voices, loud and overlapping, filled the air. It was them. The warlords. And she still didn’t know what she was going to tell them, but now… she was out of time.

Chapter Text

Hideyoshi and Mitsunari were the only two men to enter. But suddenly, Ieyasu’s spacious quarters had a distinctly smaller feel. It was something about the way the air shifted around these men, the way they all had voices that carried with authority as they entered the room with boisterous laughter, and a sense of easy camaraderie. Well, this is… unexpected. It was not at all the atmosphere she’d anticipated for an interrogation.

Hideyoshi clapped a hand on Ieyasu’s shoulder, his smile wide and teasing. 「Honestly, Ieyasu, I started composing a haiku about waiting, and it turned into an epic poem.」

Ieyasu let out a long-suffering sigh. 「If you have so little patience, perhaps you should have sent less clothing.」

「I do hope, Hideyoshi, that you left some for the rest of Azuchi castle.」 Mitsuhide’s smile was sharp, but his tone was lightly teasing. 「I fear we might have depleted their entire wardrobe.」

「She needed clothes!」 Hideyoshi’s posture was defensive, his tone of voice almost injured. 「And I wanted her to have the…」 His voice trailed off as he turned into the room and that warm brown gaze alighted on her. Then his eyes widened, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Mitsunari followed Hideyoshi’s gaze, his usually placid expression replaced by one of blinking, wide-eyed… fascination? He tilted his head slightly, those purple eyes fixed on her in a confused, but intent, study. As if he was trying to define her and failing. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

Then the door slid open with a flourish, revealing Nobunaga. He was already speaking, but he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on her. He took her in silently, assessing her, then his gaze met hers. Those eyes. The warm, soft lamplight of Ieyasu’s quarters almost gave them that red glow again. And he’s just as inscrutable as the devil would be. A slow smile spread across his face, a smile that held both intrigue and a hint of something predatory. 「I see now why she was hidden so well,」 he murmured, his voice low. 「A rare find indeed. I wonder what other treasures my saviour conceals?」

As if his words stirred something in Hideyoshi, he started deliberately towards her, a soft, concerned, and faintly guilty expression on his face. 「Please forgive our lack of decorum, Lady Ness. You must be tired. Let’s get you settled and…」

You’re going to touch me again, aren’t you? She knew it with certainty, could see it in every guilty dart of his eyes. She tried to warn him off politely with her face but he didn’t seem to be taking the hint. She was just contemplating how inappropriate it would be for her to slap him when long, elegant fingers clamped on to Hideyoshi’s shoulder.

「Now, Hideyoshi, I know how difficult it is for you to restrain your impulses.」 Mitsuhide’s voice was gently cutting, with an undercurrent of amusement. 「But I assure you that Lady Ness is being fussed over quite adequately by our favourite physician.」

An aggrieved look came over Hideyoshi’s face as Mitsuhide politely steered him off course. 「There is no way that Ieyasu is being nice enough to her. The poor girl is probably scared half to death by his-」

「By my what, Hideyoshi?」 Ieyasu’s irritated voice came from above her right shoulder, close enough to just prickle her with the sensation of her space being invaded. 「My professionalism and skill?」

「They just saved you from a stinging cheek, Hideyoshi.」 Nobunaga’s low, authoritative voice rolled through the room, amusement lacing every word. 「And she is far more forceful than one might expect.」

Hideyoshi’s jaw literally dropped, his mouth opening so wide that she could practically see his tonsils. Then he stared at her, those light brown eyes wide with… horror, as if she’d just kicked a puppy. I definitely would have remembered that. Ness let out a sigh, her eyes flicking to Mitsuhide’s face. He looked very entertained. She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I could have a little help here? Or am I supposed to just guess?”

“Hideyoshi has just learned that you… struck Lord Nobunaga?” Mitsuhide’s amused answer had the subtlest intonation of a question, his amber eyes gleaming and smile wide.

“Oh. Yes. Twice, actually.” She looked back at Hideyoshi, that horrified gaze staring at her, and frowned. “It wasn’t my first option, if that helps? I did try shaking him before resorting to violence.”

Mitsuhide struggled to provide a translation, his own laughter slowing down his efforts. Hideyoshi just stared, his mouth moving, but no sound emerging. A ripple of laughter went through the group, and Ness realised, with a jolt, that they weren’t here to intimidate her, not in the way she had initially feared. They were… relaxed. As if they were all old friends catching up, and she was simply the latest topic of conversation.

The realisation brought a release of some tension, and with it all the willpower that had been keeping her so firmly upright wavered with a soft, tight gasp. Wow, easy Ness. She caught herself, pulled her muscles tight as they burned with the effort, and took a long, shallow breath. Focus. We haven’t even started yet. But she felt like she’d already been standing up for a century. Or two… or three? Oh, God. Would it be weird to ask what year it is?

「Sit down, all of you, and stop being… yourselves.」 Ieyasu’s sharp tone sliced through the jovial chatter, his gesture impatient. 「You’re giving me a headache.」

「You’re working too hard, Ieyasu. You need to take better care of yourself and…」 Hideyoshi immediately launched into what appeared to be a patient, earnest lecture. But all of the men, grumbling good-naturedly, began to settle onto floor cushions and get comfortable. 

「You.」 Suddenly, Ieyasu was looking intently at her with those sharp green eyes, crackling with irritation. 「Why are you just standing there? Are you hoping to collapse into the correct position?」

His expression was calm with just a faint undertone of annoyance. He spoke to her like he expected her to both understand and follow… whatever his order was. But his hand, when it gently wrapped around her good arm, was careful - the pressure enough to steer her but not force her. She let him draw her through the room, each step measured and carefully calibrated to fit her stride. Yet she could have sworn he was muttering under his breath, words that were quick and irritated and… chastising?

“Um… Mitsuhide?” Ness glanced across at the white-haired man as he settled onto the floor, reclining with an almost studied elegance. “He has that look on his face.”

“He says that you must rest, Ness. You are pushing yourself too hard.”

Ness raised a sceptical eyebrow as Ieyasu urged her to kneel and began to prop some cushions up behind her, each movement performed with that clinical, brisk precision that always seemed to be underlaid with a current of irritation. “He didn’t say it like that, did he?”

“Well… that was the gist of it.” Mitsuhide chuckled softly, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement.

Ness narrowed her eyes, her head throbbing. “How odd.” She spoke softly, her voice a low, faintly displeased murmur. “From my perspective, the ‘gist’ appears to be that I am an intolerable irritation who may be distinctly lacking in intelligence.”

Mitsuhide’s smile widened for just a moment. “He… has a unique way of expressing his concern.”

“Unique?” Ness asked, keeping her voice deceptively light, almost curious. “Is that why you’re having such difficulty with the translation?”

Mitsuhide arched one perfect white eyebrow, that smile lightened by a hint of… delight? “Well, Ieyasu’s particular brand of eloquence can be challenging to convey with perfect accuracy. There are always subtleties that can get… lost in translation.”

Is that how we’re describing it? Her gaze flicked to Ieyasu. He was already settling onto a cushion, surprisingly close to her. Too close, maybe. He’d placed her directly across from Mitsuhide, as if they were flanking her, cutting off her escape routes. Deliberate? Or just me being paranoid? She couldn’t quite decipher the look in his sharp green eyes, but there was a definite intensity there. He seemed completely absorbed in making himself comfortable, but Ness couldn’t shake the feeling that he was acutely aware of her every move. With every slight motion, trying to find comfort, she had to suppress a wince. Her ribs throbbed, the painful consequences of the effort of standing. Wait… his unique way? She recalled that sharp, almost irritated tone, the way he’d seemed so impatient. Was that… was that why he snapped at me? Why he suddenly started ordering everyone about? His expression told her nothing.  

Mitsuhide watched them both, his smile still present, but with an added layer of something else - curiosity, perhaps? Or amusement at the subtle game he was playing? Ness rubbed her temple, feeling a headache building. Just what have I gotten myself into?

The others continued chatting and laughing, the atmosphere relaxed and familial. Just as the conversation around her was reaching a crescendo, the screen door slid open with a more dramatic flair than before, revealing what she thought was Masamune. It was hard to be certain. He carried a stack of trays high enough to cover his face, but he manoeuvred into the room as if he wasn’t working blind.

「Ah, perfect timing, Masamune,」 Hideyoshi stood, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. 「Let me help you with that.」

「Our stray kitten looked in dire need of… sustenance.」 Masamune’s words ended on a soft, surprised note as Hideyoshi relieved him of his burden and that single, blue eye landed on her. His grin grew wide, even as his eye narrowed in appraisal, and he took a long pause. 「 This is what lay beneath all that scratching and hissing?」

He took a couple of steps closer to her, his gaze direct and appraising. He wasn’t leering, but he was definitely taking her in - he was unashamed to assess her with open admiration. You’re a bold one, aren’t you?

「You have eyes like the depths of the ocean, little bird. And skin like moonlight.」 Masamune’s voice was clear, as direct as his gaze, though there was a subtle softening of that grin. 「Have you come to lead us all astray with your charms?」

Well… that was a masterclass in delivering a line. She didn’t know what he’d said, but the meaning, the intent, was clear in the rich, low rumble of laughter that followed. He delivered it with class, his body language totally assured. Ness couldn’t help the flicker of amusement. She saw Mitsuhide raise an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming, but he didn’t offer any assistance. I’m back to guessing, huh?

Hideyoshi’s laughter was bright, but his tone was soft and admonishing. 「Masamune, you’ll scare her! She’s been through enough. She’s still recovering.」

Masamune waved a dismissive hand in Hideyoshi’s direction, his eye focused on her. 「She’s not afraid of me. I can see it in her eyes.」 He leaned closer to her. 「We don’t intimidate you, do we?」

Ness met that intent gaze thoughtfully. The admiration was still there but something else now, too - genuine curiosity and a keen intelligence.

Then Mitsuhide spoke up softly, that voice neutral but underpinned with just a hint of amusement. “Masamune said that you have eyes like the depths of the ocean and skin like moonlight. He also asked if you’ve come to lead us astray with your charms.”

She’d known that the line was a masterclass, but the full-on poetry of it was so over-the-top, so wonderfully, ridiculously dramatic, that Ness couldn’t help it. A laugh burst out of her, a surprised, almost delighted sound. It was cut short a moment later by a sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs. “Oh, Christ.” She sucked in a shallow breath, composing herself. “Please don’t make me laugh. It’s actually very painful.”

Masamune winced dramatically as Mitsuhide’s amused voice translated, placing a hand over his heart as if struck by an arrow. Then, his expression shifted and he threw his head back in unrestrained, booming laughter. 「Such sharp words from such a beautiful mouth!」

「And such lovely laughter.」 Mitsunari’s soft voice drifted to her ear, his smile gentle, but something like mischief danced in those striking eyes as he frowned just slightly. 「Though, that is not the usual way that ladies act when Lord Masamune is kind to them.」

「Indeed, Mitsunari.」 Mitsuhide’s voice was smooth, a subtle smile playing on his lips. 「One might say his charm is… legendary. Though perhaps not always with the desired effect.」 He looked at her, then back at Masamune, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

A gentle snort came from next to her, Ieyasu’s voice gruff, 「Legendary for repelling women, maybe.」

Masamune’s grin didn’t once falter. 「Repelling? I’m just testing her mettle」

「Or perhaps you simply met your match, Masamune.」 A slow smile spread across Nobunaga’s face. 「A woman who sees through your bluster and responds with… refreshing candor.」

Another ripple of laughter went through the group. Masamune gave a light shrug, then he picked a tray off the top of his stack, bowing to her with an exaggerated flourish. 

The food was beautifully arranged, a testament to the culinary skill and attention to detail of the cook. The aroma was intoxicating, a mix of savory and sweet, spicy and tangy. Ness’ stomach rumbled involuntarily, a sound that was surely loud enough to be heard by every man in the room. For a moment, she almost felt light-headed.

Then Ieyasu’s hand intercepted the saviour of her stomach and took possession of the tray. Are you fucking kidding me? She blinked, fixing her gaze to his face. He stared back with those sharp green eyes, a quick, almost measured study, then looked at Mitsuhide. 「She looks like she’s about to swallow the tray whole.」

There was a flicker of a frown on Mitsuhide’s face. That gentle smile faded just slightly and the eyes that settled on her face took on a serious gleam. “Ieyasu wishes to know when you last had food, Ness?”

Ness hesitated, tempted to lie, but they were both looking at her with such intent focus. She let out an almost inaudible sigh. “That rather depends on your definition, but…” she paused, considering, then gave a light shrug, “a day or two? Plus however long it’s been since I met you guys.”

Ieyasu gave a brusque, quick nod. His hands began working, removing items from the tray with brisk, efficient movements. His voice was calm and measured, no hint of irritation, just the return of his clinical detachment as he spoke firmly.

“He says that you must eat slowly. Your body is not ready for so much food at once.” Mitsuhide provided the translation in a measured, neutral tone. “You can have more later.”

Ness had to stop herself before she said something really impolite. She nodded, and somehow restrained herself from rolling her eyes as Ieyasu placed the seriously depleted tray in front of her. She reached out with her good hand and picked up an onigiri. Slowly, Ness. Unless you want him to take the food out of your hand, as well? She took a careful bite, the sweet-sour taste of pickled plum filling her senses. It was the best thing she’d ever eaten. But Ness knew that the easy camaraderie, the shared meal, it was all a prelude to something more. They were drawing her in, making her feel comfortable, and then… then they would ask their questions. 

She was quietly waiting when Nobunaga subtly cleared his throat. An immediate hush fell over the room. The playful banter ceased, the laughter died down, and all eyes turned to him. The smile was gone, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity. His carnelian eyes, which had been gleaming with amusement moments before, now held a piercing quality, as if they could see right through her.

「Enough with the pleasantries,」 he said, his voice low and even, but carrying an unmistakable weight of authority. 「We have indulged in Masamune’s excellent cooking, and we have allowed our guest a moment to recover. But now, we must address the matter at hand.」

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The relaxed camaraderie evaporated, replaced by a palpable tension. The other warlords shifted in their seats, their expressions becoming serious. The brief moment of comfort, of normality, was over.

Nobunaga’s gaze lingered on her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. He wasn’t looking at her with curiosity anymore. He was assessing her, analysing her. Ness’ heart began to pound in her chest, a frantic drumbeat against her throbbing ribs. Time travel. Even talking to these guys is risky. Who knows what mess I’ve already made? She had almost forgotten the gravity of her situation. But now, Nobunaga’s gaze brought it all crashing back.

This is it. This is where it starts. This is where I have to explain. But how? What do I say? The panic began to rise, a cold wave threatening to overwhelm her. She had to be careful. Every word, every gesture, could have unforeseen consequences.

Nobunaga leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. 「Tell us, Princess,」 he said, his voice now sharp and direct, 「tell us everything you know about the fire.」

“He says, ‘Please tell us what you know about the fire, Princess,’” Mitsuhide translated smoothly.

Princess. The word hit her like a physical blow, a phantom echo of John’s cruel mockery. Her breath hitched. How could he…? But then, with a sharp, internal shake, she banished the thought. He can’t possibly know. It was just a name, a misunderstanding. “Why is he calling me that?” she asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

Mitsuhide arched one perfect, white eyebrow. “You mentioned a ‘King’ earlier.” 

I don’t remember telling him that.  

“And your brothers…” Mitsuhide continued, not waiting for a response, “you seemed concerned about them. Are they also… royalty?”

Ness’ mind conjured a vivid image of her four hulking, tattooed brothers, each sporting a ridiculously oversized crown, more like Viking warlords than charming princes. Another genuine, if pained, laugh burst from her lips. “Oh, God,” she took a breath, her smile amused. “Sorry. Just picturing my brothers in crowns.” It was a slip, she knew, but denying their existence was pointless. They existed. They were a force of nature. “We don’t,” she paused, her tone turning serious, “...we don’t do things that way.” She stopped abruptly, her mind suddenly racing. If I mention voting, will they think I’m insane? Was there anything like that back then? Back now? The absurdity of the situation was starting to overwhelm her.

“Like I already said, you can just call me Ness.” She hesitated, a quick, shallow breath to collect herself, and quietly redirected him back to his questions. They felt safer, somehow, with less possibility of accidentally introducing democracy to a bunch of sword-wielding warlords. “As to what I know about the fire… I don’t really know anything about the fire itself.”

“You don’t know anything?” Mitsuhide sounded faintly sceptical, that gaze focused on her intently even though his diplomatic smile remained.

“Nothing useful. I don’t know… when, or where, or how the fire started.”

“Then you do not know who started the fire?”

“I don’t even know if somebody started it.” Ness let out a faint sigh as she got the easy part out of the way. Now comes the fun. “When I woke up, everything was already burning.”

“I see. You were a guest at the temple then, Ness? Seeking… sanctuary, perhaps?”

“No. I don’t think so?” Ness stopped, trying to figure out the best way to tackle this. She saw his gaze flicker with sudden interest, which wasn’t surprising considering the answer she’d given him. She sighed internally. Focus, Ness. What are we doing here? They can check this, I’m guessing. So, let’s go with honesty… to a point. “That’s another thing I don’t know, you see. I don’t know how I got there.”

“You don’t know?” Mitsuhide’s voice held a faintly puzzled tone, those amber eyes narrowing subtly. “Then what is the last thing you remember?”

“Hmm. I was…” Ness paused, closing her eyes for a moment as if she was trying to recall, but really she was just trying to think of the right words. “I was running. It was dark. The scenery was unfamiliar. Everything was foggy, but I… had to keep moving. And then… the world dissolved.”

「Well, if she was foolish enough to run in that condition, it’s not surprising she lost consciousness,」 Ieyasu’s steady but faintly irritated murmur met Mitsuhide’s translation.

Mitsunari made a soft, thoughtful noise and tilted his head. 「Perhaps somebody found her injured on the road and brought her to the monks?」

Mitsuhide’s thoughtful gaze never left her face. “So you woke up and the fire had already started? Then you left your room and…?”

Ness had to suppress the sigh, because this next part was bound to cause consternation. But I don’t think it’s wise to pretend I was staying there. “I didn’t wake up in a room. I woke up on the balcony.”

There was a brief moment of silence. Then Mitsuhide offered a translation to the other men, and stunned expressions lit up most of their faces in a ripple. Mitsuhide watched her intently, then quietly asked, “On the… balcony?”

“Yes. On his balcony.” Her gaze went to Nobunaga for just a brief moment. Those eyes were fixed on her but she couldn’t read any reaction. She looked back at Mitsuhide. “Assuming that was his room, of course.”

「How interesting.」 Mitsunari stared at her for a long moment, those striking eyes still friendly but his gaze much more intent. 「Perhaps they are using her as a form of… assault on Lord Nobunaga’s reputation?」

Hideyoshi bristled with indignation. 「That’s… despicable. How could anybody-」   

Nobunaga flicked his eyes in Hideyoshi’s direction, his expression calm, and the other man stopped mid-sentence. Then his gaze returned to her. 

Mitsuhide took a moment, carefully watching her face, before he spoke again. “Take me through it from the beginning, Ness. You woke up on the balcony…?”

“I woke up on the balcony.” She repeated the words calmly. They were the truth, after all. But they were a truth she needed to get past quickly. “To be honest… it took longer than I’d care to admit before I realised it was on fire. I was rather… preoccupied. It wasn’t until I smelled the smoke.”

There was a subtle flicker in Mitsuhide’s eyes but that diplomatic facade was basically unreadable. “What happened then?”

“Once I realised that everything around me was burning, I knew I had to get up, but… moving was difficult. Then I heard… a noise. A… voice? Words but… I can’t tell you what he said. It’s not like I heard them, more like I just… registered it, I guess?” Ness paused, shifting her weight, trying to ignore her discomfort and the sheer overpowering attention of all of their gazes. “When I looked, I saw two men in the room. One on the ground, the other standing over him with… a weapon?”

“What kind of weapon did he wield, Ness?”

“Well… I’m somewhat lacking in experience. I thought it was a sword but… it was… long? I almost want to say it was a staff but there was definitely a metallic glint.” Ness closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall the details, but she hadn’t really looked very closely. She had been too focused on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not certain.”

Mitsuhide made a soft, almost reassuring noise, his tone calm and encouraging. “Don’t worry, Ness. Just tell me what you do remember.”

“He had the weapon raised, like he was about to… so, I called out to him.” She paused, closing her eyes again, visualising the scene. Heat. Red light. Smoke. “It wasn’t very loud. But he stopped and he… looked right at me. I… asked him what he was doing. He didn’t answer but… I’ve only just realised that he probably didn’t understand me?”

“That seems likely, yes.” Mitsuhide agreed with her quietly then fell into silence again, watching her with those focused eyes.

“It took me a minute to get up. Once I had… he had already disappeared.” There had been so much smoke and fire, and she’d been so intent on just trying to stand. She’d lost track of him in the chaos. “I entered the room and… well, I was worried he was dead for a minute. But he came around.” Her eyes went to Nobunaga again, those fierce carnelian eyes staring right back, and she let out a dark, soft laugh. “I’ll admit, I did wonder if I was in hell for a moment.”

“In… hell?” Mitsuhide said the word with uncertainty, as if he wasn’t quite sure what she was referring to.

“As in, eternal damnation? Fire? Brimstone? Endless torment?” She waved her good hand dismissively, letting out an almost inaudible sigh. “It sounds foolish, I know. But the possibility that I had died was… not zero.” She paused, regretting those words immediately when she saw the way his eyes narrowed. “And… that’s it. You know the rest.”

Then, Nobunaga shifted, leaning forward just slightly. That commanding gaze met hers, his voice low and filled with authority. 「Describe the assassin. In detail.」

“Lord Nobunaga would like you to describe the man you saw.” Mitsuhide’s calm voice translated Nobunaga’s words as far less commanding than she suspected they were.

I can describe him. The question is… should I? Ness paused, considering her options. My words could be easily misinterpreted, couldn’t they? She examined Mitsuhide’s patient gaze, keenly aware that he might just give them the gist of it again. She needed them all to know, and she needed it to be accurate. If I’m going to be honest, it needs to be correct. Otherwise… they won’t trust me. 

“Could I… have some paper?” she asked, her voice holding a note of quiet confidence that she didn’t really feel.

A beat of silence followed, the warlords exchanging glances. She hadn’t expected that to be such a strange request given they were requesting a description. This feels like I’ve miscalculated something and now it’s too late. 

Mitsuhide tilted his head just slightly, a hint of something quizzical in his diplomatic mask. “Paper?”

“Paper,” Ness said firmly, then added quickly, “And… perhaps charcoal? Or… chalk?”

Mitsuhide considered her request, then nodded slowly. “I believe we can find something.” He turned to Ieyasu, speaking rapidly. Ieyasu grunted, his expression irritated, but nodded. Then Mitsuhide stood up, padding across the floor on silent feet, and slipped past the screen that separated Ieyasu’s study - bedroom? Both? - from the rest.

Ness started to shift her weight, attempting to rise to her feet. But before she could even move, Ieyasu’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. 

「Stay where you are.」

Ness paused, looking at him. His jaw was tight, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He had a hand out, as if to steady her or restrain her, she wasn’t sure. She let out a sigh. “I… I need a table. Something to draw on.”

“Is that what you’re up to?” Mitsuhide’s voice came from beyond the screen, a note of curiosity entwined with his obvious amusement. 「She requires a table.」

Masamune stood up, his usual grin in place. 「A table it is, then.」 He strode over to a low table in the corner of the room and effortlessly lifted it. Then he carted it back to her and set it down gently in front of her with a bow. 「I hope this will be to your liking, your highness.」

Ness tried not to roll her eyes at the teasing, mildly flirtatious tone of whatever line he was giving her now, and managed a small smile instead. “Thank you.”

Mitsuhide returned a few moments later, carrying a piece of paper and a small box. He set them down on the table in front of her, opening the box to reveal several sticks of charcoal. “Will these do?” His soft voice still held that note of curiosity, but that gaze was anything but soft.

“Yes. These are… perfect.” Ness nodded, her voice soft, distracted, her fingers itching to start.

She let her fingers roll over the charcoal in the box until she found just the right one. The rough texture grounded her, bringing her back to the present, though her bandaged fingers felt the sensation less keenly. Just… just another thing to work around, Ness. Just a few cuts.

The room fell silent, all eyes on her. She could feel their gazes, their curiosity, their bewilderment. But she tried to block it all out, to focus on the task at hand. She closed her eyes, picturing the assassin’s face in her mind. She saw the square chin, the broad shoulders, the straight nose, the almost noble features. She saw the close-cropped hair, like a monk’s, austere and severe. She saw the eyes. Were they cold? No… not that. Something else. Anger?

Then, she opened her eyes, and she began to draw. Her hand moved across the paper with the confidence of experience, the charcoal leaving dark, smudged lines in its wake. She started with the basic outline of the face, the angles of the jaw, the slope of the forehead. The features emerged on the paper in quick, precise strokes, instinctive, her memory guiding her hand.

She added details, shading, bringing the face to life. She captured the set of the mouth, the line of the brow, the glint in the eyes, the likeness unfolding as she teased out the subtle nuances of his face. She worked with a focused intensity, lost in the process, almost forgetting the men who were watching her. 

She felt the charcoal crumble beneath her fingers, the dust smudging her pristine white bandages with shadows. The motion was natural, almost second nature to her. The smell of the dust, the weight of the charcoal in her hand - it all grounded her in the moment.

Finally, she paused, sitting back slightly to assess her work. Hello, again. The face on the paper was almost complete. It was him, the assassin, captured in charcoal and shadow. The austere features, the air of quiet menace, and the eyes. Grief. That was what his eyes held. It was all there. Well… not quite all.

Ness carefully selected another piece of charcoal, thicker, somehow darker. Then, with a decisive movement, she drew a bold, jagged line across the face, from temple to cheekbone. The scar. The defining feature. The one that made him unforgettable.

She placed the charcoal down on the table with a soft click, a sound that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. Ness looked up, meeting the gazes of the warlords. Their expressions were no longer curious or fascinated. They were… stunned.

She looked down, traced the outline of the scar with her finger, ignoring the lingering ache from sitting still for so long. “I’m out of practice with portraits these days,” she murmured softly, “but this should be enough. He’s quite… distinctive.”

Hideyoshi stared at the drawing, eyes widened, and a low gasp escaped his lips. Mitsunari peered over Hideyoshi’s shoulder, his usual gentle smile replaced by a look of grim realisation. Masamune was utterly silent, his single eye fixed on the drawing with unwavering intensity.

Nobunaga leaned forward, reaching out slowly and carefully picking up the drawing. His brow furrowed in concentration as he studied it intently. Then a smile spread across Nobunaga’s face, though it was so fierce that it was hardly deserving of the name. 「This is… fascinating.」 His voice was a low murmur, containing a touch of something that was almost reverent. 「It’s as if that vengeful abbot could step out of the page to challenge me.」

「It’s more than just a likeness,」 Hideyoshi breathed the words, astonishment evident on his face. 「I can almost hear him breathing.」

「The former Abbot of Hongan-Ji,」 Mitsuhide spoke up in a calm and measured voice, a subtle smile playing on his lips. 「He has been in seclusion for some time now.」

「Seclusion?」 Nobunaga’s voice dripped with disdain. 「Or biding his time, plotting in the shadows?」 He looked back at the drawing, his eyes narrowed. 「He’ll regret it, of course.」

Suddenly, the warlords were talking over each other, their voices rising in urgency and determination. Ness watched them, trying to decipher the meaning behind the words, the emotions in their faces. It was becoming increasingly clear that her drawing had struck a nerve. This was something significant, something they recognised. 

Hideyoshi began issuing orders, his friendly demeanour replaced by a sharp, commanding presence. Mitsunari listened intently, nodding occasionally and offering his own suggestions. Nobunaga sat as still as a predator, his brow furrowed in thought. Masamune and Ieyasu were deep in an intense conversation that seemed friendly and irritable on both sides.

She felt strangely detached from it all. Her drawing had done its job. It had given them what they needed. But, more importantly, it had also shifted the focus away from her, at least for a moment. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a brief respite. The pain in her arm throbbed, her ribs ached, and exhaustion pulled at the edges of her consciousness. Just breathe, Ness. Just keep breathing. The voices around her faded into a low hum, a background noise to the storm of thoughts raging in her mind.

After a while, there was a lull. She cracked her eyelids open just enough to watch Hideyoshi and Mitsunari bid their farewells before they slipped out the door. Nobunaga still held the drawing, turning it over and over in his hands, his gaze fixed on the charcoal figure. Then he left it down on the table again, though those fierce carnelian eyes continued their detailed study.

Masamune reached out and touched the paper tentatively, as if testing its substance. He seemed almost wary, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. 「It’s unsettling,」 he finally admitted, his voice low and thoughtful. 「Like looking at a ghost.」

Ieyasu leaned forward, his green eyes sharp and assessing. 「It’s accurate,」 he stated flatly, his voice holding a note of clinical observation. 「The proportions, the details, the… scar.」 Those eyes seemed to flick towards Nobunaga for just a heartbeat. 「She captured every nuance. It’s as if she was staring into his face only moments ago.」 He turned to Mitsuhide, his gaze questioning.

Mitsuhide tilted his head just slightly, that gaze carefully assessing her. “Ness, Ieyasu wishes to know how you can recall so much detail after such a brief… meeting.”

“I have an eye for faces,” she murmured softly. Her gaze went to Ieyasu, those bright green eyes observing her with a hint of skepticism. “It… fades with time, though. If you’d asked me in a few weeks, I probably wouldn’t have remembered him. But right now… it’s clear.”

「You forget them?」 Masamune’s playful voice sounded confused, or maybe it was a touch of doubt. That one fierce blue eye narrowed slightly.

Ness tilted her head as Mitsuhide translated. “Not exactly. It’s all… still in there.” She raised her good hand, waving vaguely at her head. “If I meet somebody again, I’ll recall where I know them from.”

A beat of silence followed. Then, Mitsuhide shifted, his posture becoming more relaxed, but his gaze remained intently focused on her. “Probably?” he began, his voice soft, “You said that you ‘probably’ wouldn’t have remembered him?”

“Well…” Ness hesitated, and then shrugged lightly, sending a throb through her torso. “There are exceptions. And it was a rather… unique situation.”

“I agree, Ness. This is a unique situation.” Mitsuhide’s voice was still soft, almost gentle, but she could sense it now. The end of my respite. “Perhaps we should have a further conversation about that. If you’re feeling well enough?”

Ness felt a knot tighten in her stomach. There it is. A conversation. She had made it through the eyewitness report without doing too much damage to history, she hoped. But now, now it was time for the real interrogation, the questions she’d been dreading and hoping they wouldn’t ask. It was moving from what she witnessed, to who she was. The brief respite, the moment to breathe… was over.

Chapter Text

Ness had known the fragile bubble of silence couldn’t last. That moment, when their focus had moved from her, the world outside those paper screens momentarily fading away - it had been a brief, stolen solace. A delusion. She’d almost allowed herself to believe it was safety, a foolish notion that vanished as quickly as it came. Mitsuhide’s soft voice, the gentleness that seemed to cloak his words, was a veneer, a carefully crafted mask. She knew, with certainty, that this conversation would not be a conversation. 

“A conversation, is it?” Ness arched a brow, shifting, the movement sending a subtle throb of pain through her arm. It was a stark reminder of her current predicament. 

So much for the distraction. Oh God, I’m not ready for this. For the gentle inquiries, the observations, the examination by these men. That, more than the physical pain, the discomfort, or being lost in translation, was what truly scraped at the raw edges of her nerves. 

Her eyes flicked to Ieyasu, beside her. The doctor’s green eyes were now fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach churn. Is your gentle touch a tool too? Designed to chip away at my defenses? Maybe it was working. That thought made her want to curl in on herself, hide, disappear. But hiding was no longer an option. 

Mitsuhide sat opposite her, his amber eyes studying her with an almost unsettling intensity, but his smile remained gentle, almost reassuring. He cleared his throat, his voice soft and even, like the rustle of silk, “Perhaps you could tell us a little about how you arrived here, Ness?”

Ness cast her eyes around the room again, assessing the remaining men, her gaze moving carefully from one to the next. Nobunaga leaned nonchalantly nearby, his gaze sharp and assessing, his expression faintly… imperious. Masamune lounged casually, a playful glint in the eye that was fixed on her with a new focus. Her eyes returned to Mitsuhide. She arched her brow, putting an innocent expression on her face. Just imagine Duke is lecturing you, Ness.

“I was brought here on a horse by four strangers with swords,” she paused, letting a hint of a smile touch her lips. “But you already know that. You were there.”

That gentle smile didn’t falter but Mitsuhide’s gaze narrowed just slightly, “And what an enlightening journey that was.”

Ness met his gaze, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible. She wasn’t blind to the way he’d subtly emphasised that. So that’s how you know all the things you know. Not above using my delusional ramblings against me, huh?  She scrambled to recall the haphazard training her brothers had given her. Maintain composure. Gather intelligence. Identify… shit, Baron, this is so much easier to remember when I’m not actually being interrogated. And you were definitely imagining a cop and not… a samurai? Warlord? She shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but it was impossible. Every inch of her ached.

“How did you arrive in our land, Ness?” Mitsuhide rephrased his question, leaving no room for interpretation. 

Well, your lordship, apparently it was some kind of… time storm. She almost let a laugh through, the idea was so absurd. So… a ship? No, what if they ask which one? But how else could I get here? “Is there more than one way?” She kept her voice light, neutral, as if his question was so self-evident as to not be worth answering. Play it innocent, Ness.

Mitsuhide shrugged, a motion that Ness noted was almost too elegant. “Are you one of the Nanban then?”

Ness frowned, the unfamiliar word catching her off guard. “ Nanban ? I don’t know that word.”

“Traders. From beyond the known lands.” Mitsuhide’s eyes glimmered with a hint of something she couldn’t quite place. “They come by the Southern Seas, we are told. The ‘Southern Barbarians’ who bring curiosities in their great ships.”

Beyond the known lands? Southern Seas? Barbarians? So, he means… Her mind raced, trying to remember details from all the boring documentaries Prince had made her sit though. Shit, I didn’t know there’d be a quiz. Barbarians. What does that mean? It sounds vaguely insulting… but also… exotic?

“You mean… the Portuguese?” Ness asked, trying to hide her uncertainty. “Or the Spanish, perhaps? I know of them, but I’m not…”

Mitsuhide’s smile remained, patient and probing. “Then… you are in a religious order? A… missionary?”

“You think I’m a nun?” She let out a short, genuine laugh before she could stop herself, the wince following immediately. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

Mitsuhide’s gaze flicked to the scarf on her head, a silent question in his eyes. He shifted slightly, his posture still relaxed, but the underlying intent was clear. He was persistent. And she was starting to think that she’d seriously misread him. That gentle smile - it’s not real, is it?

“What,” he tilted his head slightly, his amber eyes holding hers with an unnerving calm, “is the purpose of your journey, Ness?”

Ness raised an eyebrow, meeting that inquiring gaze head-on. “Can the journey not be the purpose?”

Mitsuhide chuckled softly, a sound that held more than just amusement. “A kind of pilgrimage, then?” he mused. “A search for enlightenment, perhaps? Or a penance for some transgression?”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” She murmured the words, the half-formed prayer, almost unconsciously. With her good hand, Ness flicked a quick, casual sign of the cross in the air - more habit than reverence, a gesture ingrained by years of childhood masses. “More of a penance kind of religion,” she added, her tone amused. “Lots of guilt.”

Ieyasu’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. Nobunaga watched her with an almost clinical curiosity. Masamune, however, seemed faintly amused, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Mitsuhide frowned, that smile softening into concern. “Whoever allowed you to undertake such a journey should indeed feel guilt. Were your family not concerned for your safety?”

Ness burst into a short, sharp laugh. Guilt, huh? Oh, I’d pay good money to see you say that to Duke’s face. The thought brought more laughter, a burst of pain, but it was worth it for that image. She saw what he was doing now, the angle he was working. Permission. He wants to know who let me go.

“Oh, you’re serious?” she said, shaking her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Last I checked, I wasn’t a child to be chaperoned.”

“Then surely, you have… other obligations? Ties that would normally keep one closer to home?”

Ness blinked. Other obligations? What’s he getting at? Taxes? Chores? A cat? He was being so roundabout, so… vague. Ties… closer to home… He watched her, patiently, that faint, almost imperceptible smile still playing on his lips. And then, it clicked - amusement swirled within her. He thinks I need my husband’s permission. Or… someone like that.

“Like… a husband?” She took care over the word, as if it was unfamiliar to her, her smile widening into something bordering on mischievous. “Is that how you do things? I see.”

Nobunaga let out a low chuckle, a sound that was more amused than offended. Ieyasu remained impassive, but she heard the faintest rustle of cloth as he shifted subtly.

“It’s just me. Apparently, I’m…” She paused thoughtfully, softly murmuring to herself. “No. No, I can’t say that in polite company. Let’s go with… difficult?”

「’Difficult’, she says?」 Ieyasu let out a short, sharp sound that might have been a laugh, a hint of resignation in his voice. 「How could anyone ever arrive at such a conclusion?」

Mitsuhide’s eyes flicked to Ieyasu for just a moment, a subtle twitch of that diplomatic smile, a knowing edge. He glanced back at her, his expression neutral, but there was a hint of something else - amusement? resignation? - in his eyes. “Just you.” That smooth voice lingered on the words, as if he was testing the meaning. “A young woman travelling by herself? Is that truly the case?”

Well, that’s just fucking rude.

Ness managed to hold on to her smile, just. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to ask a lady about her age?”

Something flickered in his eyes, for just a moment - amusement, or maybe confusion. The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity. His smile remained, but his eyes sharpened slightly, like a fox sensing prey. He tilted his head, his voice still gentle but with a new undercurrent of precision, “When did you come here, Ness?”

The question hung in the air, seemingly innocuous, yet Ness felt a sudden chill. When? Her mind raced, scrambling to calculate. Tokyo… three days… then John… how long? Days blurred into a nightmarish haze. She hesitated, her eyes flicking down to her bandaged arm, then back up to Mitsuhide. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Just… give him something vague.

“I…” she hesitated, trying to keep her voice steady. “A while ago.”

Mitsuhide’s gaze didn’t waver, and that gentle smile remained, but now it felt more like a trap than a comfort. “A while ago,” he repeated softly. “Could you be more specific?”

Ness swallowed hard, her mind still racing. A week? Maybe ten days? How long was I with him? It was like trying to snatch at a half-remembered dream.  

“I… I’m not sure exactly,” she admitted, her voice barely a murmur. “A week, maybe? Maybe a bit more?”

As soon as the words were out, she wanted to snatch them back. They sounded weak, uncertain, revealing. A week? What if it was longer? What if it was shorter? What have I just done? Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding Mitsuhide’s gaze. She felt exposed, like a child caught in a lie.

Mitsuhide’s expression shifted, the gentle smile fading slightly, replaced by a more focused intensity. “And how did you manage to escape your situation, Ness?”

Escape? The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Did I use that word? She’d been trying so hard to be careful. Ness took a shallow breath, the movement sending a sharp jab of pain through her ribs. “There was… a distraction,” she said, her voice low and cautious.

“A distraction?” Mitsuhide repeated, his amber eyes narrowing slightly.

“Shouting. Noise.” Ness shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though her heart hammered against her ribs. “So I slipped my ropes and…”

“You slipped your ropes?” Mitsuhide’s eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes. “That is no easy task.”

Stop that. Stop giving us away. Ness clenched her bandaged hand into a tight fist, wincing, and took another shallow, painful breath. “It was only one hand,” she murmured, trying to downplay it. “And… desperation is an excellent motivator.”

Mitsuhide paused, his gaze lingering on her clenched fist for a moment before returning to her face. She forced herself to relax her hand, to stretch her fingers out, to at least attempt to appear… unbothered.

“What was the distraction?” he asked again, his voice persistent but still carefully measured.

Ness hesitated, her mind racing. How much do I tell him? How much do I know? The shouting, the chaos, the distant sounds of fighting… it was all a blur. So many gunshots. Maybe… maybe it was Earl?

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging slightly. Her shoulders ached, the muscles tight with tension. “I didn’t go towards it. That would have defeated the purpose.”

“That purpose being…?” Mitsuhide prompted gently, his head tilting slightly to one side, like a curious fox.

Ness took another shallow breath, trying to maintain her composure. Don’t give him anything. Just get through this. “To take advantage of being distracted from,” she said, allowing her voice to hold just a hint of exasperation, “which is the point of a distraction, no?”

A flicker of acknowledgement went through his amber eyes, a shift in his smile. He paused for a moment, a subtle tilt of his head, before his gaze refocused with renewed sharpness. “Tell me, Ness,” he murmured in that calm, interested voice, “What was the reason for your situation? Were you… a hostage?”

She blinked, silent. Mitsuhide simply looked at her, his gaze steady and unwavering. Ness fidgeted, her eyes darting around the room. Tell them nothing. Take it to your grave, if you have to. She cleared her throat, started to speak, hesitated, and fell silent again. The silence stretched, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that you wanted to fill.

Finally, she blurted out, “They… they wanted something.”

Mitsuhide continued to make eye contact, those amber eyes piercing, his expression carefully neutral. Why has he gone from asking me questions to just… looking at me like that?

“Something… I wouldn’t give them,” she added softly, before she could stop herself.

Stop it, Ness! Stop talking! If this was interrogation practice, you’d have just got a big fail from Baron right there! Ness let a small sigh escape. This entire experience was shaping up to be the most exhausting of her life.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow slightly, a silent prompt for more information. She kept her mouth shut, this time. He waited, let the silence draw out, but she forced herself to be still. I’m wise to you, now. Eventually, there was a slightly too-casual tilt of his head, his smile shifting subtly. “What sort of item would warrant such… over-enthusiasm?”

Ness felt a flicker of something hot and sharp ignite in her chest. Over-enthusiasm? Her eyes narrowed, not with panic, but with a slow burn of something like outrage. Her gaze met his, unblinking, her fingers clenching in the silken folds of her kimono. “If I didn’t tell them anything after days of torture, what makes you think a few polite questions will get you anywhere?”

She could feel the weight of Ieyasu’s gaze, sharp and assessing, a silent scrutiny that made her skin prickle. His steady, measured breathing was a constant reminder of his presence. 「Well,」 Ieyasu said, his voice gruff, 「at least she’s finally admitting she’s stubborn. Though, it’s not exactly a revelation.」

Mitsuhide’s lips twitched slightly, a hint of a smile that didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. “Torture?” He murmured, his voice just a soft breath, and for a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered in his amber eyes before his gentle smile returned. “That’s a… strong word.”

His gentle tone, that soft, almost pitying look in his eyes, fueled her simmering anger. He just wants the details. He just wants to know what I know. She drew herself up, the movement stiff and agonising, and met his gaze.

“If you’d prefer an alternative, you could use ‘excruciating’, ‘agonising’, ‘unbearable’, or even ‘unspeakable’,” she said quietly, pronouncing each word with slow, deliberate care. “If those aren’t to your liking, I have more suggestions, but I don’t want to make it harder for you to translate. Do you have that many words for this in your language?”

Mitsuhide’s eyes widened slightly, just for a moment. It was a fleeting flicker of surprise, and it was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual composed demeanour. His translation contained a lot of pauses, as if he was trying to match her words with ones they knew. Ieyasu shifted next to her, a motion that sent a brief, painful shiver of tension through her body, before he settled again without a change to that steady, measured breathing.

There was a brief pause, a moment of silence, and Mitsuhide’s expression softened, his gaze becoming gentle. He shifted slightly, as if relaxing his posture, and his demeanour became almost… concerned. “Ness,” Mitsuhide said softly, “Can you tell us… was it a long time? Or a short time? How long were you there?”

Ness hesitated, her gaze flicking away for a moment. She hadn’t wanted to reveal this. It felt like admitting weakness, like admitting defeat. But she knew he wasn’t going to let it go. You have to give him something, Ness. Something… informative but not.

“I…” Ness paused, considering her exact words, “I lost track after three days.”

Three days. It was longer. Definitely longer. But how much longer? I don’t know.

Mitsuhide’s gaze shifted, his amber eyes meeting those of the doctor sitting next to her. He didn’t say anything, but still, a silent question hung heavy in the air between them.

Ieyasu let out a low grunt, a sound that could have been mistaken for annoyance but seemed to hold a deeper layer of consideration. 「Three days?」 Ieyasu said, his voice low and steady, addressing Mitsuhide. 「No. At least five, judging by the physical evidence. Six or seven, if we assume he didn’t immediately resort to violence.」

「I do not believe we can make that assumption, Ieyasu.」 Mitsuhide murmured a reply, something dark flashing through his gaze for just a moment.

Masamune sat up straighter. His single, fierce blue eye widened slightly, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place crossing his face. Is that horror or… pity? Which is worse? As usual, they were talking about her like she wasn’t even there, she assumed. The thought made her bristle, made the pain sharper.

Nobunaga’s sharp, carnelian eyes assessed her face, and then he spoke up thoughtfully, 「Is she trying to mislead us?」

Ieyasu looked at Nobunaga, his expression unwavering. 「Given our suspicions about what she has experienced, her confusion is… likely genuine.」

Nobunaga’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze shifting back to her face with a new intensity. There was something in that gaze now - a hint of concern mixed with a grim understanding. She turned her gaze back to Mitsuhide. You’re not going to tell me what you all said, are you? 

Mitsuhide remained impassive, his gaze still fixed on her, but there had been a subtle shift in his posture. He watched her with an unnerving intensity. After a moment, he spoke, his voice soft and even, “You seem… uncertain, Ness. About the time, I mean.”

Time… A distant, fractured memory surfaced. At first, there had been a rhythm. His visits. Regular, like the ticking of a cruel clock. During the day, he would come, and it hurt. At night, he came again, and it hurt more. Always more. No, don’t go there. But those were the markers. Days, nights, the cycle. But then… it became erratic. Blurry. Confused. Deliberate? Stop it, Ness. Focus. She pushed the chaos down, slamming the door on the memories, forcing a semblance of calm. 

“Uncertain?” she repeated, her voice low. “Well, there… there were no windows, you see. And the… light… it was always on.”

Ieyasu muttered something under his breath, a short, sharp statement, his tone matter-of-fact, 「So, they wanted her confused. They succeeded, it seems.」

Mitsuhide watched her calmly, his voice gentle and empathetic, “That must have been… disorientating, Ness. It would be incredibly difficult to keep track in those circumstances.”

Ness closed her eyes for just the length of a shallow breath, letting the spike of pain keep her anchored in the present. “I tried, but after a while, it all just… blurred together.”

Mitsuhide paused, as if he was considering his next words carefully, his head slightly tilted to one side. There was an edge to that reassuring smile, one that did nothing to reassure her. “Ness,” he began, his voice gentle but with a note of curiosity, “do you realise… that there isn’t even a scratch on your face?”

Ness frowned, confused by the sudden change in topic. She instinctively reached up, her good hand tentatively tracing the contours of her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheekbone, her jawline, her forehead - skin that was smooth, unbroken. She remembered now, vaguely, the way Ieyasu and Mitsuhide had looked at her earlier, their gazes lingering on her face with such strange expressions. It hadn’t made sense then, but now… a chilling realisation began to dawn.

Masamune, observing intently, spoke up, his single blue eye narrowing, 「Perhaps he was... superstitious? That skin… she's like a doll.」

Ieyasu let out a soft, irritated noise, his steady gaze falling on Masamune. 「If he’d treated her face the way he treated the rest of her, we wouldn’t know what colour her skin is.」

Mitsuhide’s low murmur blended with the deeper tones of Ieyasu’s voice. Occasionally, a sharper interjection from Nobunaga would cut through the flow of words, followed by Masamune’s lower rumble. Ness barely registered the sounds, just the rise and fall of their voices, like waves crashing against the shore of her consciousness. The image of John’s face, so close, so cold, burned into her mind. My face? Why my face?

Her fingers traced the bandages on her arm, the dull ache a constant reminder of the other injuries. She knew they were talking about her, about what had happened to her. She could feel their gazes, assessing, dissecting. But she was too busy trying to… understand. The formula. My face. Why would it matter? It makes no sense.

The dim light of the room seemed to flicker, and for a moment, she was back in that place, the smell of chemicals stinging her nostrils, the sound of the lock clicking shut. Her breath hitched in her throat, lungs burning, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. Focus, Ness. Not just the formula. Something else. Personal. Wait…

The men’s voices continued, a low, steady drone. But it felt distant, unreal. She was trapped in her own mind, unable to escape, tracing the contours of a horrifying realisation.

A message? Is that what I am?

Then, there was a moment of heavy silence - as if they’d exhausted their speculation, but she hadn’t. She was fighting back a wave of nausea, cold sweat slicking the back of her neck, as she forced herself to face it.

A message. For the old man? What does it say? I don’t know. I don’t know but…

And into that silence, a whisper, barely audible, broke free from her lips. “I guess he wanted to make sure they could identify me,” Ness murmured to herself, her tone detached and distant. “There’s no point sending a message if it’s… illegible.”

Her eyes were unfocused, her gaze fixed on some point in the distance, a place that wasn’t really there. This can all… end. Her mind was a void filled only with his voice. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, something charged, attentive, but she felt it only faintly.

「She says,」 Mitsuhide’s carefully neutral voice, murmuring in the distance, 「’I believe he wished to ensure identification was possible. There is no purpose to a message if it cannot be read.’」

That careful cadence, the deliberate precision of his tone - none of it registered. It was the way those words landed in the room, into a silence that was almost chilling, that pulled her back to herself. They were her words. She knew it, in her bones. Her specific, horrifying words. Ness looked up slowly, her eyes widening, and found his impassive expression looking back at her. Oh my fucking God. Did I say that out loud? The realisation was jarring, almost sickening.

She felt a subtle shift beside her. Ieyasu’s steady, measured breathing faltered for a moment, a tiny hitch in the rhythm, before resuming its pace. 「A message?」 he said, his voice low, clipped. 「What message? To whom?」

Ness stared into the calm amber eyes of Mitsuhide - so patient, so intent, so… detached. Her words, so starkly out in the open, pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. Idiot! Fucking idiot! You lost focus! She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, wishing she could take it all back. Focus, Ness. Checklist. Maintain composure. Ignore pain. She forced her eyes open again, and his gaze had not shifted.

Nobunaga’s eyes sharpened, an assessing gaze fixed on her, his posture holding an almost predatory stillness. 「A message that was intended for us?」 He paused, his gaze moving from her to the others. 「Or for someone else?」

「And what kind of message could warrant… this?」 Masamune leaned forward in his seat, his posture rigid, that fierce, blue eye wide and serious now.

Mitsuhide tilted his head just slightly, that gaze analysing every twitch on her face, his expression soft and reassuring. Gather information. Identify weaknesses. Fuck, Baron, I don’t think he has any weaknesses, so what then? His voice, when it came, was soft, almost gentle, but there was a keen edge to it. “A message? A message for who, Ness?”

His question was deceptively simple, but she knew he was fishing, trying to draw out more information. She felt a tremor of irritation, at his… relentless, gentle insistence. No, Ness. Don’t lose your temper. She forced herself to meet his amber gaze, trying to project an air of nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Do you typically read other people’s letters, Mitsuhide?” she asked, her voice a touch sharper than she intended. “That’s a bad habit, you know.”

She immediately wanted to bite her tongue again. To her surprise, there was a faint shift of Mitsuhide's smile, a brief flash of strange amusement tinged with something she couldn’t quite place - danger?

Masamune let out a soft, mirthless chuckle, a low rumbling in his chest, 「She’s got a point, Mitsuhide.」

Ieyasu’s expression remained serious, but there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he was suppressing a smile. Even Nobunaga’s eyes seemed to gleam with a hint of dark humour, though his face remained impassive.

Mitsuhide’s smile widened slightly, “Perhaps I’m simply… curious, little mouse. It’s a trait I value.”

Ness bristled at the nickname, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “Curiosity killed the cat,” she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear. What’s so funny? What did I say?

Mitsuhide’s gaze remained fixed on her. “Is this message for your… family?”

“If so, I guess they won’t be reading it for a while.” She shrugged, ignoring the throb in her ribs so she could make her point, trying to sound dismissive.

“Will your brothers not…” he paused, his voice almost too casual, his eyes sharp, “arrange to retrieve you?”

Well, I guess they could build a time machine and swoop to my rescue, but that seems unlikely. The thought was so absurd that she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “They have their own affairs to attend to.” She kept her tone flat, ignoring the tightening in her throat. “They probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone yet.”

“Such a… pragmatic view of their own sister.” Mitsuhide’s words were thoughtful, but there was a subtle narrowing of his eyes, as if he was watching her for any flicker of deception.

“They’re not…” Ness hesitated, trying to find the right word, “sentimental.” It was a bald-faced lie, and a deeply uncomfortable one. She offered a silent apology to her brothers, wherever they were, her stomach twisting with guilt.

Mitsuhide nodded slowly, as if considering her words. Then, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I recall you mentioning a name, Ness. John. Was that it?”

She hadn’t said that, had she? Not here. Not to them. The name, John, was a void. A blank. Nothing. Ness’ fingers clenched, digging deep, but she felt nothing. Not the scrape of her nails, not the pressure. Just… nothing. Then, a subtle shift beside her. Ieyasu’s steady, measured breathing faltered for a heartbeat before resuming its rhythm. A warmth settled over her hand, a gentle pressure. The contact jolted her back from the void.

It was then that she realised her fingers were not on her own thigh. Ieyasu’s hand covered hers, his face impassive, and her nails… were digging into his leg. The shock of the sight froze her. Then he calmly pulled her fingers free and lifted her hand, turning it over. Her bandaged fingertips were dotted with crimson, all the tiny scratches reopened, like the burst capillaries of a crushed flower petal. A low, irritated grumble rumbled in the doctor’s throat.

Ness snatched her hand back, and forced herself to speak, her voice tight, “We’re done here.”

A very faint trembling ran through her, cold and painful, a tremor she was exerting a lot of willpower to keep in check. Focus. Maintain composure. No… no. We’re beyond that now. Maintain strategic silence? She took a deep breath, a sensation that spread like fire through her, and she tried to keep the pain from her face. Ieyasu’s presence was like a weight beside her. She knew that he was watching her, every wince, every uncomfortable movement.

Mitsuhide’s voice, however, remained unchanged. “Ness, surely we can-”

“This conversation is over,” she repeated, each word spoken clearly and slowly, just to emphasise.

Maintain strategic silence. Prince’s voice echoed in her mind, rumbling and authoritative. No information, Ness. Not a word. Let them fill the void with their own assumptions. Every muscle in her body screamed with the effort of maintaining stillness, of keeping her expression neutral, but she held on. She met his gaze, and she let the pain in her ribs that flared with each breath sharpen her focus, fuel her resolve.

Masamune’s single blue eye narrowed thoughtfully, the expression on his face one of bewilderment. 「The lass is… protecting him?」

Mitsuhide’s gaze remained fixed on her, that unnervingly gentle smile fading from his lips. He paused for the length of a breath, his eyes holding hers, then spoke in a low murmur. 「No, not him.」 He glanced at Masamune then back to her, those intent eyes searching her face. 「I believe that she is… protecting her own interests.」

Nobunaga leaned back, his expression thoughtful, but there was a flicker of impatience in those eyes. 「Her interests are my interests now. And I cannot uphold them if she witholds information. I assume she does not understand this?」

She listened to their discussion, cataloguing their voices, their tones, their shifts in posture. No information. Not a word. But she was never good at this. The waiting, the holding back, the letting them think they were in control. Baron could do it. Prince was a master. Duke could even manage it, with his infuriatingly serene patience. But Earl… oh, God, please don’t make me channel Earl.

Mitsuhide paused, as if he was recalculating, then trying a different approach. His smile shifted, became subtly reassuring. “Lord Nobunaga has offered you his protection. If your safety is… threatened, then we have a duty-”

“Protection?” Ness cut him off, her gaze whipping around the room, taking in the warlords bristling with weapons, the air thick with unspoken power. She held her voice steady, injecting a note of curiosity into it. “Is that what this is? Just to be clear, I can walk out whenever I want, right?”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken truths. Earl’s voice echoed in her head, his mischievious laughter. Don’t let them set the terms, Ness. You set them. She watched their reactions openly. Ieyasu’s expression hardened, and even Masamune’s usual playful demeanour seemed to fade. Nobunaga remained impassive, but his eyes were sharp, assessing.

Mitsuhide’s smile was gone, replaced by a look of careful consideration. “Ness,” he began, his voice measured, “your situation is delicate. There are those who would seek to… exploit you. For your own safety, it is best that you remain here, under our protection.”

Why should you explain anything? Make them explain themselves to you. She threw the rulebook out the window and resigned herself to whatever madness would come along with Earl’s way of doing things.

“Remain here?” Ness repeated, her voice carrying just a hint of displeasure. “As in… I’m not allowed to leave?”

“We would not phrase it in such a way,” Mitsuhide said smoothly, but there was a definite edge to his tone now. “However, we must consider your current state. You are not in a position to make informed decisions about your safety.”

“How considerate,” Ness scoffed, allowing a bitter laugh to escape her lips. “But your careful phrasing doesn’t change the reality, does it?”

Ieyasu sat stiffly, his eyes narrowed, watching her with an intense, scrutinising gaze that felt just as exposing as Mitsuhide’s. Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff, a low rumble that cut through the silence, 「Go on then. See how far you get. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.」 He muttered under his breath, irritable, almost inaudible, 「I assume I’ll be expected to pick up the pieces again.」

“Ieyasu is concerned for your health, Ness,” Mitsuhide murmured, a soft, reassuring tone. “He believes that moving about would be detrimental to your well-being at this time.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, her voice low, trembling with fury though she tried to suppress it. “My well-being. Yes, I’m sure this lovely new cage will be excellent for my… well-being.”

The room fell silent again, the air thick with tension. Ness met each of their gazes in turn, refusing to flinch or blink, anger burning through her. She was starting to understand the truth of her situation, the reality of her captivity.

Mitsuhide’s soft voice, attempting to coax her, “Ness. You must try to understand-”

“I understand my position perfectly,” she cut him off, her voice steady and… a lot calmer than she felt. “Thank you for the clarity.”

A heavy silence settled in the room. Ness remained resolute, her expression polite but blank, watching them openly with a direct gaze. She searched for any sign of weakness, any crack in their facade. There was a certain unease to them now, as if they were unsure how to proceed. I see it now. It was intuition, but it settled into her chest with quiet certainty. They won’t hurt me. Not physically. They have no way to make me talk. The realisation was freeing. She was a prisoner. And prisoners didn’t talk. Not unless they chose to.

Ness took a slow, deep breath, the pain in her ribs a familiar ache, and retreated behind a wall of silence. Then, without a word, Ieyasu reached out for her hand. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his grip was firm enough to take possession. Ness didn’t resist as he carefully began to unwind the bandages, but her eyes remained fixed on Mitsuhide, tracking his every move. Don’t acknowledge him. Don’t give him anything.

Finally, after several long moments, Mitsuhide sighed softly, breaking the silence. 「It seems we’ve… spooked her. She won’t be answering any more questions tonight.」

Nobunaga nodded slowly, his gaze still assessing her, his expression thoughtful. She met that gaze head-on, those inscrutable carnelian eyes. Something tells me I’d even struggle to read you on a good day. Ieyasu continued his work, cleaning the tiny scratches with a damp cloth. The sharp sting brought a flicker of involuntary reaction, but she quickly suppressed it.

「Have you learned enough, Mitsuhide?」 Nobunaga’s low, authoritative voice rolled softly through the room, through the strange silence that had descended. 「To take the next steps?」

「She is wary, my lord. More than I initially anticipated.」 Mitsuhide paused, his eyes flicking to her then back to the other men. 「A more direct approach might only reinforce her reticence. I think a… gentler approach, one that earns her trust, might yield better results in the long run.」

Ieyasu shifted her hand, examining the wounds from a different angle. Ness’ fingers twitched slightly, but she made no other movement, no sound. They’re talking about me again. Trying to figure out what to do? I hope I’m right about them. Her eyes flicked, to their weapons, the potential danger that lay in clear sight at all times.

Ieyasu scoffed softly, a low sound in his throat. 「The woman would sooner swallow her tongue than offer it freely. It will take more than soft words to make her yield.」

「Then perhaps we need to show her that we are as comfortable with silence as she is.」 Mitsuhide’s thoughtful voice sounded like he was working something out. 「We need her to feel as if... speaking is her own choice.」

Ieyasu applied a salve to the scratches, his touch clinical and efficient. Just let him do it. It’s just… medical. 「Your plan is to wait her out?」 Ieyasu’s gruff voice sounded almost amused, though his expression did not change - calm, with just a subtle hint of irritation. 「Yes, that sounds like a brilliant use of our time.」

「If the wait makes you impatient, Ieyasu,」 Mitsuhide paused, a subtle hint of amusement in that diplomatic smile, 「just think of it as… a siege.」

Nobunaga tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. 「Do as you wish, Mitsuhide. You are responsible for her.」

「Yes, my lord,」 Mitsuhide inclined his head slightly. 「Then I will have her moved to my manor or… perhaps the castle. We can ensure her safety and continue our observations, in a more controlled environment.」

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashing with a hint of annoyance. 「Why don’t you drag her back to Kyoto while you’re at it, Mitsuhide?」 He paused, then added, 「Perhaps you could take the scenic route? It’d be just the tonic for her delicate condition.」

He began to rewrap her hand, his movements precise and practised. Ness stared straight ahead, trying to maintain her composure, to parse the subtle shift in the atmosphere. Ieyasu finished wrapping her hand, securing the bandage tightly. Then he finally released it, his touch lingering for a moment that felt endless.

Mitsuhide’s lips curved into a knowing smile. 「Are those the doctor’s orders, Ieyasu? As her temporary custodian, I do believe I must meticulously follow all directives.」

「She needs stability,」 Ieyasu folded his arms over his chest, his voice calm and even, 「not another upheaval. She requires a consistent environment for proper healing.」

「Of course, Ieyasu. I wouldn’t wish to cause her any further… discomfort,」 Mitsuhide’s smile was smooth, almost too smooth. 「After all, she appears to have a rather uncanny knack for slipping away from situations she finds… less than agreeable.」 His gaze lingered on Ieyasu’s face, that smile a constant presence.

「Let her try,」 Ieyasu retorted, his voice gruff but a hint of something else lurking beneath the surface. Confidence? 「She’s within my walls, under my roof. I will see to her security myself.」

「Indeed,」 Mitsuhide said calmly, his gaze meeting Ieyasu’s. 「But as I am responsible for her care, it is my duty to… oversee her recovery and ensure her well-being.」 He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. 「Perhaps… you should have a second guest room prepared?」

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. 「That won’t be necessary.」

Mitsuhide’s smile widened slightly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. 「But I insist, Ieyasu. Allow me to… mitigate your inconvenience.」

Nobunaga watched the exchange with detached amusement, a hint of dark humour in his eyes. He seemed to enjoy the tension that crackled between Mitsuhide and Ieyasu. Masamune, on the other hand, leaned back, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He seemed to find the situation highly entertaining.

Ieyasu let out a long, exasperated sigh. 「Fine,」 he grumbled, his gaze flicking to Ness. 「She stays here. And you…」 He glared at Mitsuhide. 「You stay on my terms.」

Mitsuhide bowed his head just slightly, that smile wide, a touch of amusement flickering through his gaze. 「Of course, Ieyasu. Anything you say.」

Chapter Text

The boisterous energy of the warlords dissipated as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving behind a cavernous silence that pressed in on Ness’ ears. One by one, they bowed, offering polite, murmured farewells and best wishes for her recovery, even Mitsuhide offering a fleeting, almost apologetic smile before trailing after the others. The door slid shut with a quiet thud , and the weight of her isolation settled heavily on her chest. 

Ness tried to keep her expression polite, neutral, but with the others gone, the air shifted, growing thick with a different kind of tension. Only Ieyasu remained, his green eyes sharp and watchful in the dwindling light. He gestured with a nod, not speaking, merely indicating the direction of the sleeping quarters, a subtle, silent command that left no room for argument. Not that I have the breath for arguments. Her body ached, every breath a reminder of what she was enduring, but the prospect of being alone with him, under his scrutiny, was an entirely different kind of discomfort.

Ieyasu moved with a quiet efficiency, herding her towards the inner chambers without once laying a finger on her. Her legs protested with every step, but he offered no support, only a steady, unwavering presence at her side. 

Inside the dimly lit bedroom, he paused, his gaze lingering on the intricate folds of her over-kimono. His hands moved almost hesitantly, reaching for the obi sash. A cold shiver ran down Ness’ spine, a ripple of panic disguised beneath a mask of forced indifference. The intimate act, the casual proximity, sent a jolt of anxiety through her already frayed nerves. She couldn’t stop the uncontrollable flinch.

Ieyasu paused, his hand hovering an inch from her body, and made a soft noise that sounded like a suppressed sigh. 「I will not hurt you. Have I not at least earned the benefit of the doubt?」 His voice was steady and calm, with just the faintest undercurrent of irritation.

Her eyes darted to his face, then back to his hands. He held all the power in those hands. And why does he sigh like that? As if he’s the one that’s been tortured. The one who feels cornered.

Ieyasu’s weary sigh was not suppressed this time. 「I suppose you don’t believe that.」 Then, in a quieter murmur, as if to himself, 「You flinch every time I come near. As if… as if I am him.」

Ness watched him warily, her gaze fixed on the hands that moved with surprising gentleness to undo the complex knot of the obi with a soft rustle. A gentle push of his fingers and the silken fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her feet like a discarded offering. Shame burned hot on her cheeks. It was the second time he’d undressed her, and she wasn’t naked this time, but it didn’t seem to matter. Yet, he sends a woman to put clothes on me. What does that say about him? Her eyes darted away, fixing to the floor.

A low growl of frustration rumbled in Ieyasu’s throat. 「What am I even saying? It’s pointless. Utterly pointless. I speak, and she hears sounds. I move, and she sees threats. Where is that damn kitsune when I actually need him?」

Then his hand came into view, calmly and directly pointing. She crawled into the offered futon, her body a symphony of aches and pains, and pulled the blankets up to her chin as if that could shield her from that unwavering gaze. Ieyasu left a single lantern burning, the soft glow casting long, dancing shadows on the paper walls. 

And then, she was alone. Truly alone for the first time since… since she clawed her way out of that nightmare. Not just surrounded by strangers in a strange time, but utterly, terrifyingly alone with her own thoughts. 

The lantern’s glow wasn’t a comfort, not a beacon of safety as Ieyasu might have intended. Instead, it felt like a spotlight, a harsh illumination that stripped away any illusion of peace. Every flicker cast shadows that morphed and shifted into shapes she couldn’t quite define, but shapes that felt disturbingly familiar. And with the isolation came the memories, the ones she’d been fiercely battling down since waking up in a sea of fire. 

It was the light, the relentless, unwavering light that mirrored the unending glare of that room. The room without windows. The room where time had lost all meaning, where hours bled into days under the constant unblinking gaze of electric bulbs. She wasn’t safe here; she was trapped. Trapped in a soft bed, yes, but trapped nonetheless, with brutal ghosts clawing their way to the surface of her mind. She curled tighter, her good hand clenched into a fist, a silent plea to her body to stop shaking, to stop betraying the terror that threatened to overwhelm her. She was supposed to be a survivor, supposed to be strong. But in the face of this quiet, this light, this isolation… she was just utterly, utterly terrified.

Ness squeezed her eyes shut, a silent battle raging within her. Every inch of her mind screamed to stay awake, to remain vigilant against the memories lurking just beneath the surface. Don’t let go. Don’t let them in. She tried to hold onto the present, tried to anchor herself in the pain. But her thoughts kept drifting, pulled away by an invisible current. Her limbs grew heavy, the tension in her muscles finally giving way, and despite her desperate internal pleas, the darkness began to creep around the edges of her consciousness. 

It wasn’t sleep, not really. It was more like a slow, unwilling surrender, a reluctant slide into the abyss where her fears waited.

Her dreams fractured into jagged pieces. A cold touch… too cold… on her toes? No. Not again. Not there. The scent of damp grass? No… the sharp, acrid reek of disinfectant, or something like it, something synthetic and wrong. The comforting warmth of the blanket became the stifling weight of hands, holding her down. No. Get them off. A whimper escaped her lips, a soft, broken sound lost in the silence of the room. A whisper, just a phantom breath in her ear, warped into a cruel laugh echoing in the void. ‘Today we start… lower.’ His voice - so gentle, so cold, so detached. So very pleased.

She twisted, trying to pull away, but her body felt leaden, unresponsive. A sob caught in her throat, a choked sound that barely made it past her lips. Sharp pressure, a vice-like grip on her feet. Metal against flesh. Ice. Then, pain, localized and sharp. A silent scream tore through her, but no sound left her lips. Her body twisted into an agonised shape under the blankets but there was nothing she could do but endure.

‘Just a little more.’ The relentless, methodical ascent of pain. Her ankles, her shins. She tried to pull away, but straps held her fast. A low chuckle, a whisper. ‘Such pretty skin.’ Up again. A cold, slick feeling. The scrape of metal, a sound that echoed her own brokenness. More pressure, more pain. And with the pain came a fresh wave of shame. Her body jerked involuntarily, and a strangled sob escaped her. The slip from coldness to delight in those icy blue eyes. He liked that sound. He liked how her terror grew. “No… please… it hurts…” She knew what would come next, after this, and after that, and after that… she knew the map, charted out on her own skin, each stage marked by what he had done before.

The anticipation was a living, breathing monster in itself, far worse than any pain.

Of what he would do. Not what he’d done but what he could, and would do to make her break. ‘Just a little more and then you’ll tell me what I want to know.’ Hands. Always his hands. Grasping, probing, manipulating. So deliberate, so clinical, a touch that made her want to claw her own skin off. Please. Don’t touch me. “Please… oh God…” Her ragged whispers broke free from her dreams. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. I can’t…” 

Her body was his canvas, each mark a new color, a new line, vivid under the harsh glare of the electric bulb. And the look in his eyes when he saw what he had made. Disgust. Excitement. The awe of an artist for his masterpiece. The look that meant… “Please! Please, God… oh, the light.” Ness gasped for air, her cries loud, hoarse. “The light! Please… don’t… make me watch.”

No, no, no. Hands on her again. Something sharp and glinting, a flash of silver. Pain, searing, burning, and the memory of another sharp sound, a lock clicking shut. Another cry, this one louder, more desperate. She relived it all over again, each small detail, each breath and sound he made. He was the narrator, and she was the story. One she couldn’t escape.

Her breath hitched, catching in her throat like a jagged shard. A scream clawed its way up, but it was trapped, a strangled whimper lost in the raging storm within her mind. Then, a touch - feather-light, tentative - landed on her shoulder.

No.

A voice, low and gruff, cut through the noise, pulling her back from the abyss. 「Wake up, now. Wake up. It’s just a dream. Just a bad dream.」 The words were muffled, distorted, barely registering.

Her body jerked awake, every muscle coiled tight, every nerve ending screaming with fire. She was tangled in unfamiliar blankets, the soft fabric suddenly smothering. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pounding in her head. Where…? The air was thick, heavy, too thick to breathe, and her vision swam with black spots. She clawed at the blankets, desperate to escape, to get air, to get away from the phantom grip that still lingered on her broken arm.

A low sound, a soft grunt, startled her. 「No, stop fighting. You’re safe now, there’s no one here. Just me. It’s finished.」 The words felt wrong, distant. Like they were coming through water.

She flinched violently, scrambling backwards until her spine slammed against something hard. A wall? No, a solid, unyielding presence. A hand, warm and firm, settled on her arm, not twisting, not breaking, but holding. She choked, a strangled sob escaping her lips, and the panic threatened to drown her completely. This isn’t right. This isn’t real. But the touch, the heat radiating from his palm, the steady breathing - it felt undeniably, terrifyingly real.

Ness froze, her body locking up. Every muscle turned to stone, every nerve screamed in silent protest. A tremor started deep inside, a frantic, stuttering vibration that shook her to her core. She curled in on herself, trying to become smaller, trying to disappear, to erase herself from existence. The blankets tangled around her like a shroud, a clinging, suffocating web. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps, each one a painful, desperate struggle to pull air into her burning lungs.

“N… no,” she managed to force out, the word barely a whisper. A whimper followed, a small broken sound lost in the storm of her panic.

Then, the presence behind her shifted. Shadows seemed to writhe, to move, something looming, something impossibly threatening. Her eyes widened further, pupils dilating, and her breaths turned to desperate, silent pants.

「Shhh. Easy now, easy. You’re safe. I’m not… whoever he was. I’m not him.」 A voice cut through the haze, low and rumbling, but edged with… frustration? 

The words were just sounds, meaningless sounds, but the frustration, the feeling … that felt familiar. Like being trapped, like being backed into a corner, with no way out. ‘I am running out of patience, Princess, and that is unfortunate for you.’ She gasped, terror surging in an unfathomably dark wave, and broken, formless sounds fell from her lips.

「Damn it. What am I supposed to do? Nothing I say will mean anything.」 The words sharpened, the agitation palpable. 

It only made the shadows feel darker, the unseen threat more potent. No. God. Please. Not again. She clawed at her chest, desperate to escape, but her head just spun with nauseating dizziness.

「Patience, Ieyasu. Patience. She’s injured, she’s frightened. Like a… rabbit in a snare.」 The agitated voice grew steadier. More controlled, frustration reined in. But the shift didn’t truly register. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear, a vortex pulling her down, deeper and deeper into the abyss. 「This may be too much. But if I don’t, then what?」 This was quieter, barely audible, a mumble more than a statement. Then, warmth, solid warmth. An arm came around her, a warm hand pressing gently against the center of her back. 「I will not hurt you. This is just… to help. So you can find some peace. Just for a moment.」

Terror exploded. Her world narrowed to the frantic, desperate struggle for air and the dizzying darkness spinning in her head, threatening to swallow her whole. The touch was too much, too close. It felt like him. It had to be him. Her good hand shot up, a clumsy, desperate swing aimed at the figure in front of her - at the presence that loomed over her.

Before her fist connected, her hand was caught, held firm but not tight. A gasp tore from her throat, a choked, broken sound of pure panic.

Then she saw him. Really saw him. The green eyes, sharp and intense, focused entirely on her face, burning into her. It was Ieyasu. Ieyasu. The recognition slammed into her with the force of a physical blow, shattering the phantom image of John but sending a fresh, freezing wave of panic crashing over her, threatening to drown her again. Oh God, what is he doing in my bed?

「Please… just let me. Let me help you. I promise… I promise that is all.」 His voice was earnest, pleading even, a raw desperation that cut through the swirling chaos in her mind for just a heartbeat, a flicker of something akin to his own helplessness.

Then she realised. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was locked, seized, her lungs burning. “Can’t… breathe,” she gasped out, the words broken, choked, barely audible. “I… can’t…”

Ieyasu moved her hand, guiding it to the center of his chest, pressing it against the solid warmth beneath his robes. He took a deep, slow breath, his chest rising and falling beneath her palm. His gaze never left hers, those intense eyes anchoring her to… something. 「In… and out. Just like this.」

She tried. She really tried. Her own breaths were still ragged, uneven, panicked, but she focused on the slow, steady rhythm beneath her hand. It was something to anchor to, something real in the sea of her panic, a lifeline in the darkness.

「That’s it. Just focus on your breath. You’re doing well.」 As if he saw her trying, saw the slight lessening of her wild terror, he murmured softly and pulled her a little closer. The hand on her back slid up, gently cupping the back of her head, as if he was trying to hold her together. He drew her in until her forehead rested against his chest, just above the steady, rhythmic thump of his heartbeat. 

And they stayed like that. Ness clung to the rhythm of his breathing, the steady pulse beneath her ear, the solid warmth of his body, a small haven of something solid in the chaos. Slowly, her trembling subsided. The violent shaking became a soft, lingering shudder. The desperate gasps turned into quieter, more measured breaths, though each one still hitched with remembered terror. Only the small, persistent tremors that came with any touch remained, but even those were… muted. Subdued. Then frozen by the realisation of him holding her. He’s holding me. I’m in his arms?!

Ieyasu must have sensed the shift. He let out a soft, reassuring noise and pulled back slightly, his hand still cupping her head. 「Easy, now. I’m letting go now, see?」 His voice was calm, almost… gentle. The hand on her head remained there for a moment longer, before it slid away, slowly, reluctantly. He held up both hands, as if to show her his intentions.

His words, though spoken gently, were like a cold splash of water, bringing her back to reality with a jolt. A harsh, unwelcome reality. He saw. He saw everything. The full force of what had just happened crashed down on her, crushing her beneath its weight. Her face flushed, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks. Oh God. She averted her gaze, fixing on a loose thread on the blanket, anything to avoid his eyes. Her body trembled, the tremors less violent now but replaced by a deeper, more insidious shaking. He knows. He knows how broken I am. Shame coiled in her stomach, a tight, suffocating knot. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor, to be anywhere but here, under his knowing gaze. Don’t look at me. Please, just don’t look at me. Every inch of her wanted to pull away, to put as much distance as possible between them, but her body felt leaden, unresponsive. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes, and she clenched her jaw tight, desperate not to let them fall. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. But the act of holding them back hurt worse than any blow ever had.

All she wanted was for him to leave. For him to leave, so she could retreat into the illusion of being alone, of being able to pretend that none of this was happening. A wave of defiance surged within her, a fierce urge to speak, to defend herself, to lash out at the pity she felt emanating from him. Her lips parted, a protest forming, but she caught herself. Her hand shot up, covering her mouth as if to physically hold back the words, and she quickly averted her gaze again.

Ieyasu, though, seemed to sense the shift in her, the silent struggle raging beneath her efforts to stay in control. 「How long will you keep fighting me like this?」 Then his frustration, which she could feel humming beneath the surface, seemed to recede, replaced by something more… measured. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, his hand rising.

She flinched instinctively, but he didn’t touch her arm or shoulder. Instead, he quietly pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, his touch fleeting, barely there. It was a physician’s touch, a quick check for fever. His green eyes, usually so sharp, held a flicker of… something. Worry? Concern? It was hard to tell, but it was undeniably there. Then, as abruptly as he’d moved, he sat back on his heels again.

「You need to rest, now.」 The voice was calm, firm, authoritative. He illustrated his unintelligible command with a gesture of his hand towards the futon.

No. Ness shook her head, the gesture abrupt and frantic, the response instinctive before she could stop herself. I can’t. I can’t face more of that. How can I ever sleep again?

Ieyasu’s sigh was barely audible, as if he was making every effort to suppress his own frustration and irritation. 「No. I will not negotiate on this. You will rest.」 A pause, his hand still pointing at the bed, then his voice softened just slightly. 「I will… come back, if you need me. You have my word.」

Somehow, this soft voice held a weight that struck deeply. Perhaps it was a sense of obligation, or maybe just a need to reclaim some sense of control, but something in Ieyasu’s voice made her act without thinking. She lifted her good hand and pointed a trembling finger at the single lantern still burning in the corner, then deliberately closed her hand into a tight fist. Her gaze was unwavering, fixed on his eyes, conveying her silent request with every ounce of will she possessed. No light. Darkness. Privacy. Even as she made her request, she regretted exposing her fear to him, confessing more weakness on top of all that he’d already witnessed.

He paused, his gaze locked with hers. For a heartbeat, she held her breath, every nerve on edge. She thought he might argue, might seize the opportunity to push for more, to break through her silence and demand the answers he wanted. But then, Ieyasu gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. A concession. He rose to his feet in a slow, easy movement that belied the tension she sensed beneath. He turned his back, his steps measured as he walked across the room and lifted the lantern. Then, he turned his head, his sharp, green gaze fixing on her, his eyes flicking to the bed, a silent directive, a command even without words.

She hesitated, her body rebelling against the inevitable. To lie down was to surrender, to open the door to the awaiting horrors. But she was so tired. Every muscle screamed in protest, every bone ached with exhaustion. Still, she could fight. She could. But then, she gave a single, reluctant nod. A deal’s a deal, I guess. Even a silent one. With a final, lingering look, he turned his back again, and padded back towards the main chamber, plunging the room into shadows as he took the lantern with him. Ness was left with nothing but the faintest echo of the fading light and the heavy, smothering weight of the soft blanket against her skin.

She tossed and turned, every instinct screaming to remain vigilant. Sleep felt like a dangerous vulnerability. Exposure. But her body was heavy, weighed down with exhaustion, and the throbbing, relentless pain that seeped into every cell. It was an overwhelming force, irresistible. Impossible to deny. Her eyelids drooped, her mind began to drift, the frantic edge of her terror blunted slightly by the sheer weight of fatigue. The room was dark now, blessedly free of the harsh, triggering light. 

And then, on the edge of her awareness, the distant murmur of voices drifted in, low and reassuring. Familiar, unthreatening, quiet - a gentle, rumbling conversation. They weren’t the cruel whispers of her dream, but something else entirely, an anchor in the unsettled darkness, accompanying her on her slide back into fitful slumber.

Chapter Text

Silence descended upon the inner chambers, thick and unsettling. Even the familiar, grounding scent of incense - a scent he chose, a scent he knew - was now tainted, overpowered by the lingering tang of sweat and fear, sharp and primal. Ieyasu returned to the main room, his steps heavy, each footfall a dull thud against the tatami mats. The lantern swinging in his hand cast strange shadows across the floor but he paid them no mind. His mind still reeled, echoing with the fractured sounds that had clawed their way out of Ness’ throat during the last hour. Her cries, her terrified whispers in that unknown tongue. He couldn’t understand the words, but he did not need to. Her pain was all laid bare in the way she’d clutched at him as if he were the only solid thing in a crumbling world. Hells, the way she trembled in my arms. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind.

Ieyasu set the lantern down with a heavy thud, and let out a weary sigh. He drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment as if trying to anchor himself, then exhaled slowly, deliberately, seeking to regain control of his racing thoughts. Just put it out of your mind, Ieyasu. You don’t need this. Do what’s necessary until Nobunaga gets whatever it is he thinks he wants and then… this can be somebody else’s burden. But he couldn’t unhear it, the whimper of terror she’d made when he’d touched her, like a trapped animal fearing capture.

「Are you quite certain it’s wise to leave her in darkness, Ieyasu?」  The silken voice cut through the silence, like a sharp blade through still water.

Ieyasu gave away no hint of surprise in his body language, though he was surprised to have not noticed the fox that had snuck into his den. This is what happens when you let yourself get distracted. He kept his voice calm, measured, in response. 「It is at her request.」

The reply hung in the air, followed by a resounding silence. Yes, I thought that might pique your interest. It had surprised him too, in truth, not the gesture but… her gaze. Her eyes pleaded with him as if he might deny her such a simple request. He had the sense it had cost her a lot, to make it of him.

「I understand now.」 Mitsuhide made that smooth voice sound all-knowing, as if he’d had a revelation, when really he was just drawing Ieyasu in with his vagueness.

Ieyasu suppressed the sigh, pushed his irritation down as far as it could go, and finally turned with a slow, deliberate movement. Mitsuhide sat serenely at a low table, a single cup of tea steaming gently before him. The man looked as though he’d been there for hours, an island of calm in the roiling storm Ieyasu was trying to suppress. He raised an eyebrow at him. You’re not seriously going to make me ask, are you Mitsuhide?  

Mitsuhide made a soft, amused noise, but then that treacherous smile faded and he looked up. The real man briefly emerged, his expression serious. 「The light was always on, she said.」

‘There were no windows. The light was always on.’ Ieyasu replayed Ness’ words in his mind, the fragment from their conversation, the lost time, the endless glare. He’d completely forgotten. Had he actually been so foolish as to leave a lantern burning all night, recreating the very environment she’d described with such distress? Damn it, how unthinking could I be? 

He regretted turning now, having to control every twitch of his face in the full force of Mitsuhide’s observant gaze, as he realised his own failings. Mitsuhide simply explained her request, conveying information, but it made his inner anger burn hotter. He could see the tiredness in the other man’s eyes. They both felt the weight of this situation. But I’m the one bearing all the burden. I can’t believe I was foolish enough to believe that Mitsuhide, of all people, would “mitigate my inconvenience”.

Ieyasu scowled, the bubbling frustration pricking beneath his skin. 「Where were you?」 His voice came out rougher than he intended, a jagged edge to his words. 「You vanished. I needed…」 He trailed off, not quite sure what he’d needed, but the other man’s sudden absence had been jarring, unsettling. He’d felt… exposed.

Mitsuhide tilted his head, the faint smile returning, his amber eyes steady, almost too calm. 「Nearby. Listening.」

「Listening?」 Ieyasu’s scowl intensified, his jaw tightening. 「You just… eavesdropped?」 He couldn’t quite keep the accusation from his tone, couldn’t quite suppress the peculiar irritation that came along with Mitsuhide being, well, Mitsuhide.

「I observed,」 Mitsuhide corrected gently, his voice smooth as silk, though he failed to hide the hint of amusement. 「And I commend you, Ieyasu. You handled her… distress… remarkably well.」

Ieyasu snorted, a harsh, humourless sound. 「Remarkably well? I’m supposed to be a doctor, not… not a mute attendant.」 He raked a hand through his already disheveled hair, frustration bubbling over, a bitter taste in his mouth. 「I’m far better at my job when I can talk to my patients.」 When I can understand. When I can actually help.

「Perhaps,」 Mitsuhide replied, his voice oddly flat, the usual silken smoothness absent. There was a subtle shift in his posture. 「But I judged that my presence… would only have unsettled her further.」 He paused, and for a flicker of a moment, a strange, almost bruised look shadowed his eyes.

It was so fleeting, Ieyasu wondered if he’d imagined it. Regret? From Mitsuhide? The thought was so absurd, it almost made him scoff aloud. He’d seen Mitsuhide navigate countless tense situations, always with an unruffled calm and an unreadable smile. Regret seemed… an impossible fit. Yet, something in his voice, the slight strain in his tone, made Ieyasu pause.

Mitsuhide let out an almost imperceptible sigh, a sound that held more weariness than theatrical drama. 「To her,」 he murmured, voice low, almost distant, 「I am the voice of her captors now. And what they want to know.」

「I don’t care,」 Ieyasu snapped, irritation leaking out of him despite all his best efforts to contain it. 「I can’t treat her without a translator.」

「You underestimate yourself, Ieyasu.」 Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow, that infuriating smile returning, his voice… placating. 「Tonight, words were not the key. Your presence, your… stability… that was what she needed.」

「Stability?」 Ieyasu scoffed again, his gaze sharpening. He hadn’t felt stable. He’d felt like a bomb was about to go off in his hands. 「The way she reacted… it was as if I was the very thing she feared. She didn’t even understand that I was trying to help. Did you hear her? Did you hear the…」 He broke off abruptly. He didn’t want to revisit the sounds she’d made, the broken, fragmented pleas, the heart-wrenching cries. But his gut twisted with guilt, the weight of his own helplessness pressing down on him.

「Yes,」 Mitsuhide said quietly, his voice holding a new weight. 「I heard.」

 A heavy silence descended between them. Ieyasu found himself pacing, unable to stand still, the restless energy thrumming through his veins. 「What was she saying, exactly?」 he finally asked, his voice low and strained. You heard everything. And you understood.

「Ieyasu, are you certain you wish to hear every detail?」 That calm, soft voice held an unmistakable note of warning. 「It was… quite distressing.」

Ieyasu dismissed him with a sharp tone. 「I want everything. Not the edited version.」

Mitsuhide’s expression shifted, that unnerving calm finally cracking, a shadow crossing his face. 「She… pleaded. Begged for it to stop. She cried out that she could not… take it anymore. She was in… distress.」 

His answers were carefully vague, almost too vague, and Ieyasu sensed a deliberate evasion, a shield being erected between them. Something was off, terribly off.

「That’s it? Just ‘distress’?」 Ieyasu stopped pacing and fixed Mitsuhide with a piercing stare, his eyes narrowed. 「You’re holding something back.」 What are you hiding?

There was a tightness in Mitsuhide’s jaw, almost imperceptible. 「She said other things,」 he admitted quietly, his voice low.

「And?」 Ieyasu pressed, his stomach churning with a sense of dread, a cold knot tightening in his gut. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he wasn’t ready for what he was about to hear.

Mitsuhide hesitated, his gaze darting down before returning to meet Ieyasu’s with a new kind of heaviness. Then, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper, flat and devoid of emotion, 「She said, ‘Please. The light. Please don’t make me… watch.’」

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, thick with the terror he’d heard in her voice. Ieyasu felt a coldness spread through him, a sudden hollowness in his chest, as if something vital had been ripped away. 「Does that mean…」 He swallowed hard, unable to force the question past the lump in his throat. 「No, no, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know that.」 Hells, no.

Mitsuhide’s eyes were unusually somber, the warmth gone, leaving behind a chilling intensity. His usual light tone vanished, replaced by a bluntness that was almost jarring, almost brutal. 「That the only relief imaginable was… not having to see what was being done to her.」

Ieyasu felt the blood drain from his face. He sank onto a nearby cushion, the fabric rustling in the silence, his mind reeling with the implications of those simple words. The depth of her suffering, the sheer horror of what she must have endured… it was almost too much to comprehend. The things he’d seen in his life, even on the worst battlefield. This was different. Personal. Intimate. Cruel.

「It speaks to a… profound sense of violation, of being forced to witness her own suffering.」 Mitsuhide spoke quietly, his voice low, but the weight of every word hung heavy in the air. 「The way she… flinches at even the slightest touch.」

「It is not just flinching,」 Ieyasu said, the words heavy with a dark understanding. 「She is terrified. Of us. Of just being touched. And the words… broken, distorted things. But enough, enough to know. She is far more broken than we feared.」

「And the pattern of injuries, Ieyasu,」 Mitsuhide continued, his brow furrowed, 「The peculiar distribution.」

Ieyasu took a moment, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breath. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Let it go, Ieyasu. Just let it go. But her wounds… his fingers had traced the outline of her bruises, the precise edges of her cuts. The feel of her skin, too warm, too fragile, still lingered on his fingertips. He had never seen injuries like this before. Not on a woman, not on one so small, but he knew the signs. It was systematic, calculated. It wasn’t rage. It was something far colder. And Mitsuhide knows it, too. He wasn’t asking a question. So Ieyasu gave him no answer.

Mitsuhide let out an almost inaudible sigh, his soft voice laced with reluctance. 「It’s… a progression, isn’t it? From the extremities upwards?」

Ieyasu felt a wave of disgust wash over him, cold and acidic. The oldest injuries were on her feet. Who begins with the feet? Who does that? What did he want that he needed to take her apart in that way? He sighed, a deep, weary sound. 「The system. The… thoroughness of it. It wasn’t a message; it was personal. It was about her. Breaking her. Slowly. Piece by piece. As if he was… working.」

「It is a disturbing thought,」 Mitsuhide said, his voice quiet, almost hushed. 「That her torture was the point, not just the method.」

「It makes it… worse. So much worse,」 Ieyasu muttered, his gaze distant. The understanding settled in his gut, a heavy, leaden weight. Hells, what have we stumbled upon?

「She did not tell him what he wanted to know. Whatever that was. That is something. That is strength,」 said Mitsuhide, his tone laced with a quiet respect.

「It is foolishness,」 Ieyasu retorted, his voice rough, harsher than he intended. 「She should have told him. Then he might not have broken her.」 He might have made it quick. That thought brought a fresh wave of guilt and shame.

Mitsuhide regarded Ieyasu with a steady, almost unnerving, gaze. He took a moment, letting the silence stretch just a fraction longer, as if he was carefully weighing his words. 「Do you truly believe that?」 Mitsuhide asked softly. There was a quiet gravity in his tone, a hint of something sharper, something probing. 「That had she told him what he wanted, that he would have simply… released her? Allowed her to walk away unharmed?」

Ieyasu flinched, just a tiny flicker of movement, a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. He averted his gaze, focusing on the dancing flame in the brazier. He didn’t answer, though he understood that his silence spoke volumes.

Mitsuhide pressed on, his voice still low but unwavering. 「Consider the nature of her injuries, Ieyasu. The methodical, brutal nature of it. It was not about information. Not truly. It was about… something else.」

Ieyasu’s hands tightened into fists on his knees, the knuckles stark white. 「I… I know that,」 he muttered, his voice low and strained. It wasn’t the firm, authoritative tone he usually used. 「I just… to think that she suffered like that and nobody protected her.」 Nobody prevented it. We didn’t prevent it. How could this happen right under our noses?

「It’s natural to imagine what we might have done differently,」 Mitsuhide said, his voice steady, reflecting a deep, grim understanding. 「But we were not there, Ieyasu. We only have the aftermath. And what we have…」 He paused, and Ieyasu could feel his unwavering gaze on him. 「What we have is a woman who survived.」

A woman who survived? The words echoed in Ieyasu’s mind, a knot tightening in his gut. But which woman? The one who faced down Mitsuhide with fire in her eyes, or the one who shattered in my arms, whispering of horrors I couldn’t see? He couldn’t reconcile the images, the defiant strength he’d witnessed with the utter fragility he’d held. Who are you?

「And I think,」 Mitsuhide added softly, 「that she understands that she would not have walked free if she had given him what he asked for. I think she understands that very, very well. That she stayed strong for a reason, and she had absolutely no intention of being ‘released’.」

Stayed strong. Ieyasu’s thoughts returned to her silence, her refusal to show weakness, even when her body betrayed her. And through it all, not a single word of complaint about the pain that must be her constant. Not one. Just dark jokes about amputation and the pain of laughter. Damn her defiance. Damn her silence. But… I can’t deny the strength in it. 

Ieyasu finally looked up, his eyes meeting Mitsuhide’s with a new intensity. Tension thrummed through every muscle as he wrestled with it, the recognition of the truth beneath his own harsh words. 「You… you think she knew?」 he asked, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

Mitsuhide nodded slowly. 「I do,」 he said simply.

Ieyasu let out a long, shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face, and sighed, the sound filled with exhaustion. 「Then she also understands that he isn’t finished. It’s why she wants to run, isn’t it? It’s not really about us.」

Mitsuhide remained silent for a moment, letting Ieyasu’s words hang in the air. 「Yes. There is no reason to believe this is the end of it. If anything, it is likely that her escape will make him… more determined.」

「And we don’t know enough to protect her.」 Ieyasu could hear the frustration in his own voice. Every instinct screamed at him to demand answers, to push her, to tear down the walls she had erected. But he had seen what that did. He had held her shaking body. He knew that would break her completely. But how much worse will it be if he returns? 「We need answers, Mitsuhide. Every day without them brings more risk.」 But even as he said it, the knowledge that she would never tell them grated against every nerve.

「True, but… we have no choice but to proceed with caution, Ieyasu. We watch her reactions. We listen. We try to build trust. We must be very… gentle.」 That smile returned, easier now, gently teasing. 「Which, I know, will be a trial for you.」

A soft, frustrated growl rumbled in Ieyasu’s chest - not because he was wrong, but because he was right. Patience. Watching. He means standing by helplessly while her suffering eats her alive. It went against every screaming instinct in his body. Ieyasu shook his head, a gentle sigh escaping his lips. 「I’m not equipped for this, Mitsuhide. It’s easy on the battlefield, you patch up the soldiers and send them back. They know what’s happening. They want to be healed. This… this is so different.」

「She wants to be healed, too, Ieyasu.」 Mitsuhide tilted his head, those eyes glinting with intensity, as if he was carefully watching for Ieyasu’s reaction. 「But she is… terrified to put her trust in the wrong people.」

She has a mind that does not trust anyone. Can I really blame her? Another frustrated growl rumbled from Ieyasu’s lips and he tugged his hand through his hair. 「It feels like we are fumbling in the dark, that we know nothing at all.」

Mitsuhide’s expression softened, a thoughtful look settling over his features. 「That isn’t entirely true,」 he said quietly. 「We do know things. We know she could not have travelled far from where she was being held. Not in her condition. We know that she arrived in the last few weeks. We know that anyone who saw her would most certainly remember her. And we know a name.」

John. That name. It had been a turning point. A wall had slammed down, cutting her off from them. What is the significance of that name? Who is he? He needed to know. He had to know. But… 「We can’t be certain the name is even relevant.」 Ieyasu tightened his hand into a fist and drew in a deep, calming breath.

「Yes, we can.」 Mitsuhide’s soft voice held a firmness, not even a hint of doubt. 「You saw it too, didn’t you? Her eyes… the way the light went out when I said that name. As if she was no longer inhabiting her body.」

Ieyasu rubbed a hand over his thigh, the lingering sting a sharp echo of her nails digging into his flesh. He didn’t need to look; he knew there would be bruises, a tangible reminder of her intense reaction. That reaction. To just a name. The thought made something inside him clench. He needed to control this situation, to protect her. Or are you just trying to protect yourself?

「You will not speak that name to her again.」 His voice was calm, steady, authoritative - an order. A moment of silence, to let it settle, and Ieyasu continued, his voice level,「It’s detrimental to her recovery. Such shocks can impede the healing process.」

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes flickered with amusement, but a faint, almost imperceptible softening touched his lips as well, a subtle acknowledgement of a burden lifted. 「Of course, Ieyasu. The doctor has spoken. Who am I to argue with such sound medical advice?」 There was a playful lightness in his voice, a shade lighter than mere mockery. 「It would be most irresponsible of me to ignore the physician’s… order.」

Ieyasu shifted slightly, as if he could physically shrug off the discomfort that had settled in his chest. He was aware of the faint heat rising in his cheeks, a rare moment of unease with his own actions. Abruptly, he returned the conversation to the more important matter, his voice taking on a sudden, clipped tone. 「The name. It’s an outsider name. Like hers. It will stand out.」

「Indeed. As will he.」 Mitsuhide’s smile softened, his expression becoming more thoughtful. 「Which is why I’ve already put some… inquiries into motion.」

「You… are already investigating?」 So that’s where you disappeared to. I should have known. The knowledge that Mitsuhide had been actively working, rather than merely ‘observing’, eased some of the tension that was coiled in Ieyasu’s gut. At least something was being done. At least there was some measure of progress, even if he wasn’t able to see it or control it.

「Of course.」 Mitsuhide’s smile held a knowing edge, his voice a hint of amusement. 「Patience is not the only route to our destination, Ieyasu.」

Mitsuhide spoke of patience as if it were a virtue he possessed in abundance. Ieyasu knew better. Mitsuhide was patient only when it suited his purpose. Only when he believed it would lead to a greater advantage in the end. So what advantage are you looking for this time? Whatever it was, he could not deny that Mitsuhide had helped, if only by offering the illusion of forward motion. 

Silence settled between them, the quiet filled with a shared weariness. Finally, Ieyasu willed himself back to his feet with a soft, tired grunt. 「I need to check on our guest.」

He scooped the lantern back off the floor as he walked towards the bedroom again. He heard the soft rustle of cloth that told him Mitsuhide was following. Now you want to be helpful? But he pushed the irritation down, said nothing. They both stopped at the screen, peering in. Ness was quiet, seemingly asleep. The space was dark and held a still, almost peaceful quality. For a moment, Ieyasu almost left her be.

Then, he heard it - the rapid, shallow panting, a rasping sound that underlaid the apparent, outward calm. He entered the space, his steps quiet and measured, the lantern light casting flickering shadows across the wall. He leaned over her sleeping form silently, quickly assessing. She was flushed, her cheeks a stark, feverish scarlet against her pale skin, and she tossed restlessly in her sleep. Ieyasu reached out, his fingers brushing against her forehead. The heat was unmistakable. 

Ieyasu set the lantern down with a barely audible sigh, and looked back to the other man in the doorway. 「She’s burning up.」

Mitsuhide’s usual amusement was gone, his amber eyes meeting Ieyasu’s with a somber understanding. 「Fever?」 he asked quietly, his gaze flicking towards Ness, as if he needed to confirm with his own eyes.

Ieyasu nodded grimly. 「With these injuries, it was… inevitable. The only surprise is the delay.」

「Perhaps,」 Mitsuhide murmured, his gaze still on Ness, 「she has been holding herself together through sheer will.」

They remained in silence then, for just a moment, the weight of the situation settling between them. I hope we won’t regret not pushing her for answers while we still had the chance. The thought flickered through Ieyasu’s mind, a momentary ripple on the surface of his focus, but he brushed it aside. No. Now is what matters. 

Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders shifted, squaring themselves. He drew in a slow, measured breath, the kind he’d taken countless times on battlefields amidst chaos. The subtle adjustment steadied him; it wasn’t conscious, but the familiar pattern of countless injuries, countless fevers, slotting into place. His hand automatically moved towards the supplies he knew were close by. It was muscle memory, a thousand times over. His body remembered how to deal with this, even if his mind was still tangled in the complexities of their situation. He knew this routine. This was a situation he understood; this was something he could fix.

Mitsuhide remained at the door, watching. He didn’t offer advice, or even encouragement, but his presence was a constant. Ieyasu knew, even without looking, that the other man was there, a silent support. It was… helpful. In a way that Ieyasu would never openly acknowledge. The clinical assessment took over, leaving no room for lingering anxieties. He would handle this. And, he realised, with a reluctant flicker of gratitude, and more than a little resentment, he could do it - at least in part - because Mitsuhide was there.

Chapter Text

Days bled into each other, indistinguishable in the hazy blur of fever. One moment, she was shivering, her teeth chattering despite the heavy blankets piled atop her. The next, she was burning, sweat slicking her skin and the world spinning dizzily above. Snippets of conversations drifted in and out of her consciousness - low, murmuring voices speaking in a language she could not comprehend. A gentle hand pressed against her forehead. A scent like damp grass drifting through sweat-soaked air. A worried, green gaze. But then the fever would drag her under again, and all that remained were fragmented memories: the sterile light of a room, the sound of a lock, John’s voice - no. Not that. Anything but that. Another voice, a soft, comforting murmur, words that were familiar, reassuring. Sharp, amber eyes. Cool fingers on her cheek. She’d claw her way back to the surface, only to be pulled under once more, leaving her feeling like a broken buoy tossed in a storm.

By the time the fever finally broke, she’d lost track of time. Two days? Three? It hardly mattered, and yet… it did. Her body felt like a battlefield, every muscle aching, every nerve thrumming with the constant vibration of pain. She’d been moved to her own room, a space where the silence settled, each day a slow, torturous exercise in maintaining it. Ness had become a master of the blank stare, the averted gaze. She’d perfected the art of appearing to be somewhere else, lost in thought, when really she was just trying desperately not to be in her own head at all. 

Ieyasu’s visits were as predictable as the sunrise. He came, he treated, he left. His touch remained as clinical as ever, his gaze aloof and impersonal. He never lingered, never spoke beyond the necessary instructions translated by Mitsuhide. There was a cold efficiency to his care, a detachment that she both appreciated and resented. It was as though she were an object, a puzzle, a patient, rather than a person. She knew, logically, that he was trying to keep his distance, trying to be professional. And yet… when the terrors came, when screams tore her throat raw, he was there. A presence, a hand on her back, a low voice guiding her breath. He was not a distant physician, but a man who held her, who whispered of safety. It was as if a mask slipped, something else leaking through. But then, sharp words would burst free, urgent and furious, and she wondered… if the man was the mask? Fury and calm. Detachment and presence. Which one is real? Is he hiding the man behind the doctor, or the doctor behind the man?

In the evenings, Mitsuhide would come alone. Just a man and a cushion, and an entirely different sort of silence. He would enter with a polite greeting, which she, resolutely, did not acknowledge. He would then settle in the room, taking up his cushion in a corner and sitting in companionable quiet. He sat for an hour. And then he’d go. Each day it was the same. No questions. No demands. Just his presence. It was infuriating. Because she could tell he was giving her the space to speak. Space she had no desire to fill. And then, once, when Ieyasu was away… Mitsuhide was there when the world became the room, the lock, the voice. He didn’t have Ieyasu’s touch, but he had those eyes. Those knowing, amber eyes that seemed to see right through her, and in them, for the first time, she saw not just observation, but a hint of something akin to pain. He didn’t respond to her terror with silence; he broke it. A soft, low murmur, in her own tongue, simple, soothing words that somehow cut through her fear: ‘You are safe, little mouse. You are here. It is over now.’

It will never be over. Ness wanted to tell him so, but she choked on her own silence. It had become a living thing, a suffocating presence that pressed in on her from all sides. At first, it had been a shield, a barrier against prying questions and the resurgence of terrible memories. But now, it was a prison, a place where her own thoughts amplified, distorted, and threatened to overwhelm her. Each creak of the floorboards, each rustle of the paper screens, was a potential threat, a reminder that she was utterly at the mercy of these strange men in this strange world. Who are they really? Are they kind? Are they just pretending? How long will they pretend for? And did any of that even matter? It wasn’t them she was worried about. John was the real threat. He would follow her. But then there was the thought that he was very far away in a place she could never reach. The fog. The world dissolving. The unanswerable questions of how and why. This is not right. This is not home. This is not my life. 

Her body ached, a dull, constant reminder of her injuries, but the pain was almost a comfort, something tangible to anchor her in the present. A flicker of restlessness grew, an urge to break the oppressive stillness. I need to do something or I will start screaming. She looked around the room, her gaze landing on the walls. Plain, unadorned paper stretched across the wooden frames, a blank canvas staring back at her. A sudden idea sparked, a desperate need to create, to imprint something of herself onto this silence.

Out of the brazier, she scrounged a charred piece of wood, imperfect but capable of leaving a mark. Her hand, still trembling from the retreating fever and the lingering ache of her injuries, lifted. It felt strange, alien, to create something in this place, on these foreign walls. But the need was a driving force, a silent scream demanding release. So… she began to draw.

Tiny, intricate shapes began to appear under her hand - shield knots. Each one a miniature fortress, a symbol of protection against unseen threats. She drew them close together, a continuous pattern of interlocking defenses. With each knot, she felt a tiny measure of control return, like she was building a personal shield against the overwhelming uncertainty of her world.

As more and more shield knots filled the wall, a larger pattern began to emerge, a grander design. All the small shields connected to create something greater than themselves, a unified defense. Strength, resilience, interconnectedness. It was a wordless declaration of her own strength, her ability to endure, even in her isolation. Time dissolved around her as she lost herself within the curving lines. The repetitive motion was a balm, a way to quiet the frantic thoughts that echoed through her hushed confinement. There was only the scratch of the charred wood on the paper, the formation of each knot, the slow reveal of the larger pattern.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the paper screens slide open with a soft rasp. Ieyasu stepped into the room, Mitsuhide a watchful presence at his back. The doctor paused, his usual brisk stride faltering as his sharp green eyes scanned the space. No doubt, he’d expected to find her in her usual position, perhaps feigning sleep or staring blankly at the wall, but instead, she was hunched over, her hand moving with a focused intensity across the paper screen. Mitsuhide’s amber eyes, usually so calm, flickered with a hint of surprise as he took in the scene - the wall covered in intricate, dark patterns, her complete absorption in her task. Neither man spoke, but she saw the unspoken question passing between them as they observed the unexpected deviation from her usual routine. Ness’ hand didn’t falter, the drawing continuing as if she hadn’t noticed their arrival, a silent, defiant act in the face of their intrusion.

Ieyasu retreated, just a few steps, the two of them gathering near the doorway in a silence only broken by the gentle scratching of her hand. Then, voices, low and hushed. 

「What is she doing?」 Ieyasu’s voice was tight, almost a growl. 「Is this some kind of… distraction?」

Mitsuhide’s response was even, calm, holding only a hint of amusement. 「It appears to be a drawing, Ieyasu.」

Ieyasu let out a frustrated, impatient noise. 「I can see that! But why? Why now? When we are asking for information, she produces… art?」

There was a long silence, then an almost inaudible sigh fell from Mitsuhide’s lips. 「We must be patient.」

「Patience,」 Ieyasu scoffed, his reply a sharp, irritated mutter under his breath. 「Yes, your constant reminders are proving remarkably effective, Mitsuhide. I feel my patience growing with each passing second.」

Laughter then, soft, silken, amused. Mitsuhide’s voice dropped to a whisper. 「This is significant, Ieyasu. It is progress even if you refuse to see it.」

「All I see is a delaying tactic.」 Ieyasu’s soft words were gruff, dismissive.

「Then look closer.」 There was something knowing in Mitsuhide’s calm, smooth voice. 「Look at her, Ieyasu. This is not a delay. It is… a deflection. Avoidance. She is lost in it. Completely absorbed.」

「Absorbed in what? Scribbling on the walls? This is not…」 Ieyasu stopped. Then, a slow, steady exhalation of breath. The voice that followed was calmer, considered. 「Where is the usual… resistance? The blank stares?」

「Perhaps this is a different form of resistance. Or… a different form of communication?」 She heard the subtle inflection in Mitsuhide’s voice, the gentle question, the thoughtful reflection.

「Communication? We need words, Mitsuhide. We need answers.」 Ieyasu stepped closer, back into her sight again, just a tense blur of bronze silk in the corner of her eye, peering at the unfolding drawing on the walls. 「What are these… shapes? They look like… like something I’ve seen on the Nanban. Some kind of holy symbol?」 He paused, as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. 「Like a… crux ?」

Mitsuhide finally stepped forward, following Ieyasu’s gaze, his amber eyes studying the patterns unfolding on the wall. He tilted his head just slightly, a tiny movement, but as they drew nearer every movement they made was a ripple through her focus, her calm, her absorption. 「Yes,」 Mitsuhide murmured, a thoughtful frown on his face. 「The missionaries use such a symbol. A crux. It’s a symbol of their faith. They believe it holds power.」

The foreign word, crux, drifted into Ness’ consciousness, another cut through the fog of her concentration. Crux. She knew that word. Latin for cross. A cross? Is that what they see? These symbols of protection, of strength, of… home, did they just look like a cross to these men from another world? It was jarring, to have them see something so… familiar, yet so wrong.

A small, quiet sound escaped her lips, a sound she hadn’t made in what felt like an eternity. “It’s not a cross.” 

She hadn’t meant to speak. The words were out before she could stop them, a quiet, almost defiant correction. She felt a jolt of surprise, a flicker of fear, but also… a strange sense of release. The silence was broken. Oh God, what have I done? But she couldn’t take it back now. The words hung in the air, a crack in her carefully constructed facade for them to peer through.

“I see you’ve found your voice again,” Mitsuhide spoke with slow, careful intention.

Ness sat back on her heels, a suppressed wince flickering across her face as a sharp ache shot through her muscles. The constant throb in her ribs seemed to amplify now that she had stilled. She risked a quick glance at the two men, her gaze meeting theirs for a fleeting moment, more direct than the furtive glances she’d been stealing from the corner of her eye. Then, her attention drifted back to the knots, her hand still hovering near the paper. Am I really going to do this? The question echoed in her mind.

A sigh broke free, a soft sound in the tense quiet of the room. Ness kept her eyes fixed on the wall before her, avoiding their expectant gazes. “Well,” she said, her voice quiet, almost casual, “you were being culturally insensitive.” 

Mitsuhide’s voice was a soft murmur, that carefully neutral tone he used when he translated her words. 「She distinguishes these shapes from those used by the missionaries. And I believe she is suggesting that we… are not treating the traditions of her birthplace with due respect.」 He paused, a moment of hesitation, and she felt that gaze on her  - so intent it was a tangible, physical sensation. 「One of her jokes, I think. She does not seem genuinely offended.」

Ieyasu’s voice was steady, controlled, as if he wasn’t built upon a foundation of frustration. 「Do the traditions of her birthplace require her to… draw upon my walls?」

“Ness,” Mitsuhide inquired gently, though she sensed a hint of something like amusement beneath, “Ieyasu wonders if… in your land, it is customary to record such things upon the walls of one’s residence?”

Her eyes traced the lines of a shield knot, makeshift charcoal rolling between her fingers, and she let out another barely audible sigh. “No. But it keeps my hand busy. And my mind… quiet.”

Then, Ness felt a wave of horror pour through her. Why did you say that? It was too much, too revealing. All this time, she’d held her silence, and now, with just a few words, everything was leaking out. And all of it was being translated in that soft, composed voice by Mitsuhide.

She took a shallow breath, trying to keep her expression neutral, to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. Then she turned her head, fixing her gaze upon them, the weight of her admission settling heavily in the room. Ieyasu’s posture was tense, his gaze intensely focused on her. Mitsuhide tilted his head, a calculating concern in those observant eyes. They were both trying to maintain their composure, but she saw the curiosity, the pity, slipping through the cracks.

The familiar, bitter taste of regret washed over her. A wry, self-deprecating smile touched her lips. “I could use the floor instead,” she said, her voice holding just the slightest sarcastic edge, “if you’d prefer?”

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, the muscles flexing visibly, and Ness could almost see the argument forming in his mind. Mitsuhide, however, remained remarkably still, studying her with a scrutinising gaze. There was a silent, almost imperceptible exchange between them - a flicker of Ieyasu’s eyes towards Mitsuhide, a slight, barely there shake of Mitsuhide’s head.

Mitsuhide adjusted his posture slightly, his diplomatic smile returning, though it held a different quality now - more controlled, more measured. Then he gestured with a subtle nod of his head towards the wall. “Those designs… are very striking, Ness. I cannot say I have seen such intricate patterns before.” The change in topic was an effortless redirection, shifting the focus onto something less… personal.

Ness turned her eyes back to the wall. “It’s a shield knot.” She lifted her hand and the gentle scratch of her working began again but the rhythmic ease was gone, the line curving less smoothly. “Well, lots of them, really. Interwoven. They’re a… sort of talisman, I suppose? They represent strength and… resilience.” She stopped, waving vaguely at the emerging, greater design. “When it's done though, it will be a Dara knot. It symbolises… inner fortitude. Enduring. Like the roots of the oak tree.”

“A shield knot,” Mitsuhide murmured thoughtfully, as if he was trying the words out for himself.

“In ancient times, warriors put them on their shields for protection. They’re supposed to keep you safe. To ward off evil.” Ness’ eyes scanned over the neat, curving rows, the endless shields, each with no beginning or end. Then she let out a soft, dark laugh. “It’s not working very well, is it?” Her gaze flicked sideways, her smile forced. 

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes softened just slightly. He exchanged a quick, silent glance with Ieyasu, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “Ness,” Mitsuhide began gently, his voice a low murmur that somehow cut through the tension, “is there… anything we can do for you?”

“No.” The word tripped off her tongue, a reflex born of years of self-reliance. But then, a different urge surfaced. “Wait. Yes.” She looked at them directly, her gaze intense, her usual defenses momentarily forgotten. “How long has it been?”

Ieyasu’s sharp green eyes held a fleeting trace of something like empathy, a rare crack in his detachment. Mitsuhide’s expression remained thoughtful, his mind no doubt already processing the implications of her question. They understood. It wasn’t a casual inquiry, no matter how simple the question. It was a plea for context, for a grounding in the relentless flow of time that had become so distorted for her.

Mitsuhide met her gaze with a calm, steady look of his own. “It’s been eight days since we met you,” he answered, his voice even and without inflection. “Your fever broke on the fourth day.”

Eight days. The number felt both impossibly long and startingly short. The hazy blur of fever had swallowed half those days whole, leaving her with no sense of their passing. The realisation hit her with a fresh wave of disorientation.

“The fever,” Ness repeated, the words a whisper on her lips. She looked down at her hand, the dark smudges of charred wood, then, tentatively, she met Mitsuhide’s eyes again. “How bad was it?”

A brief exchange passed between the two men. Then Ieyasu’s eyes fixed on her, his expression grim, a tension in his posture that spoke volumes.

“There were several times when Ieyasu… believed that you would not survive.” Mitsuhide’s tone was calm, almost matter-of-fact.

The words landed, not with a shock, but with a strange sense of detachment. Not survive. She had felt like she was dying. The burning, the dizziness, the blurring of reality - it had all felt like a slow, agonizing descent. She took a shallow breath, the ache in her ribs a constant, dull reminder of her weakness. She looked from Mitsuhide to Ieyasu, then back to the half-formed Dara knot on the wall. Inner fortitude. She was still here. She had endured.

Ness made no reply. Instead, her gaze dropped towards the space just below the pattern. Her hand moved with a steady determination, leaving marks on the plain paper. Eight lines - a set of five, then three more to signify the total. Eight days, eight days since I arrived here. She paused, the charred wood hovering above the wall. Half that time had been lost to the fever, and then the silence - an oppressive quiet that had felt endless but had only, apparently, lasted for four days. Four days? That’s really all you could manage? Fucking pathetic. 

She continued, adding another three lines, the three clear days she remembered in Tokyo before everything went sideways. Three more lines followed, a darker, heavier set, each mark a brutal reminder of the time with him, the time before she had lost all sense of time. Three. Three more. And then… Her hand stilled again. She knew it was more. She knew it. Her hand wavered, a tiny tremor shaking her fingers. There should be more lines. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, a dull, sickening certainty. But how many? How many days were lost? She stared at the wall, at the neat groupings of five, the scattered extras, the clear representation of days she knew versus the emptiness of the days she didn’t. Will I ever know? She didn’t add any more lines. She couldn’t. The truth, the terrifying uncertainty, held her hand frozen.

The silence in the room had shifted, become something sharper, more acute. She knew they were still there, Ieyasu and Mitsuhide. Every rustle of their robes, every soft breath, was a sound amplified in the stillness. Her gaze remained fixed on the marks on the wall, but her senses were stretched taut, acutely aware of their positions in the room. Mitsuhide, she imagined, was still near the doorway, his eyes observant and measuring. Ieyasu, she could feel him there, a presence like a held breath, closer, his energy a prickle on her skin.

「She needs two more. At least two.」 Ieyasu’s voice was a low, gruff rumble through the quiet room that drew Ness’ gaze. Those sharp, green eyes were fixed on the lines she’d drawn.

Mitsuhide’s eyes flicked from the wall to Ieyasu, then a subtle tilt of his head, and a soft, thoughtful murmur. 「What she needs, Ieyasu, is certainty.」

A muscle in Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, his gaze growing distant and hard. 「The only one who can give her that… is him. He’s the only one who knows.」 There was a darkness to the physician’s voice that sent a shiver through her.

Mitsuhide let out a faint sigh that sounded almost… weary. His gaze dropped for a moment before returning to Ieyasu’s with a somber weight. 「Yes. And in that knowing, he holds a power over her still. Perhaps he always will.」

Something in the low, intense exchange between the two men sent a chill through her. It was the weight of their voices, the gravity in their postures, that made her feel exposed and cold. She looked away from them, her gaze drifting back to the shield knots on the wall. Her hand, still holding the charred wood, lifted - a silent signal of her retreat to a world where the curving lines offered a semblance of control and a barrier against the unsettling reality of her situation.

Then, a shadow shifted just behind her. Ieyasu’s footsteps were soundless, but there was a ripple in the air as he moved closer, the hint of a faint, familiar scent - smoke and spice, something subtly medicinal. She felt the invisible line he crossed when he entered her personal space. It was as if her skin had grown sensitive, picking up every nuance of their proximity.

A low sigh, barely audible, and then a gruff voice, close, too close. 「Enough of this.」 Ieyasu’s voice was tight with something she couldn’t quite identify - irritation? Concern? Then he strode across the room, his movements as purposeful as always, and she twisted, her gaze tracking his progress. At the wall, he reached out, his hand finding a latch she hadn’t even noticed, and with a quiet click, he slid open a section of the paper screen that she hadn’t realised was there. 「You need a change of scenery.」 

Behind it, where she’d expected only more wall, was… something else. A breath of fresh air, a hint of damp earth, and the soft rustle of leaves. Beyond the screen was not another room but the light of day - and she could hear the very faint trickle of what must be water. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the difference in light. And then she realised it was some sort of garden, waiting past Ieyasu’s silent, imposing figure.

Then, Mitsuhide moved, his footsteps a whisper across the tatami, but she was aware of every step as he came closer. He stopped just to her side, his presence a different kind of energy - less sharp than Ieyasu’s, more… calm. He didn’t speak immediately, his amber eyes taking in the wall, the lines, the shield knots, and then, finally, settling on her. His hand extended towards her, a silent offer to help her rise. His voice was low, gentle, and carried the soft weight of a question, “Shall we see the garden, Ness?”

Chapter Text

Ness’ gaze flicked from Mitsuhide’s outstretched hand to his face, searching for a hint of what lay beneath that unreadable expression. He wasn’t demanding, not like Ieyasu could be. He was offering, inviting, and in that, she found the subtle difference of… choice. Tentatively, she reached out. Her fingers brushed against his, a brief, almost electric contact that made her breath catch. His hand was cool, steady, and he didn’t grip, didn’t pull - simply held firm as she used it as an anchor to push herself up from her crouched position. Her body flared in protest, a sharp reminder of her own weakness, but she ignored it, her focus solely on the open screen that beckoned.

As soon as she was standing, Ness let go of Mitsuhide’s steady hand. The brief touch, while helpful, was too much. She needed space. She needed to breathe, to think. She took a shaky step forward, away from him, towards the open screen. She passed Ieyasu slowly, the proximity making her acutely aware of his presence, his energy, but he didn’t speak, didn’t move to impede her. 

She stepped out on the wooden planks, warm beneath her feet from the sunlight that streamed into the walled garden. A sudden wave of lightheadedness, but she steadied herself, breathing in the fresh air that carried a dizzying cornucopia of scents - damp earth, crushed leaves, the perfumes of a dozen blooming species. Ness stared at the garden, the breath catching painfully in her throat. This was no manicured, ornamental garden like the ones she’d glimpsed on her arrival. It was a working garden, a literal treasure trove of medicinal plants. It was wilder, more natural, less controlled. It was… real. A space where things grew, not for beauty alone, but for a purpose, a function, a deeper meaning. Every plant was a potential remedy, a source of healing. The sight was so unexpectedly comforting, so intensely familiar amidst the strangeness of this new world, that a genuine smile bloomed on her face.

Ieyasu, his sharp green eyes watching her closely, gestured towards a cushion on the terrace. 「Sit,」 he commanded, his voice gruff but with a hint of something softer beneath. 「Take the air. Do not overexert yourself.」  Mitsuhide’s voice translated from close behind, a touch of amusement at Ieyasu’s predictable instructions.

Ness, however, had other ideas. The urge to explore, to see what secrets this medicinal sanctuary held, was too strong to resist. Even as Ieyasu was still issuing his orders, she was already moving, waving her good hand vaguely in the air. “I think I can handle a little walking.” She stopped at the edge of the terrace, scanning the rows upon rows of plants, some familiar, some far less so. Gentiana scabra. Aralia cordata. Camellia japonica. Artemisia vulgaris, the distinctive feathered leaves bursting from a carefully tended patch. Viola odorata. Wait. What? Her foot lifted from the terrace and then Ieyasu’s irritated voice cut through the air again.

「Oh, please do ignore the instructions of your physician. It’s not as if you just almost died.」  The gruff tone had lost whatever hint of softness she had imagined. 「I’ll just follow the bloody footprints when I need to retrieve you, shall I?」

Then a hand came into view, long, elegant fingers that were far stronger than they looked, Mitsuhide’s soft, amused voice accompanying it. “Ieyasu says-”

“If you’re just going to give me the gist again, I think I’ve got it already.” She interrupted him before he could translate, dry amusement in her voice. Then she reached out, using just the briefest touch of his cool hand to steady her as she stepped off the terrace, pain spiking through her legs.

The warm stones of the pathway were uncomfortable beneath her bandaged feet, but she ignored it. Her focus was entirely on the glazed ceramic pot, tucked away in a corner, bathed in a ray of sunlight. And in the pot, Viola odorata. The sweet violet.

It was utterly, completely unexpected. A small, delicate flower, so familiar, so home, sitting there in the heart of this foreign medicinal garden. It looked utterly out of place amongst the exotic flora. Ness felt a tug, a flicker of recognition that went beyond mere identification. It was a common thing, back home, a weed almost. But here, it was treated like a prize, a rare orchid in its own right. The thought was jarring.

She reached the pot and crouched down, her good hand pressing against her side for a moment as a sharp stab of pain shot through her. Her breath hitched, but she ignored it, focusing on the plant. The leaves were a little limp, the delicate purple petals slightly faded. She reached out a bandaged finger, gently touching a leaf, tracing its velvety texture.

“I see you’re just as far from home as I am,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, low enough that she thought only the plant could hear. “And they don’t know what to do with you either, huh?” She examined the plant closer, noting the subtle signs of distress. Sweet violets preferred dappled shade, the cool shelter of woodland edges. Not this harsh, unrelenting glare. “You’re feeling a little bit too exposed, I see. I know the feeling.”

「Are you trying to make things worse?」 Ieyasu’s voice was sharper now, tinged with impatience.

“Would you like some help back to the terrace, Ness?” Mitsuhide made his offer quietly from a step behind her, the respectful distance he had kept this entire time.

I suppose we’re going whether I take the help or not? She restrained the sigh. The limited nature of the choice was stark, but the alternative - Ieyasu’s escalating temper and her own throbbing feet - was less appealing. She extended her bandaged hand and Mitsuhide’s cool, steady fingers closed around hers, a firm anchor. She didn’t let go immediately this time; the unexpected need for stability was a quiet humiliation. He didn’t comment on her grip, simply held fast as he gently guided her back towards the terrace.

As they walked, Mitsuhide directed a low question towards Ieyasu, still standing by the open screen. 「What do you know about this plant, Ieyasu?」

Ieyasu made a soft, almost thoughtful noise. 「Not much,」 he admitted, his voice gruff. 「The trader claimed it came from ‘the end of the world’. Medicinal, apparently.」 He paused, a flicker of skepticism in his eyes. 「I’m not convinced. It’s a fragile thing.」

「The end of the world, you say?」 Mitsuhide’s voice was thoughtful, his gaze drifting back to the violet for a moment before returning to Ieyasu. 「An intriguing claim. Do all your plants have such… unique histories?」

Ieyasu tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly. 「Define ‘unique’.」

Mitsuhide laughed then, a soft, faint murmur of amusement, his gaze flicking towards her for the briefest moment before returning to Ieyasu. 「The living, breathing embodiment of the term is right here, is it not?」

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. A tense stillness settled over him, as if he were suppressing a sharp retort. 

The air crackled with a tension she couldn’t decipher, but she knew she was at its center. Mitsuhide’s glance. Ieyasu’s intent gaze. They were clearly talking about her, again. Mitsuhide’s laugh had felt… off, somehow. It wasn’t quite friendly. There was a strange flicker in his eyes, as if this was some kind of game, a way to get a rise out of the other man. But is Ieyasu playing too? It was as if every shift in their posture, every breath, every glance exchanged between them, held a hidden meaning she was desperate to uncover.

They reached the terrace and Mitsuhide gently guided Ness towards a thick, woven cushion placed near the edge. She sank onto it, the relief on her aching feet immediate. Mitsuhide settled smoothly to her left, his presence calm and unobtrusive. Ieyasu, after a moment’s hesitation, took a seat to her right, his posture more rigid, his sharp green eyes still fixed on her. The silence that followed was heavy, the unspoken question hanging in the air, the one they had been circling for days.

She looked at Mitsuhide, those amber eyes meeting hers with a soft, placid expression that she was beginning to see through. “I see what you’re doing, you know,” she said, her voice low, cutting through the silence.

Mitsuhide’s voice was carefully neutral, “Oh? And what is it that you think we are doing, Ness?”

“Using my silence against me,” she said, her voice quiet, with just a hint of frustration she could not suppress. “Matching it. You wanted to make me anxious? Well… you succeeded.” 

Mitsuhide’s expression didn’t change, not a flicker of surprise or irritation. He simply inclined his head slightly. “Are you now willing to speak with us?” he asked softly, his tone conversational, as if her directness was not at all a challenge.

Ness let out a short, humourless laugh. “That depends on what you want to know.”

“You understand what we want to know, Ness.” Mitsuhide’s voice remained gentle, but there was a subtle shift, a firmness beneath the soft exterior.

“You don’t really want to know that,” Ness retorted, a flash of annoyance heating her chest. “You’re both already rattled, and by what? A few murmurs in my sleep?” She gestured vaguely between the two men with her bandaged hand, the movement a little more emphatic than she intended.

Ieyasu, who had been silently observing the exchange, listening to Mitsuhide’s careful translations, finally spoke, his voice gruff. 「We are not children, Ness. We can handle difficult truths.」

Ness turned her gaze to him, carefully assessing the expression on his face. “But… can I? You understand what you’re asking of me, right?”

A moment of silence followed her question, the weight of her words hanging in the air, a stark reminder of the delicate line they were treading. There was a flicker in Ieyasu’s gaze, something that looked almost like discomfort.

Mitsuhide broke the silence, his voice soft, a counterpoint to the tension. “Ness, we understand it is difficult. We are not asking you to relive it all at once.”

“Piece by piece, then? How… appropriate.” There was a heavy darkness in her voice, a knowing, painful awareness, as her gaze flicked between the two men. They had seen the state of her injuries; they knew. The unspoken horror of her past hung between them, a tangible weight.

Ieyasu interjected, his voice firm and authoritative, not a command but… close. 「Hiding from it will not make it disappear. Better to face what is necessary.」

Ness turned her focus back to Ieyasu, a flicker of defiance burning deep within her. “Is that your professional opinion?” she challenged, her voice low, “Or just your curiosity talking?”

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He seemed to visibly restrain himself, his sharp green eyes holding Ness’ challenging gaze. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken frustration. 

A strong sense of weariness settled over her. Don’t let them set the terms, Ness. You set them. She took a slow breath, the pain in her side a dull ache, her eyes focusing on the garden. “I suppose I need to be clear.” Her voice was low, but carried a new firmness. “I will not answer questions about… about what happened.” Even speaking the words caused a phantom throb through her arm, a visceral reminder of why the subject was off-limits.

Mitsuhide, after a moment of consideration, tilted his head slightly. “You will not answer,” he began, his voice carefully neutral, “but you do not tell us not to ask?”

A dark, humourless laugh escaped her lips. “Maybe I’m a realist?” she replied, her voice tinged with bitter amusement. “After all, the question appears to be your default mode of communication.” Ness let out a heavy sigh, her gaze drifting towards his face. “Or perhaps it’s the ambush?” She held his gaze, a silent challenge, as the weight of her unspoken meaning settled between them.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide began, his tone gentle, “I did not intend-”

Ness cut him off sharply. “To get a reaction? The reaction was the point, surely.”

Mitsuhide paused, those amber eyes meeting hers with a steady gaze. “I assure you,” he said, “My intentions were simply to understand your circumstances better. I had no desire to cause you such distress.”

Ness’ gaze skipped away, down to her bandaged hand, then back up to meet his. Her eyes narrowed slightly. He says he didn’t intend distress, but he danced all around admitting he wanted a reaction. Then, an almost inaudible, frustrated sigh pulled her eyes back to Ieyasu.

Ieyasu’s gaze remained fixed on her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. 「We are trying to help you,」 he stated, his voice still gruff, but with an underlying edge of exasperation. 

“I did not ask for help, did I?” Ness met his gaze with a bluntness that surprised even herself.

Mitsuhide paused in his translation, as if he sensed the conversation spiraling again. He stepped in, his voice calm and measured, subtly shifting the focus. “But is that required, Ness? To ask for help?” He paused, and her eyes shifted sideways to meet that penetrating gaze. “Lord Nobunaga did not ask for help before you saved him.”

Ness scoffed, a harsh sound that was more pain than humour. “It’s not like I dragged him from the building. He could have stayed behind and burned if he really wanted to.”

Mitsuhide’s voice softened, a gentle probe. “And is that what you want, Ness?”

A beat of silence followed. Perhaps that might have been better. But Ness’ fierce will to survive, the very core of her being, recoiled at the thought. To give up, to burn, to cease to exist… it was tempting, but it was anathema to her. 

Ness paused, hesitation holding her frozen, but then the words spilled free. “I want to be able to close my eyes without seeing it. I want to stop trying to make sense of something that… makes no sense. What I want… what I desperately want… is not to have to think about any of it.”

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He didn’t speak, but his rigid posture seemed to tighten further, like a man wrestling with an unexpected wave of discomfort. On her other side, Mitsuhide’s placid expression remained carefully neutral, yet there was a flicker of intense observation, as if his mind was rapidly processing the strategic implications of her honesty. 

Neither man moved, the unspoken question of whether they would acquiesce to her terms remaining unanswered. Unconsciously, her good hand rose, a familiar impulse guiding her bandaged fingers to where a long ponytail should have been. It was a motion she’d performed countless times to soothe herself, to gather her thoughts. But her fingers found only air, the jarring absence a stark reminder. A dark, humourless half-smile touched her lips, a flicker of grim bemusement.

Then they both shifted, their eyes meeting above her head. Ieyasu let out an almost inaudible sigh, the sound a subtle punctuation to his words. 「Very well. We play her game. For now.」 His voice held grudging acceptance. 

Mitsuhide gave a small nod. 「For now.」 

「But this…」 Ieyasu leaned slightly closer, his eyes intense. 「This isn’t permanent. Understand?」

「Perfectly.」 Mitsuhide met that intense gaze, his expression calm and assured. 

There was an almost imperceptible softening as those knowing, amber eyes came back to her face. “We understand, Ness,” he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to absorb the tension in the air rather than add to it. “For now, we will respect your… terms.” Mitsuhide paused, letting the weight of his words settle, his gaze steady on hers. “But,” he continued, a subtle shift in his tone, a quiet intensity that was more potent than any shout, “our concern for your well-being remains. And when you are ready… we will be here to listen.”

Ness’ gaze slipped away from his, her eyes drifting over the garden. She appreciated the shift, the temporary reprieve, but she wasn’t naive. This was a pause, not a surrender. Still, she had a little more ground to claim.

“Good,” Ness murmured in a low and steady voice, “because I have more terms.” She paused, taking a slow breath. “No more ambushes. No more dropping names like… like stones in a pond, just to see the ripples.” She felt the urge to look, to see their faces, to gauge their reactions, but she resisted. “And… no more speaking about me as if I am not present. I may not understand, but I am not a fool. It’s… impolite. Do it behind my back like civilised people.”

She risked a quick glance then. Mitsuhide inclined his head, a subtle acknowledgement. Ieyasu, on her other side, remained rigid, but his sharp green eyes held a silent, intense communication.

“Ieyasu,” Ness continued, her gaze shifting towards his face, “despite what you seem to believe, I assure you that my physical recovery is my priority. I will listen to your medical advice regarding my injuries but… I will not be commanded.” 

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but he didn’t speak. Ness moved her attention back to Mitsuhide’s unchanging, placid expression. She met his gaze steadily, despite the tremor in her hand and the frantic beating of her heart against her throbbing rib cage.

“And to facilitate that,” Ness hesitated for just a moment before continuing, her voice firm, “I need you to stop softening Ieyasu’s words when you translate them.”

A moment of silence followed, no translation filling the gap. Mitsuhide’s carefully neutral expression finally cracked, a flicker of something unreadable - perhaps surprise, perhaps a grudging admiration - crossing his face before he quickly regained his composure. “You… you wish for me to translate Ieyasu’s words precisely as he speaks them?” he asked, his voice carefully measured, a subtle test in his tone.

“Precisely,” Ness confirmed, holding that gaze. “No… filtering. No making them sound more palatable. Just the words, as he says them. To the best of your ability, of course.”

「What is she saying now, Mitsuhide?」 Ieyasu looked from Ness to Mitsuhide, his gruff voice holding just a hint of irritation.

Mitsuhide’s eyes flicked to Ieyasu for just a moment before returning to Ness. He took a small breath, and then, with a subtle shift in his demeanor, he spoke softly. 「Ness asks,」 he relayed to Ieyasu, his tone flat and direct, 「that I endeavour to ensure more accuracy in the translation of your words.」  

The effect on Ieyasu was immediate and striking. He stared at Mitsuhide, then back at Ness, a dawning comprehension in those sharp, green eyes. 「Why would she ask that?」

Mitsuhide tilted his head, that voice still so carefully neutral. 「She… believes that I am softening your words.」

「Are you?」 Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed, not with annoyance at Mitsuhide this time, but with a sudden, pointed suspicion. 

Mitsuhide gave a slight shrug. There was the slightest twitch of his lips, that faint, ever-present smile twisting with a subtle, mischievous amusement. 「I believe that I have conveyed your intentions accurately at all times.」

「My… intentions.」 Ieyasu’s voice was low, a dangerous quiet replacing his usual gruffness. 「I see. And… have you been doing the same thing with her words? With Ness’ words?」 He gestured towards Ness with a slight tilt of his head, his untranslated words hanging heavy in the air.   

Mitsuhide met Ieyasu’s intense gaze, his own expression unreadable. The carefully constructed facade he maintained so effortlessly seemed to waver, just a fraction, before settling back into place. 「Her language,」  Mitsuhide began, his voice calm and measured, a subtle counterpoint to Ieyasu’s tension, 「is… often challenging to comprehend. I do not possess a complete understanding of her lexicon.」 He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. 「I am often required to infer meaning from the surrounding context.」

Ieyasu made a soft, thoughtful noise that sounded… displeased. But, once again, they were talking without translating, allowing her to guess, to wonder. She let out a sigh, fixing her gaze on Mitsuhide, and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Ieyasu asks if I believe my translations of your words are accurate,” he explained in that carefully neutral tone. “I have explained that you use many words and phrases that are unfamiliar to me. I must sometimes… interpret based on what I do understand and the situation at hand.”

A sense of unease took root in Ness’ gut. The idea of being “interpreted”, of having her words and thoughts and feelings summarised by Mitsuhide, grated against her already raw nerves. She took a slow, steady breath, her gaze flicking between the two men. “In that case,” Ness stated, her voice low and firm, cutting through the lingering tension, “let me extend my request for precision to my own words. I do not wish to be… summarised.”

A beat of silence followed the translation of her declaration. Mitsuhide’s placid expression remained unreadable, but Ieyasu’s rigid posture seemed to loosen, just a fraction. Then, a low sound rumbled in his chest, a sound that was completely unexpected in the tense atmosphere. 

Ieyasu was laughing.

It wasn’t a loud, boisterous laugh, but a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle. He shook his head slightly, a small, wry smile playing on his lips as he looked from Mitsuhide to Ness. 「You really are something else, Ness,」 he murmured, his voice still gruff but with a new undercurrent of amusement. 「And it’s far more amusing, I admit, when he, 」 he gestured subtly towards Mitsuhide, 「is on the receiving end of your… terms.」

Ness stared at Ieyasu, utterly taken aback. That sound, that low chuckle, was so unexpected. She hadn’t heard him laugh before, not like that, genuine and… almost relaxed. It threw her completely off balance, a jarring sensation that sent a ripple of discomfort through her injured side. She’d anticipated a greater struggle from him, a more rigid resistance to her demands. It was Mitsuhide who always appeared to be the one to bend, to flow, but Ieyasu was the rigid one, wasn’t he? The surprise broke through her carefully constructed neutrality before she could stop it.

“Huh,” she blurted out softly, her voice tinged with genuine bewilderment. “I thought he’d be more annoyed.”

Mitsuhide’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes held a sharper glint as he met her gaze. “What makes you think he isn’t?” he replied smoothly, his tone light but with an edge of something she couldn’t quite decipher. His voice didn’t hold irritation, or correction. But it wasn’t a joke either. It was something else. Something like… a warning.

Ieyasu’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. The amusement from moments before vanished, replaced by a steely intensity. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his posture rigid. 「Ness,」 Ieyasu’s voice was a low growl, cutting through tense silence. 「In any arrangement, there must be an exchange. You make demands, but you offer nothing. That is not negotiation. And it will not be tolerated indefinitely.」

Ness met his intense gaze. The words hung in the air, a direct challenge to her carefully constructed boundaries. Her jaw tightened, a clenching that sent a dull ache through her temple. She knew he was right, in a way. She was dictating, not negotiating. But the thought of conceding, of opening up the topic of her trauma, was unbearable. If it’s so intolerable, then you can let me go. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, desperate to escape, but she held them back. A purely defiant answer would get her nowhere. 

She took a slow breath, the effort of maintaining her composure, of holding back the ever-present fatigue, almost as taxing as the pain itself. “You’re right. A one-sided list of demands isn’t a conversation,” she said, her voice steady, her gaze shifting between Ieyasu and Mitsuhide. “So… if we can agree that certain subjects are off-limits, then I’m not opposed to talking about other things.”

A beat of silence followed, the weight of her concession hanging in the air. It was a risk, offering even this much, but it felt like a necessary step. A way to assert her humanity, her right to be seen as more than just her trauma. Not a puzzle to be solved, or a challenge to be overcome, but… a person.

Ieyasu maintained his intense gaze on her for a long moment, his jaw still tight. There was a clear struggle in those eyes. He then shifted his gaze, slowly, almost reluctantly, towards Mitsuhide. For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them. Ieyasu’s expression remained stern, almost a scowl, but a subtle shift occurred. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a miniscule easing of his tension.

Mitsuhide offered a nearly imperceptible nod, just the barest dip of his chin. Ieyasu’s eyes flicked back to her for a moment, a brief flare of something - perhaps resignation, perhaps calculation - before he turned his head away, fixing his gaze on the garden. Neither of them spoke a word. But the exchange, subtle as it was, carried its own weight. It was a silent declaration. They were accepting her terms, but it was an acceptance born of necessity, not acquiescence. The undercurrent of their dissatisfaction, their desire for more, was still palpable. They were far from done.

Mitsuhide, his gaze still calm and steady, turned his attention back to the glazed ceramic pot tucked away in the corner. “That plant,” he began, his voice a low murmur that drew Ness’ eyes to the violet as well. “It immediately attracted your attention amongst all these other plants. The trader who sold it to Ieyasu claimed it was from ‘the end of the world’.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, a subtle invitation to engage. To act on her concession.

Ness took a slow, shallow breath. “The end of the world?” she repeated softly. “That’s a matter of perspective, don’t you think?”

“Perspective?” Mitsuhide echoed quietly.

“For the people at the end of the world, it is the beginning.” Ness smiled, though it was more wistful than amused. She looked at the delicate purple petals of the sweet violet, a sudden wave of homesickness washing over her. “We are both a long way from where we belong.”

Mitsuhide’s soft, neutral expression didn’t change but the intensity in his eyes deepened, a silent acknowledgement of her unexpected candor in the face of his subtle probing. “Does this plant have a name, Ness?”

“The sweet violet,” she murmured. “Viola odorata. It’s so strange to see it in a pot like it’s… a prize orchid. Back home… they’re just everywhere. A weed, almost.”

Ieyasu made a soft, thoughtful noise. 「A weed?」 he echoed, his gruff voice holding a hint of surprise.

“Yes,” Ness said, turning her gaze back to the men. “But here… it’s treated like a treasure. Like something rare and special.”

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes met hers, and there was something else in that gaze, something that went beyond mere curiosity. “Perhaps it is,” he said softly. “It seems… out of place, doesn’t it? Amongst all the common flora.”

Ieyasu, his sharp green eyes fixed on the violet, finally spoke. There was a new undercurrent of interest in his voice. 「You say it’s from your homeland,」 Ieyasu began, his gaze shifting from the plant to her. 「The trader also claimed it was medicinal. I have found no obvious properties. Is he correct? Does this… weed… have medicinal uses?」

Ness met Ieyasu’s gaze, carefully assessing. She saw the genuine interest there. The garden itself was a testament to his dedication, a shared language they could speak, however haltingly. It was an opportunity, a chance to connect over something safe.

“It’s known for… certain properties,” Ness confirmed, her voice soft, meeting Ieyasu’s gaze. “It’s not a strong medicine but people use it for… for calming, sometimes. For minor ailments.” She didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer a detailed explanation of how it was used.

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened slightly, but the skepticism in his eyes seemed to lessen, replaced by a thoughtful intensity. He didn’t immediately respond, his gaze drifting back to the small violet in the pot, as if re-evaluating the trader’s claim in light of this new, albeit limited, information.

“It is common,” Ness continued tentatively, surprising herself, “but… people still value it. The flowers… they have a lovely scent. They’re used to make perfume. And… sometimes people eat them. Dipped in sugar. Candied violets.” 

Mitsuhide arched one perfect, white eyebrow, a flicker of something like surprise in his eyes. “Sugared? That must be quite the delicacy, given the value of sugar.”

Ness felt a familiar prickle of annoyance at herself. Of course, sugar. Another seemingly innocent detail from her time that was anything but here. She forced a casual shrug, trying to downplay the significance. “Oh, well… yes. It is. A small treat, you know? Not something… everyday.” She gestured vaguely at the wilting purple flowers, trying to shift the focus away from the cost of sugar and back to the plant itself. “Though… this one will not last long enough for any of that.”

「Not last long?」 Ieyasu echoed, his gruff voice laced with a physician’s concern. He leaned forward, his gaze assessing the plant with a practiced eye. 「Is it diseased? Or is it simply… out of its season?」 He glanced back at her, a silent question in his gaze, clearly expecting her to elaborate.

Her shoulders slumped just slightly, a subtle shift in her posture that spoke volumes about her own weariness. Her gaze softened as she looked at the delicate violet, a mirror of her own fragile state. “It’s too exposed,” she murmured, her voice quiet, almost a whisper, as if speaking more to the plant than the men. “It… needs shelter to thrive.”

She didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain the feeling that tugged at her, the echo of vulnerability she saw in the wilting leaves. The words hung in the air, carrying a weight that she had not intended. Ieyasu shifted slightly, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes, as if he had grasped the unspoken. Mitsuhide tilted his head, his gaze lingering on her with a quiet intensity, as if he were piecing together a puzzle she hadn’t realised she was revealing.

Mitsuhide’s gaze drifted back to the violet. “Intriguing,” he murmured. “A common thing, from the end of the world, with hidden properties… much like its companion, perhaps?” He didn’t look at her when he said this, but the implication hung in the air, a subtle, carefully worded probe. It wasn’t an interrogation, not in the usual sense, but it was a way of asking without asking, of inviting her to reveal more without demanding it.

A dry laugh fell from Ness’ lips. “Apparently, ‘common’ is a highly subjective term in this particular garden.”

Oh, for fucks’s sake. Stop talking, Ness. Just stop. A faint prickle of sweat formed on her forehead, a cold wave of anxiety making her muscles tense further. She’d given them too much. The sugar, the perfume, the shelter. Each word felt like a thread unravelling, exposing more of her than she wanted them to see. She could feel their eyes on her, sharp and assessing, piecing together the fragments she’d carelessly scattered. She needed to pull back, to create some space before she said something she’d truly regret, something that would give everything away.

She looked at the violet again, then back at the men. The tension hadn’t completely dissipated, but it had shifted. A tentative understanding built over a displaced flower. Ness offered another small, tired smile. “Forgive me,” she said, her voice softer, more subdued than before, a slight wince hidden as she shifted her weight. “But I think… I need to rest now.”

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed, his expression becoming less guarded, more focused, the way it did when he shifted from warlord to physician. Assessing her with that clinical detachment that still unnerved her. He extended his hand, palm upward, the gesture straightforward and devoid of flourish. A practical offer of assistance. Normally it would be Mitsuhide, she thought, a flicker of surprise at the unexpected change. But he was on her left, and her left hand… the lingering ache was a constant reminder of its uselessness. She hesitated, then reached out her right hand, the action deliberately slow and controlled, trying to steel herself for the contact. Just don’t start trembling. Her hand brushed his and she pushed herself up, trying to conceal the signs of pain rippling across her expression.

Ieyasu’s sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment. His voice held an authoritative note when he finally spoke. 「Rest, yes,」 he said, those eyes meeting hers with an unwavering intensity. 「But rest means rest, Ness. No more… drawing on the walls. Understood?」

Ieyasu’s gruff instruction hung in the air, echoed by Mitsuhide’s words, a clear boundary set. Ness met his gaze, offering a small, non-committal nod. Understood? The words were a challenge, a test of her resolve. She had said she would listen, but she had also drawn a line: she would not be commanded. And the shield knots… oh, the shield knots were a balm. They took the thoughts away, the swirling anxieties, the sting of unintentional revelations. The temptation was a physical ache.

She turned away from the men, her back a silent statement, and her eyes fell on the faint lines of her last attempt. Just one more. The thought was a whisper, a dangerous lure. She moved slowly back to her spot on the floor, and settled to her knees, every aching muscle complaining. Her good hand reached for the discarded piece of burned wood. The scratching sound began again, soft at first, then growing in intensity as she lost herself in the intricate pattern. The distinct sound of her renewed defiance carried clearly. 

A long, drawn-out sigh of frustration drifted from the terrace, unmistakably Ieyasu. A low, soft laugh followed his sigh, equally distinct and carrying a clear note of amusement - Mitsuhide, finding the entire exchange highly entertaining.

But she ignored them, letting the rhythmic motion of her hand begin to soothe her. The shield knots were calling, and Ness, for now, was answering.

Chapter Text

The soft rustle of cloth was the first sound that registered. Mai, a figure of quiet efficiency, moved through the room like a whisper, the morning light filtering through the screens painting her silhouette in muted gold. Ness stirred, a low groan escaping her as she pushed back against the lingering tendrils of a dream she couldn’t quite recall, only the faint echo of unease. Had he been here? The thought settled, heavy and familiar. She couldn’t always remember what happened at night, the terror and panic blurring until it was hard to discern reality. And Ieyasu never mentioned it, as if it didn’t happen at all.

Mai’s voice, soft and respectful, broke the silence. 「Lady Ness, it is time.」

Ness shook the thoughts away and pushed herself up with a hiss of pained breath. The movement was deliberate, her body protesting, each shift of weight a small negotiation with the pain in her side. Her legs, stronger now, covered in slivers of new, pink skin, swung over the edge of the futon. As her feet found the cool floor, her gaze fell downwards. There, stark against the pale mat, was a small, dark stain. Blood.

For a long moment, the world narrowed to that single undeniable mark. The air left her lungs in a silent rush, but her expression remained carefully blank. She simply stared. She had been counting. Tracking the relentless march of days on the wall, each line a tiny victory against the blur of her trauma. And as the lines accumulated, a new, terrifying possibility had begun to take root, a seed of dread she had desperately tried to bury. Another thing to avoid, another potential consequence of the horrors.

But now… now there was blood.

A wave of dizzying relief swept through her, so overwhelming it made her sway, her legs threatening to give way beneath her. It was a reprieve, a profound, almost terrifying lightness in the suffocating darkness. She choked back the surge of emotion, her breath catching as she forced her features into a mask of rigid indifference. Don’t cry, Ness. Don’t let them see it. Not ever.

Mai, observant but discreet, offered a quiet, 「Do you require assistance, my lady?」

Ness didn’t understand everything, not even most of it, but her offer was clear. She shook her head, a barely perceptible movement. 「No. Thank you, Mai.」 Her voice was flat, the words practised, betraying nothing.

Mai simply inclined her head. She finished her work, moving with quiet efficiency as Ness, in a detached haze, began the motions of her morning routine. Mai laid out her simple clothes, water and cloth, and a small silk pouch. She lingered until Ness was finished, quietly taking the water and bloodied cloth. Then she adjusted the screen, and departed with a final, soft murmur, leaving Ness alone in the quiet room.

The moment the screen slid shut, Ness’ carefully held composure cracked, like a delicate fissure appearing in hardened glass. She didn’t hesitate. She moved to the wall, where her shield knots still guarded the paper, where the lines marked the relentless passage of time.

She knelt, the ache in her knees almost a comfort, a grounding sensation. She lifted a piece of charcoal, her hand hovering over the wall. She had been here for fifteen days, marking each one with a deliberate stroke. Today would be the sixteenth. A new line, another victory. But this wasn’t just any day. And as the black mark extended across the white paper, the emotion she had so fiercely suppressed finally broke free. It wasn’t a burst, but a silent, relentless welling up, an almost physical ache of release. Her shoulders began to tremble, a shudder running through her frame. Her head bowed, resting against the cool paper, and then the tears came.

She wept quietly, her face pressed against the wall, the sound muffled by the paper and the rustling leaves of the distant garden. She didn’t know how long she knelt there, before the stark lines of her survival, in a world that had just offered her an unexpected gift. But, eventually, the tears slowed, stopped, leaving her feeling raw but lighter than she had in weeks.

She was still kneeling there, breathing the cool air that drifted in from the garden, when the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path announced Mitsuhide’s arrival for their morning lesson. The sound of his approach through the garden was familiar, a predictable part of her structured days. He would expect to find her waiting, but she wasn’t there.

His footsteps paused at the edge of the terrace, the soft crunch ceasing. She could feel his presence, arriving at the open screen door, his unnerving perception taking in everything. She knew he would see the lingering redness around her eyes, the slight tremble in her hand, the shift in her posture. He would know . She took a shaky breath, the action sending a dull throb through her injured side. She wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve, a futile attempt to erase the evidence of her tears. She tried to collect herself, to rebuild the mask of weary indifference, but it felt heavier than before.

Mitsuhide didn’t call out from the doorway, didn’t intrude with a verbal greeting. Instead, he stepped through the open screen, a whisper of movement, a rustle of silk breaching the lingering silence. Without a word, without a demand, he made his way to his usual spot for the lesson, settling onto a cushion near the edge of the room. His presence was calm and unobtrusive, a silent anchor in the space. He was simply present, a strategic move that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

The silence stretched. Mitsuhide made no demands, offered no explanations, simply waited, a tactic Ness was all too familiar with from his earliest visits. Finally, the silence became too much for her. She couldn’t bear the weight of his patient observation any longer. She turned her head slightly, her gaze falling on Mitsuhide, who sat calmly, his placid expression giving nothing away.

「Good morning, Mitsuhide,」 she murmured softly, her voice a little rough from crying, a polite formality that felt both out of place and necessary in the charged atmosphere.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Mitsuhide’s lips. His amber eyes met hers, and there was a flicker of something gentle, something sympathetic, beneath his carefully neutral facade. 「Good morning, little mouse,」 he replied softly, the now familiar endearment slightly teasing, but carrying a warmth that surprised her. “It is time for our lesson. And another beautiful day for counting the moments, wouldn’t you agree?” That knowing gaze flicked to the stark black lines on the wall.

Ness’ eyes drifted back to the record of her days. “A different kind of day,” she said, the words quiet, almost a whisper, but carrying the weight of her profound relief.

A wave of mortification immediately washed over her. Why did you say that?! Even if her words hadn’t been blunt, even if she hadn’t explicitly stated her fear, Mitsuhide, being Mitsuhide, would see, would understand. She took a careful breath, then forced her gaze back to him, to that carefully composed expression. 

Mitsuhide, as if sensing the edge of her distress, or perhaps just satisfied with her unwitting confession, shifted his gaze towards the open screen and the bright light of the garden. “The air is particularly fresh today,” he murmured, his tone shifting, becoming lighter, more conversational, holding an underlying hint of invitation. “Perhaps our lesson might be better conducted outdoors? There are many new words we could explore in the garden, don’t you think? It would certainly make for a more… lively classroom.” He offered a small, disarming smile. “Unless you would prefer to continue contemplating the wisdom of your wall.”

Ness stared at him, caught between the crushing embarrassment and the unexpected offer. A walk. In the garden. Away from the incriminating wall. It was a tactical retreat, a chance to regain some composure. And Mitsuhide, with his casual wit and his disarming charm, would subtly steer the conversation away from dangerous ground, while undoubtedly extracting other pieces of information from her lowered defenses. Still… it’s the safer option. She let out an almost inaudible sigh as she pushed herself up from the ground, the familiar strain in her leg muscles and the persistent ache in her side making the movement less graceful than she would have liked. Then she made her way towards the garden with as much dignity as she could muster. 

The garden, this private space of Ieyasu’s, had become a place of unexpected routine in the past week. Mitsuhide, without warning, had simply appeared there the morning after she’d broken her silence, with a quiet offer to teach. What had begun as a singular attempt to engage her had solidified into a twice-daily ritual. He would come to the garden each morning, just as the sun warmed the damp earth, and again in the evenings. Ieyasu’s gruff, practical visits remained unchanged, a different kind of steadfastness. The predictability of it all, the steady rhythm of their presence, was an anchor in the bewildering current of her new reality.

Mitsuhide’s lessons were simple. Basic phrases, and words spoken aloud, repeated, and linked to the objects around them. He would point to a stone, utter 「Stone」, then encourage her to mimic the sounds. Ness found the structure of the language baffling, like trying to think in reverse, the words sequenced in ways that defied her ingrained logic. Yet, slowly, painstakingly, some sounds began to stick, some meanings to click into place. A faint spark of recognition, a small triumph she didn’t voice, would sometimes flicker when a previously unfamiliar word, heard in the warlords’ rapid conversation, suddenly made sense.

They walked the garden with a slow, relaxed pace, Mitsuhide reviewing words for colours and shapes as he traced the delicate curve of a leaf or the vibrant hue of a petal. Ness, for her part, was trying to articulate the concept of “purple”, a shade that seemed to defy easy translation. Her gaze drifted, searching for something familiar, a prompt, anything that might help her grasp the elusive word. Her eyes scanned the familiar rows of plants, moving towards a secluded corner where the vibrant green of a mature Japanese maple provided a canopy of dappled shade. And there, tucked away beneath its broad, five-lobed leaves, nestled in its glazed ceramic pot, was the delicate, unmistakable bloom of the sweet violet. Her feet drew her there before she could stop them.

Mitsuhide followed, drawing to a stop at her left side. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips as his gaze flicked from her to the carefully shaded violet, then back to her. His voice was smooth, almost a murmur. “Ieyasu attends to his garden meticulously. He ensures everything thrives in its proper place.”

A dry, amused smile touched her lips. “I’m sure it’s a great comfort to the violet.” She didn’t wait for a reply, her gaze fixed on the delicate bloom. “Purple.” She reached out a finger, gently tracing the soft petal.

Mitsuhide’s eyes followed her movement, a flicker of understanding in their depths. He spoke the word, his voice soft. 「Purple.」

「Purple.」 She repeated it carefully, the sounds beginning to feel a little less alien on her tongue.

Mitsuhide nodded, an acknowledgement of her efforts, but he didn’t press for more repetition. Instead, he allowed a comfortable silence to settle for a moment. His gaze swept across the garden, taking in the mix of carefully tended plants and wilder corners. When he spoke again, his tone was thoughtful, almost reflective. “This garden… it has a certain feeling, does it not? A blend of order and… familiarity.”

His words resonated, tapping into a deep, quiet well of memory. She looked around at the unfamiliar, yet somehow familiar, arrangement of plants, the scent of damp earth and growing things. A faint, wistful smile bloomed as she thought of a different garden, a different time. “Yes,” she murmured, her voice low. “It… it does. My mother’s garden felt… a little like this. Even though…” She trailed off, the differences vast, but the feeling, the essence, surprisingly similar.

“A garden full of brothers?” Mitsuhide’s smile took on a mischievous edge, his voice lightly teasing. “I imagine the flowers had to be quite resilient.”

Ness laughed softly, causing a faint, painful pull across her healing ribs. “Not just the flowers.”

Mitsuhide’s expression became a touch more thoughtful, though the teasing remained. “Resilience is a valuable trait, in flora and family.” He leaned slightly closer, his voice a conspiratorial murmur. “And what is the grand total of these… fellow cultivators?”

Ness’ smile grew and she laughed again, a short, almost defiant sound. “Too many.” He kept asking this question in so many different ways, and she kept answering with non-answers. You’d think he’d give up by now. But that didn’t seem to be in his nature. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just give a straight answer. It amused her, she supposed, almost an inside joke between them now.

Mitsuhide’s gaze seemed to travel beyond the garden walls, a contemplative air about him. “A land that nurtures too many formidable kin, where even the flowers are resilient. The place you call home sounds incredibly distant. A journey of countless leagues, I would venture.”

Ness considered his words, her gaze idly drifting past Mitsuhide, towards the open screen door of the main room. Through the filtered light, she caught a glimpse of Ieyasu, standing tall in the center of the room. He was speaking quietly with Mai, his head slightly inclined, listening intently. Mai bowed her head, a familiar gesture of deference, and Ieyasu’s posture, usually so rigid, seemed to ease. Ness watched, a strange sense of unfamiliar curiosity stirring within her, wondering what could possibly prompt such a shift in the usually stoic warlord.

A soft clearing of a throat beside her, and Mitsuhide’s patient gaze met hers, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Are you still with me, little mouse? Or have you gone leagues away?” he asked, gently drawing her back.

“Leagues?” she repeated softly, the archaic measurement only vaguely familiar. “A land league or a sea league? Not that I know the difference really.” She paused, searching for the right words. “We measure it differently. In… meters.” She introduced the foreign concept with a touch of uncertainty, holding her hand out slightly as if grasping the familiar unit.

A flicker of understanding and amusement danced in Mitsuhide’s eyes. “Meters?” he mused, tilting his head just slightly. “And how many of these ‘meters’ would it take to reach your mother’s garden?” His question was playful, a gentle push to see how she would translate the abstract into something tangible.

Ness hesitated, a slightly awkward gesture as she held her hand up to her waist, indicating a small size. “It’s about… this big.” It was a simple, visual explanation, given with a hint of embarrassment at the inadequacy of her description.

Mitsuhide observed her gesture, a more pronounced flicker of amusement now in his eyes. “Ah, ‘this big’. I see.” He nodded slowly, his placid expression giving little away, though the corners of his lips twitched. “So, the distance to your home is measured in units of ‘this big’.” He playfully reinterpreted her explanation, spreading his hands widely, highlighting the abstractness of her measurement to him.

Ness let out a sigh, a mix of slight exasperation and perhaps a little bit of amusement. “No, not in ‘this big’ units.” She clarified, trying to bridge the gap between their understanding. “A thousand of these make up a kilometer. And it’s thousands of kilometers.”

Mitsuhide’s smile grew, his gaze fixed on her. He shook his head slowly, a look of feigned awe on his face, his voice remaining playfully teasing. “A truly impressive number of ‘this big’ units.”

Before Ness could formulate a response to his teasing, the deliberate sound of footsteps drifted through the garden. It was a sound distinct from Mai’s light tread or Mitsuhide’s whisper-like movement. Ness’ head snapped up, her carefully constructed composure faltering for a brief moment. Through the open screen door, Ieyasu’s imposing figure appeared, his sharp green eyes scanning the garden before settling on the two of them. He stepped onto the wooden planks, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere, the easy rhythm of their conversation abruptly broken.

Mitsuhide offered Ieyasu a subtle nod of the head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 「Ieyasu, our little mouse is attempting to explain the vast distance to her homeland. She tells me it is measured in units called “meters”.」

Ieyasu, ever practical, responded with a question that cut to the core of the issue. 「What is a “meters”?」 His tone was blunt, a stark contrast to Mitsuhide’s playful delivery.

Mitsuhide, undeterred, gestured towards Ness’ hip. 「She explains it is about… ‘this big’.」

A flicker of bewilderment or perhaps grudging amusement crossed Ieyasu’s expression. 「’This big’? That is not a measurement.」 He stated the obvious, his practical mind unable to accept such a vague descriptor as a unit of distance.

Ness, feeling a mix of exasperation and a need to be more precise, stepped in. “No, it’s not ‘this big’.” She corrected Mitsuhide’s gesture, bringing her hand to her waist. “ This is how long a meter is. And a thousand of these are in a kilometer.” She clarified, trying to provide a more concrete understanding.

「A… thousand of these “meters”.」 He repeated the key piece of information, his gaze thoughtful. 「So, ‘this big’ is perhaps… half a Ness?」 He offered a rough approximation, using her own name as a unit of measure, a rare moment of levity from the usually stern Ieyasu.

Mitsuhide chuckled, a warm sound that filled the brief silence. 「A fascinating conversion, Ieyasu.」

Ness, both bristling at being used as a unit of measurement and finding a strange amusement in Ieyasu’s unexpected humour, retorted, “It’s not half a Ness! It’s more like… two-thirds.”

To her surprise, both men laughed. Ieyasu’s chuckle, low and rumbling, mingled with Mitsuhide’s softer, more melodic amusement. The sound was unexpected, a shared moment of genuine mirth. She felt a flush of frustration at being the subject of their amusement, but a faint, wry smile tugged at her own lips. Her small stature, she realized, was now officially a unit of measurement. But even as she bristled, an idea began to form, a way to cut through the absurdity and bridge the vast chasm between their understanding. 

“Wait.” Ness interrupted the lingering laughter, her voice shifting to a more serious, focused tone. “How long does it take to ride a horse from here to Kyoto?”

Mitsuhide’s amusement didn’t entirely fade, a mischievous glint still in his amber eyes. “Are you planning your escape, little mouse?”

Ness shrugged, a casual, almost amused gesture that sent a subtle throb of pain through her ribs. “Not until I’m well enough to climb that maple tree.”

Ieyasu and Mitsuhide exchanged a look, a flicker of silent communication passing between them, before Ieyasu answered her question. 「Half a day. Roughly.」

Ness tilted her head, gazing into the distance as she mentally calculated. “Half a day… six hours. On a horse… maybe ten kilometers an hour?” She thought aloud, trying to translate the travel time into some kind of distance. I need more data. She turned her gaze back to Ieyasu. “How far is Kyoto in your measurement? What is your measurement?”

Ieyasu looked at her, a flicker of surprise through his eyes at her line of questioning, but he replied without hesitation. 「Fifteen Ri.」

A small, almost imperceptible smile of triumph touched Ness’ lips as the pieces fell into place. “Fifteen Ri. So one Ri is about… four kilometers. Which means my homeland is… two thousand five hundred Ri away.” She delivered the final, impactful conversion, finally able to highlight the immense distance in terms they could truly grasp.

Mitsuhide’s expression, usually an unyielding mask, fractured for the briefest flicker, a sudden widening of his amber eyes that Ness, keenly watching, did not miss. Ieyasu seemed to freeze, his sharp green gaze locked on the distant horizon, a muscle ticking in his jaw. For a precious few heartbeats, their carefully constructed composure crumbled, revealing a raw astonishment that spoke volumes without a single word.

Ieyasu’s gaze settled on her then, and he let out a long breath. 「Two thousand five hundred Ri. You are a long way from home, Ness. A very long way.」 His voice was low and firm, but there was an underlying hint of something softer.

Mitsuhide nodded, that amber gaze softening ever so slightly with a hint of concern. “You truly are from a land at the end of the world, little mouse.” His tone was far more somber, the playful teasing gone.

“Ten thousand kilometers.” And a few hundred years. Ness’ gaze lifted, tracing an imaginary line up into the clear, blue sky. “As the crow flies.”

Mitsuhide’s head tilted, his brow subtly furrowed in question. He looked at her, then up at the sky, clearly trying to grasp the meaning of “as the crow flies” in this context.

“Straight.” She clarified with a soft voice. Using her good hand, she slowly extended her arm straight out in front of her, creating a clear, unbroken line from her chest. “As if there were no obstacles on the path. Just… straight.”

His eyes widened just a fraction as the meaning clicked into place. Then Mitsuhide turned to Ieyasu, his voice imbued with a new, quiet awe. 「She is referring to the straight line distance. As a bird might fly. Not the path a traveler must take.」

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a rare flicker of disbelief in his eyes as he absorbed this new, even more staggering implication. 「That is… beyond comprehension. And beyond reach.」

Beyond comprehension… and beyond reach. Ieyasu’s low words, stripped of their usual gruffness, echoed the chilling truth Ness had just so clinically laid bare. She had calculated the numbers, presented the facts. Two thousand five hundred Ri. Ten thousand kilometers. Hundreds of years. But it wasn’t just a number. It was a chasm. A vast, unbridgeable distance separating her from everything she loved, from a life she had so carelessly, so irrevocably, lost. The faint hope of return, a hope she’d clung to even in the darkest moments, was extinguished by the sheer, brutal scale of her displacement. A sickening wave twisted in her gut. She hadn’t just traveled leagues; she had traveled worlds. And there was no path back.

She was vaguely aware of Mitsuhide’s soft voice, a gentle murmur cutting through the swirling vortex of her thoughts, breaking the heavy silence. “You possess a mind capable of great calculations, Ness, and a breadth of knowledge that is… uncommon, even for a man of letters in our own lands.” 

She was only half-listening. Her thoughts were filled with a muddle of lost gardens and absent brothers, the raw ache of an unbridgeable distance. Mitsuhide’s words registered with a vague confusion. Great calculations? It was just basic maths. She blinked, trying to re-center herself in the present moment, forcing her eyes to focus on the garden, but her mind still felt leagues away. Her good hand instinctively clenched into a tight fist at her side, the nails digging into her palm, a desperate attempt to ground herself against the surge of internal agony. 

Ieyasu, his expression composed and calm again, finally spoke, his voice gruff but with a new note of reluctant respect. 「Indeed. You’ve clearly spent time with scholars. More than is usual for… any woman I have met.」

Ness looked at them blankly for a moment before the words, almost a reflex, slipped out. “All children in my homeland are educated. It’s… the law?”

Ieyasu’s brow furrowed, his expression betraying just a touch of confusion, the concept clearly alien to his understanding of society. 「A law? For… all children? Even the farmers’ sons?」

She simply nodded, the devastating realisation still echoing within her, making the very idea of their astonishment seem absurd.

Mitsuhide leaned forward, his amber eyes wide with a dawning wonder. “Even those who simply till the land? They, too, are taught to read the stars?”

“Well, I don’t know about stars,” Ness murmured, the details of her homeland’s curriculum not at the forefront of her mind, “but taught to read and write, yes.”

「And the daughters?」 Ieyasu pressed further, a hint of astonishment in his gruff voice. 「They too learn to… calculate distance?」

A short, sharp laugh escaped Ness, the sound a little brittle, a little disbelieving, even to her own ears. “I did say ‘all children’, didn’t I?”

Mitsuhide’s expression was thoughtful, his gaze distant as if he was considering a complex idea. “A society where all learn. A merchant’s son sharing lessons with… a noble’s daughter. What an unusual blurring of lines.” He paused, his eyes returning to her, a gentle question in their depths. “Does the king approve of such… mingling… where you are from?”

You just can’t resist, can you? That irritation she felt at his constant, gentle persistence ran through her in a tremor. Her eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening, the tightening of her muscles exacerbating the familiar ache in her back. “We don’t have a king.” Her voice was flat, final, an immediate shutdown.

Mitsuhide tilted his head, a touch of genuine curiosity in his expression, his gaze steady and knowing. “Forgive my persistence, Ness, but… you mentioned a king. During our journey from Kyoto. A figure of authority, I assumed. Now you say there is none. I confess, I am… confused.” His soft voice held an almost regretful tone.

A weary sigh escaped her lips, but she met his gaze directly, both a challenge and a silent plea for him to back down. “Is that what I said? I confess I don’t recall much of our journey.” 

Mitsuhide’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, those amber eyes sharp with observation, as if he was absorbing her weariness, her refusal to be drawn further. Then, he nodded - a silent acknowledgement that, for today, he had pushed as far as he would.

Ness paused, trying to keep the rush of relief from showing in her expression, her gaze sweeping between the two men. Then she bowed, just slightly, a slow, deliberate movement that sent a throb of pain through her ribs. “Thank you both for your company. I believe our lesson has concluded for this morning and I am… weary. I should rest.” She kept her voice soft but it held a polite firmness. She didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned and began to walk back across the garden, each slow, deliberate step a conscious effort to maintain her composure.

A long, drawn-out sigh of frustration drifted from the terrace behind her. It was Ieyasu. 「Weary? Or simply finished with our questions?」

Mitsuhide’s soft chuckle floated across the garden. 「A bit of both, perhaps, Ieyasu. Our little mouse is skilled at knowing when to retreat.」

「The distance weighs heavily upon her.」 Ieyasu’s gruff, low voice sounded resigned.

「Yes. The hope… it is extinguished.」 Mitsuhide’s voice grew softer, his tone thoughtful, almost serious. 「But the mind remains sharp. And the defiance… it is still there.」

「You provoked her. With your questions about the king…」 There was something disapproving in Ieyasu’s faintly irritated tone.

Mitsuhide laughed softly again, his voice taking on a light, almost teasing tone. 「A gentle redirection, Ieyasu. A way to shift the focus from the unbridgeable chasm to the intriguing differences.」

Ieyasu let out another sigh. 「You’re playing a dangerous game, Mitsuhide.」

「Perhaps. But it is a game that reveals much. And one that, I believe, she is not entirely unwilling to play. Even if she pretends otherwise.」 Mitsuhide’s voice was a strange blend of thoughtful and amused.

Their words, though muffled by distance and mostly unintelligible, were not completely unknown to her. Little mouse. King. Ness’ shoulders stiffened. They weren’t even trying to hide it. The audacity. A sharp prickle of annoyance flared. She stopped, twisting, her good hand pressed against her aching ribs, her gaze fixed on the two warlords. “I can still hear you, you know.” Her voice was flat, tight with annoyance she couldn’t suppress. “Have you forgotten what I said about not talking about me?”

Mitsuhide inclined his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. “If my memory serves,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I believe you said that we should do it behind your back like civilised people.” His gaze held hers, a challenge and a playful triumph in his amber eyes.

A genuine, disbelieving laugh bubbled up from Ness’ burning chest, surprising even herself. The sheer nerve of him, the rigid, literal interpretation of her words, because it suited his purpose perfectly. It was absurd, and for a fleeting moment, genuinely funny. A soft, weary sigh escaped her lips. “Yes,” she said quietly, a trace of amusement still lingering in her voice. “Yes, that is indeed what I said.”

Ieyasu, still on the terrace, let out another low sigh, a sound that spoke volumes of his exasperation, his jaw tight with a familiar frustration. Mitsuhide’s eyes remained fixed on her with that infuriatingly knowing gaze, a faint, almost imperceptible smile still playing on his lips. There was a challenge in his expression, yes, but also a strange blend of amusement and strategic satisfaction. He had won this round, using her own words as his weapon, and he knew it.

How long can I keep this up? The constant vigilance, the parrying of every question, every knowing look. It was exhausting. And what happens when they finally see the whole picture? When they see me? Ness shook her head gently, but she said nothing more. She simply turned, stepped up onto the terrace with a slow, careful movement, and walked the final few steps back into the cool, welcoming shadows of her room.

Chapter Text

The last strip of fresh bandage pulled taut across the arch of her left foot. Ieyasu’s touch was firm, efficient, a practiced economy of movement that spoke of countless wounds tended. He finished the knot, a sharp tug, and sat back on his heels. His gruff voice was a low rumble. 「Your feet would heal if you stayed off them. You’ll set yourself back if you push too hard.」

Mitsuhide, seated a little apart, a study in quiet observation, translated almost as the words left Ieyasu’s lips. “... push too hard.” The echo was so immediate now, so seamlessly woven into the rhythm of their interactions, that Ness barely registered it as a separate voice. It was simply understanding, delivered in a neutral cadence. 

She flexed her toes within the new bandages, the restricted movement a reminder of the slow, deliberate crawl of her recovery. She began to shift, gathering her weight to stand almost as soon as he sat back on his heels, the signal that the daily check-up was concluded. Her gaze drifted towards the open door, towards the promise of the garden’s cool air and a brief, precious solitude.

But Ieyasu’s voice, sharper now, cut across her intention. 「We are not finished, Ness. Stay where you are.」

Ness froze, her hand hovering in the air. Not finished? A jolt of surprise went through her. They had been through the usual check-up - the bandages, the instructions to rest, the brief, neutral exchange. What else could he possibly want? She slowly lowered her hand, her gaze drawn back to Ieyasu. His sharp green eyes were fixed on her, and yes, there was a determined set to his jaw, but beneath it, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place, something that made her stomach clench. Discomfort? Unease? Where have I seen that look before? She flicked a quick glance towards Mitsuhide, but his expression remained a carefully blank mask, offering no clues.

Ieyasu took a slow, steady breath. There was a subtle shift in his posture. He was making an effort, she realised, an effort to be… non-threatening? It only heightened her apprehension. 「Your wounds are healing, if slowly. Though some ailments, it seems, you deem unworthy of a physician’s attention.」 His voice was low and firm, a stark contrast to the usual gruff rumble. 

The words hung in the air, and in that instant, the memory slammed into her. That look on his face. The first day. The first, terrifying examination. When he had asked, through Mitsuhide, about… other injuries. Injuries… of a different kind. And the shame, absolute and suffocating, poured through her as another memory surfaced: just this morning, Mai speaking to him in the distance, and the way his usually rigid posture had eased as he listened intently. They were talking about the possible crisis. He knows. He knows I kept it from him. He knows what John did. The name, unbidden, flashed in her mind, bringing with it a wave of nausea so potent she tasted bile. The sharp, unwelcome edges of memory pricked at her like shards of glass. No. God, no. Not now. She fought to keep her face blank, to control the sudden trembling in her hand, the frantic thudding of her heart. 

Ieyasu, his eyes still fixed on her, his tone softening just a fraction, pressed on. 「You told me that you would listen to my advice. How can I advise you if you choose to… manage such concerns in secret?」

That was it. The shame, the fear, the memories - it was too much. The burning in her chest, the desperate need to escape, shifted, sharp and suddenly, into fury. He was referring to the silent count, the revulsion, the private dread she’d carried for weeks… as a ‘concern’. She met his gaze, her eyes prickling with heat. “What did you expect?” she retorted, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “You’re not exactly… approachable.”

Mitsuhide, his carefully blank mask cracking just a fraction, leaned forward. “Ness,” he began, his voice low and attempting a soothing cadence, “Ieyasu may be gruff, but his concern-”

Ieyasu raised a hand, an abrupt gesture that cut Mitsuhide off mid-sentence. His sharp green eyes remained fixed on Ness. 「My personality is not relevant,」 he stated, his voice still low and firm. 「I am your physician, and your honesty is necessary for your recovery.」

Ness, furious, protective anger still simmering beneath her skin, met his gaze squarely. “And then what?” she challenged, her voice sharp and laced with sarcasm. “You would… what? Offer a prayer? Brew some tea? How exactly would my honesty have helped me?” 

But even as the words left her lips, the sheer, bone-deep exhaustion of it all crashed through her. The anger, the shame, the fear, the constant vigilance - it was a crushing weight. She felt herself deflate, the fight draining out of her like air from a punctured lung. “It… it was nothing. It’s over now.” The anger drained from her voice too, leaving only a flatness. She wouldn’t cry, not here, not in front of them, but she had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to hold it back.

「But what about the next crisis?」 Ieyasu pressed on, his tone softening into something almost gentle, clearly seeing the shift in her. 「Hiding this does not show me you are taking your recovery seriously.」

Ness swallowed, her throat tight. The next crisis. Oh God, have I not had enough crises for an entire lifetime? She was too tired, too overwhelmed. She was just a woman hanging on by a thread, desperate for a moment’s peace. She looked at Ieyasu, then flicked a glance at Mitsuhide, who was watching her with a penetrating intensity.

“I… I won’t hide medical concerns again,” she murmured, the words barely audible. “I’ll… I’ll listen to your advice. I’ll take my recovery seriously.” It was a surrender, a reluctant reiteration of her previous promise, born of exhaustion and a desperate hope that this would be enough, for now, to ease the relentless pressure. To be granted escape.

Ieyasu’s eyes held a glint of something akin to satisfaction. She could sense the subtle tightening of his jaw, the almost imperceptible straightening of his shoulders. 「Good,」 he said, his voice firm but still gentle. 「Then let us speak of the present concern. Your nights are… not restful. That, too, requires my attention.」

It was a trap. Her stomach dropped as the realisation hit her, sharp and unwelcome, the breath catching in her throat. She had promised, hadn’t she? Promised to take her recovery seriously. And now he’s using it. Her anger flared again, but it wasn’t the hot, burning rage from moments before; it was a tired, hollow fury that settled deep in her bones, most of it directed at herself. 

She let out a ragged sigh, a sound of profound defeat, and a dark, humourless laugh escaped her lips. Her eyes snapped to Mitsuhide. His expression remained unreadable, but she could see the faint tension around his mouth, the almost imperceptible tilt of his head. “And here I thought you were the manipulative one,” she said, her voice heavy with bitter sarcasm.

Mitsuhide didn’t reply, didn’t so much as twitch. He simply translated her words for Ieyasu, his voice a neutral conduit. Of course he’s saying nothing. A fresh wave of resentment washed over her. He knew. He knew Ieyasu would do this.

Ieyasu, for his part, showed no reaction to her accusation. His gaze remained unwavering, relentless. 「You need to speak about this,」he insisted, unyielding. 「Or are these dreams also… ‘nothing’?」

Her initial shock at his directness subsided, replaced by a heavy sense of resignation. She had just promised to be more considerate. This is it. The test. She had to engage, at least a little, or everything she had just conceded would be worthless. Her voice was low, laced with raw weariness. “No. They are not…” she paused, swallowing drily, “nothing. They… are difficult.”

Ieyasu’s gaze was like a physical weight, pinning her down. 「Difficult is… a farmer’s life.」 His tone was almost gentle as he pressed on, refusing to let her minimise it. 「Difficult is a siege. Screaming and thrashing in the dark is… something else. What happens when you are asleep, Ness? What is the nature of these dreams?」

His bluntness was a hammer blow to the fragile shell she had built around herself, splintering the defenses that kept the abyss at bay. The agony of her admission was immediate and profound, even before the words fully formed. “They’re… not dreams. I…” Ness paused, every muscle tensing, every fiber of her being screaming in protest. She had to force herself, had to tear the words from a place she never wanted to revisit. “... I relive it.”

The silence that followed this raw admission was thick with unspoken weight. Mitsuhide’s eyes, sharp and assessing, met Ieyasu’s. There was a flicker of understanding that passed between them, a silent communication that excluded her entirely, and a fresh wave of a tired, helpless anger washed over her.

Mitsuhide spoke quietly, his voice a low murmur that she could barely discern. He wasn’t translating for her now; he was speaking to Ieyasu. 「She relives the past.」 Mitsuhide’s words lacked their usual lightness, and held a subtle note of… warning? There was a calculating concern in those amber eyes. 「But she will not speak of that. You are treading on ground she has already forbidden.」

Ness’ eyes darted between the two men, trying to decipher the meaning behind Mitsuhide’s hushed words. A cold knot formed in her stomach. Was he reminding Ieyasu of her boundary, the one she’d so fiercely defended? Or advising him on how to use her trauma as a weapon? With Mitsuhide, it was always impossible to be sure.

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. When he spoke, his voice was low, a dangerous undercurrent beneath the forced calm. 「How can I heal a wound if I cannot see it?」 Those sharp, green eyes studied Mitsuhide with intensity. 「If her mind is sick, I must know what afflicts it.」

Sick. The known word echoed in her mind. He thinks I’m broken. Damaged. The shame surged back with a vengeance, hot and suffocating. Her hand trembled, and she drew it into a tight fist, digging her nails into her palms in a desperate attempt to ground herself. She wanted to lash out, to tell them they had no right to dissect her pain, no right to talk about her as if she wasn’t right there in front of them. But the words wouldn’t come. 

「This is what you consider patience, Ieyasu?」 A faint, wry smile played on Mitsuhide’s lips, a subtle arch of one brow. 「My suggestion was for strategic restraint, not a frontal assault on forbidden ground.」

Ieyasu let out a soft, almost inaudible, irritated noise. 「You were the one who framed this as a siege. When presented with a breach, a commander exploits it.」

Mitsuhide, his gaze still holding Ieyasu’s, offered a soft, knowing observation. 「It seems you’ve brought your own dangerous game to the table, Ieyasu.」 

Ieyasu’s posture remained rigid, a study in controlled tension. His eyes narrowed with a dangerous calm, a silent challenge passing between the two warlords.

A fresh wave of fury, hot and sharp, coursed through Ness. It wasn’t just directed at them, the two men seated so imposingly before her, but at herself too, for allowing them even this sliver of access. She had been so careful, so guarded, only to have her own desperate vulnerability used as a wedge. Mitsuhide’s composed expression betrayed nothing of the sly manipulation she knew was at play. Her jaw tightened, the familiar burning behind her eyes threatening to erupt. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she bit out, the words raw with exasperation.

Mitsuhide’s response was a carefully maintained silence, his amber eyes unwavering. Ness glared at him for a long pause, then her gaze flicked between the two men, a gesture of her hand sweeping the air between them. “Really?” she demanded, the single word dripping with disbelief and accusation. Frustration coiled in her gut, a physical sensation.

She pivoted then, her head snapping towards Ieyasu, her voice tightening with a fierce resolve. “You are the one who insists we have this conversation. As a patient and her doctor, yes?”

Ieyasu tilted his head slightly, as if he was caught off guard by her direct challenge. Then he offered a curt confirmation, his posture shifting just barely.

Ness seized on his reluctant agreement. “Then Mitsuhide’s input is neither appropriate nor needed here, correct? Just translation. Nothing more.” She held his gaze, willing him to agree, knowing that to deny it would undermine the very premise of their supposed doctor-patient ‘trust’. He nodded, of course, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle clenching of his jaw as he fought to hold himself back. Her fury was a palpable force in the room, and her defiance was clearly not endearing her to him.

With her point made, she turned her gaze back to Mitsuhide, her voice low and laced with challenge. “Will that be a problem? Holding your commentary until we’re finished? Or would you two like to have a strategy meeting before we continue?” It was a gauntlet, thrown down between herself and the two most powerful men she knew.

A silent communication passed between him and Ieyasu then, a fleeting glance, a subtle shift in posture - the kind of wordless exchange she couldn’t complain about, yet which irritated her beyond measure. They were respecting her boundary, but in a way that felt like a calculated indignity.

Mitsuhide’s eyes, which had held that sharper glint just moments before, softened, losing their amusement and becoming placidly neutral. He didn’t reply. He simply met her furious gaze with an unreadable calmness that frustrated her even more. 

Ieyasu turned back to her, his expression stern, but his voice softening again, the volume lowered to an intimate, medical tone. Mitsuhide immediately pivoted, his voice impeccably neutral and precise as he translated. 「You… relive it.」 Ieyasu paused, allowing Mitsuhide’s words to bridge the gap. 「What does that mean, Ness? Are you… aware? Do you know it is not truly happening?」 He watched her intently, as if searching for clues, his physician’s mind at work.

Ness flinched, the question a direct hit. She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, battling the immediate surge of terror that accompanied the thought of her nights. She could feel the insidious tendrils of memory reaching for her, threatening to pull her back into the abyss. This was the moment. The painful truth. She drew a ragged breath, forcing herself to open her eyes, to meet Ieyasu’s unwavering gaze, willing herself to push back the encroaching darkness. 

“No. In that moment, it is happening,” she admitted, her voice a strained whisper, raw with the effort of control. “My mind, my senses… they believe it utterly. It’s all real until the moment I break free.”

Ieyasu’s eyes sharpened, a new intensity entering his gaze. He studied her, then, a clinical assessment of her face, her tense shoulders, the uncontrollable tremor in her hand. His voice held an almost probing quality. 「When you awaken, Ness, and you are… panicked. What do you see?」 His words were direct, cutting through her defenses with the precision of a surgeon’s blade. 「Do you see… me?」 He paused, allowing Mitsuhide to translate the delicate, yet utterly invasive, question.

The question hit her with the force of a physical blow. She froze, every muscle in her body tensing, her breath catching in her throat. The casual, almost throwaway nature of his final words was what truly shattered her composure. In that instant, the pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity.

A wave of terror, revulsion, and a simmering, helpless fury at the implications washed over her. The sheer, unbearable indignity of it. He, Ieyasu, the man who had healed her wounds, the one whose presence had become a strange, gruff comfort, had been subject to that. He pulled her from the abyss only to be treated like him. To be looked at like… he was the monster. The shame was a searing heat, quickly followed by a profound, gut-wrenching pity for him. For what he endured at night. The weight of her past had extended its reach to contaminate even his awkward efforts at kindness. 

Her shoulders slumped, a deep, ragged breath escaping her. Her eyes fixed on Ieyasu’s face, suddenly devoid of anger, filled instead with a raw, agonising remorse. “I’m… sorry,” she whispered, the words barely audible, a fragile thread in the suddenly heavy silence. “That must be… incredibly difficult for you. You don’t… you don’t have to do that. I can manage.”

The effect of her words was immediate. Ieyasu’s clenched jaw visibly slackened. His sharp eyes widened, reflecting a profound bewilderment that Ness saw and felt with a fresh wave of shame. Mitsuhide, ever the picture of composure, leaned forward almost imperceptibly, his amber eyes fixed on her with an expression that was almost stunned. 

Then Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a familiar gruffness returned to his voice. But it was underscored by a new, almost fierce… possessiveness. He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. 「Manage?」 The word was a challenge. 「Yes, you are managing so well, Ness. And I do not ‘have to do that.’」 He spit out the last part, a clear rejection of her attempt to release him from the burden. 「I choose to do that. It is my duty.」 His gaze flicked to Mitsuhide, a silent, loaded acknowledgement. 「I will be there.」 His voice was low, but the intensity was palpable, leaving no room for debate.

Ness stared at him, listening to his gruff, yet utterly firm, rejection of her offer to unburden him. The words cut through her shame to expose the undeniable commitment beneath his usual brusqueness. The realisation that he chose this, that he deliberately inserted himself into the terrifying chaos of her darkest moments, filled her with a dizzying mix of awe, confusion, and a fresh surge of guilt. He had seen her at her most exposed, and he was not only undeterred but claiming it as his charge.

“I… I always managed before and…” The words spilled out, almost before she consciously registered them, a knee-jerk reaction to protect herself from the shame of her current failure to manage. To prove that she wasn’t some helpless, broken creature needing constant supervision. The “and…” hung in the air, instantly severed by a jolt of horror. No, Ness! Stop! Her mind screamed with a familiar internal rebuke. She had betrayed her own self-preservation in a desperate attempt to assuage his unexpected, forceful compassion.

Ieyasu’s eyes immediately sharpened with an almost predatory, intensely focused gleam. It wasn’t malicious, but utterly clinical, completely driven by his single-minded pursuit of understanding. His low voice softened almost imperceptibly, losing its gruffness again. 「Before?」 he echoed, the single word a direct, insistent question. He didn’t elaborate, the brevity of his demand forcing her to provide the necessary context.

“It was a long time ago,” Ness finally murmured, her voice flat, almost devoid of inflection. Her gaze was fixed on a point just beyond Ieyasu’s shoulder, refusing to meet either man’s eyes, as if by not looking, she could somehow not be seen. “I haven’t… thought about it in years.” She slumped slightly, the fight draining from her, leaving only a hollow ache.

Ieyasu leaned in further, his voice dropping to a low, insistent murmur that seemed to fill the very air around her. 「How long is ‘a long time ago’, Ness?」

A sigh, almost inaudible, escaped her lips. She didn’t shift, trying to keep her expression blank, neutral. “About a decade.”

A flicker of something - surprise? curiosity? - crossed Mitsuhide’s impassive face. Ieyasu’s eyes, however, remained fixed on her, his expression unwavering. 「And what was the cause? Do you know?」 The voice was still soft, but the intensity in his gaze was a relentless force. 

Ness flinched, a whisper of a tremor running through her shoulders. Her body grew rigid, and she closed her eyes for a fleeting second, desperately trying to pull back, to detach. When she opened them again, she kept her gaze averted, her voice so quiet it was almost lost to the rustle of the garden outside. “There was a death in the family.” 

「Grief.」 Ieyasu’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle shift in his expression. 「Was it… unexpected?」

Ness let out a soft laugh, a sound that held no mirth, only a deep, weary cynicism. “What death is not?” She kept her voice flat, distant.

Ieyasu studied her for a long moment, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but sensing the fragile ground they stood upon. He shifted slightly, adjusted his posture, that low, firm voice taking on a cautious note. 「Are these dreams… the same as the ones you experienced before?」

Ness finally moved, shaking her head slowly, a barely perceptible gesture. “No.” Her gaze remained fixed on the invisible point beyond him. “Before… I was not in the dream.”

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of intense, analytical focus flashing through them. His jaw tightened, subtly, and there was a brief moment, as if he was recalibrating. 「You said… you always managed before.」 He paused, allowing Mitsuhide’s quiet echo to settle first. 「Tell me about that.」

Managed? Her own words echoed back at her with bitter irony. God, did I ever? It was just… survival. She had merely survived, hanging on by a thread thanks only to the efforts of her brothers. Prince had tried to tough-love it out of her, insisting on physical exertion, demanding she channel her fear into discipline. Then Duke had tried to mediate, to reason with the illogical fear. He’d force her into conversation, gentle at first, then increasingly firm. Baron created elaborate schedules, precise routines, meticulously logging every detail. And Earl… he hadn’t tried to fix her. He’d just slept on her floor and attempted to drown out the silence with endless distraction, to fill every moment with external noise. Their separate efforts had been an endless source of frustration but somehow, together, they were what held her together. Oh God, I miss them so much. The unwelcome thought came with a surge of withering despair that threatened to undo her completely, a painful, familiar lump forming in her throat.

Ness took a short, shallow breath. “I… moved back home. My brothers…” Her voice, though attempting levity, had a strained quality that matched her forced smile. It was an agonising effort to push the raw, aching knot of grief for them deep down, to smother the sudden, desperate longing. “Well, they’re not exactly known for their emotional intelligence, but they tried. We managed…”

Barely. Until the old man had finally conceded. He’d dragged her to a ‘specialist’, a kindly woman with soft eyes and a quiet voice, who had murmured about PTSD. She’d tried to talk, to guide Ness through visualisations, through breathing exercises. But the old man didn’t really believe in talking about things, so he didn’t force her to go.

Then, one day… the nightmares just stopped. The appointments ceased. The worried glances faded. The questions dried up. It was as if they’d never happened at all, which was an entirely different, unsettling experience in itself. 

And I want to tell them precisely none of this. Ness held back the sigh, weighing her words, assessing the risk, debating how much to reveal. She glanced, almost imperceptibly, towards Mitsuhide, whose placid expression gave nothing away, yet whose amber eyes seemed to hold a silent, knowing understanding of her internal debate. There was no push from him, no demand, just a waiting presence.

Ieyasu, however, had no such patience. He saw the guarded shift in her demeanour, and interpreted it with his usual bluntness. 「What are you holding back, Ness?」 he demanded, his voice a flat, unyielding challenge.

Ness flinched at the sharpness of his question, but a different kind of resolve settled in her chest. She took a slow, deliberate breath. “In my homeland,” she began, her voice carefully measured, “when people experience symptoms such as mine… it is recognised as a… medical condition.” She paused, carefully searching for the right way to explain this to men who clearly had no understanding of trauma. “It’s a condition suffered by people who have… endured an extremely distressing or frightening event.”

Ieyasu’s brow furrowed. 「A recognised medical condition,」 he echoed, skepticism warring with his physician’s curiosity. 「And doctors in your homeland… diagnose this condition?」

Ness hesitated, just for a moment, then gave the slightest of nods. “There are doctors who… specialise in the mind. In helping people… work through these issues. There are various methods. It… depends on the condition.”

A quiet intensity settled over Mitsuhide’s features, his gaze fixed on her with an uncharacteristic stillness. There was a faint, almost imperceptible shift in those amber eyes. She could almost see the gears turning behind them, dissecting her words. He looked as if he had a hundred questions, all neatly catalogued behind his calm facade, waiting for their turn. But he offered no immediate commentary.

「Doctors… for the mind?」 This idea seemed new to Ieyasu, an unfamiliar concept that he needed to take a moment to consider. 「And what are these methods? Talking?」 He looked pointedly at her, an unspoken challenge in his gaze. 「You are not exactly doing well on that front, Ness.」

A flash of defiance returned, hot and sharp, a quick retort ready on her tongue. “People are not forced to go to therapy,” she said, the words cutting, a pointed remark that underscored her own agency and her right to refuse. “It is a choice.”

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He took a slow, deliberate breath, visibly reining himself in. 「A choice.」 Ieyasu’s voice returned to that low, firm cadence, shedding the faint edge of personal frustration. 「Then what would these ‘doctors of the mind’ recommend for your… dreams? If not words, then what?」 He fixed her with a demanding gaze, his physician’s mind focused on actionable methods, on concrete interventions.

Ness hesitated, then leaned forward slightly. “Well,” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully, “they would focus on managing the symptoms. On controlling the environment.” She gestured vaguely at the room. “Reducing stress. Establishing routines. Calming activities before sleep, like… meditation, or aromatherapy.” She thought of lavender, of chamomile tea, of the soothing sounds of rain outside her window. “Avoiding triggers. Sometimes, gentle exercise. Or… deep breathing exercises.” 

Ieyasu listened intently, his expression slowly shifting from skepticism to a grudging recognition. He watched her, his sharp gaze assessing her every subtle movement. When she finished, he remained silent for a moment, absorbing her words. 「So it is about creating a sense of predictability and control.」 He paused, then his eyes met hers, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. 「It seems your ‘doctors of the mind’ and a sensible physician are not entirely… dissimilar in their recommendations.」 

It was a subtle, almost grudging, acknowledgement of the unexpected common ground between their vastly different worlds; a bizarre moment of almost-agreement. For a split second, she felt a peculiar mix of validation and further confusion. He was already doing so much of this for her: the rigorous routine, his careful management of the light, the calming incense, even the forced “gentle exercise” in the garden and his steady presence during her panic attacks, guiding her breathing. The irony was almost humorous.

But Ieyasu didn’t allow the moment of unexpected understanding to linger. His expression, which had softened for a fleeting instant, hardened with renewed purpose. 「Very well,」 he stated, his voice now crisp, decisive, leaving no room for argument. 「We will start this evening.」

Ness stared, her mouth falling slightly open. Start? This evening? The unexpected command, the abrupt shift in focus, threw her completely off balance. She had envisioned the conversation ending, a brief truce before retreating to her own space. But “this evening” implied another scheduled intrusion. As in, tonight. While she was preparing for bed, no less. The unwelcome idea stirred up a fresh wave of resentment.

“Oh, wonderful,” she said, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “Because the presence of you two, just before I retire, is so incredibly good for my stress levels.” She didn’t articulate the simmering rage, the raw annoyance at being so thoroughly managed, but it was there, a palpable hum in the charged silence that followed her words.

Mitsuhide remained silent, a perfect statue of composure, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips was the only betraying sign of his internal amusement at her audacious sarcasm. 

Ieyasu simply stared at her, his green eyes unblinking, assessing her defiance with a calm, stern expression. 「I am pleased to hear that, Ness,」 he murmured, that low, firm voice entirely devoid of the expected irritation. 「Then we can proceed with confidence, knowing we are contributing to your well-being.」

Chapter Text

The flickering oil lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the paper strewn around Ness. She sat cross-legged in the doorway to the terrace, her spine aching slightly from the prolonged position, but her mind was elsewhere, grappling with new sounds. 「Eat. Drink,」 she murmured, her voice a low, hesitant whisper joining the rustling in the garden. Her finger traced the charcoal lines of a stomach on the paper before her, then moved to a mouth. 「Breathe.」 Her brow furrowed as she tried to get the intonation just right, the sounds stubborn on her tongue.

She was already dressed for bed, though the simple night-kimono felt like a thin shield against the looming intrusion and the more immediate cool, evening breeze. But the very thought of having to undress, to perform any personal ritual in their presence, was unbearable. It was a small act, reclaiming a sliver of her routine and personal space, even as she braced herself for the inevitable disruption. 

Ness took a slow, shallow breath. Stay calm. It’s just like when the boys sleep on… oh, God. I hope they’re not going to sleep on the floor. Ness reached out to the other pages, the painstaking records she kept of her lessons with Mitsuhide - a sheet covered in neatly drawn geometric shapes, a list of colours, a crude map of the garden, and her latest endeavour, an intricate study of the body, a series of detailed sketches labelled with clusters of words. 「Stand. Walk.」 Ness traced her finger along the illustration of a figure in motion, grateful for the sensation of paper against her skin again. 「Run. Slow. Fast.」 She stopped, picking up a piece of charcoal to carefully inscribe the sounds as she heard them. Hah… ya… i. It was rough, but it was oddly helpful.

She didn’t immediately register their arrival, so focused was she on the unfamiliar sounds before her. It was only when a soft, almost hesitant, voice offered a quiet 「Good evening, little mouse」that her head snapped up, charcoal clutched in her hand.

Standing just inside the doorway, the two warlords were a study in controlled stillness. Ieyasu, as ever, was a formidable presence, his gaze sharp but neutral. Beside him, Mitsuhide’s usual composed demeanour seemed to hold a fraction more caution than usual, his amber eyes taking in the scene before him - the scattered papers, the drawings, her frozen in surprise. A wave of heat flooded her cheeks. Despite doing absolutely nothing wrong, a familiar, unwelcome sensation of being ‘caught’ washed over her. 

A charged silence fell over the room. Mitsuhide’s eyes, sharp and knowing, met Ieyasu’s for a fleeting instant, a subtle acknowledgement passing between them - surprise, maybe, at the scale of her hidden efforts. Ieyasu’s stern gaze assessed her carefully before turning to the pile of drawings. There, partially revealed, was a very detailed, very anatomically correct illustration. No! Why couldn’t it have been a plant or a triangle or a fucking spleen? His green eyes, sharp with a sudden, clinical focus, lingered on the intricate lines, a flicker of fascination in their depths. Ness had to physically restrain the urge to reach out and cover the offending sketch.

Then Mitsuhide let out a soft, amused laugh, his voice humming with a rare warmth. “My favourite student is far more diligent than I imagined,” he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips as he gestured towards the pile of paper.

“I’m your only student, aren’t I?” The dry words came out on auto-pilot, a half-hearted engagement with the usual rapport. 

Ieyasu’s gaze remained fixed on the drawing. 「This drawing…」 he murmured, his gruff voice holding a subtle, almost irritated tone. 「The representation of the musculature is adequate. You haven’t missed much.」

Was that… a compliment? She felt a fresh wave of heat rise to her cheeks. She was suddenly, intensely, ridiculously nervous, a strange mix of pride in her work and acute embarrassment. “Oh,” she murmured, her gaze darting to the detailed illustration, “it’s just… I took a life drawing class.”

A beat of silence followed, the words hanging in the air, utterly foreign. Ieyasu’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting from curiosity to blank incomprehension. 

Mitsuhide leaned forward slightly, his head tilted. “A… ‘life drawing’ class?” he echoed, his tone betraying no judgement, only curiosity. 

Ness’ stomach lurched. Oh, God. Her initial attempt to fob them off had spectacularly backfired. The full, excruciating implication of what a life drawing class entailed, from their perspective, began to dawn on her. “Well,” she blurted out, cutting herself off, her voice suddenly tight with mortification. She scrambled for a less explicit, less revealing explanation. “Well… you can’t really draw the body properly if you haven’t… seen one.” She tried to make it sound clinical, professional, but the heat radiating from her neck told her she was failing miserably.

Ness’ mortified explanation hung in the air. Mitsuhide’s composure, usually so unyielding, wavered for a fleeting second. His amber eyes flicked from her burning face to Ieyasu, a subtle, almost imperceptible twitch playing at the corner of his lips. A flicker of genuine amusement danced in that gaze.

Ieyasu, however, remained utterly unreadable. 「Seen one?」 he repeated slowly, his voice a low rumble. His gaze, still fixed on the detailed drawing, sharpened further. 「Life drawing… is this how your healers study the body?」 He bypassed the social awkwardness entirely, as if his curiosity overrode any cultural shock.

Ness’ stomach lurched again, the heat radiating from her face reaching her ears. Oh, God. Naked bodies. Artists. Not healers. She could feel her entire being cringing inward. “It’s for artists, not… not healers. We don’t learn to draw in… biology class.” The words tumbled out, a desperate, fumbling attempt to clarify while simultaneously digging herself a deeper hole.

Ness dropped her head into her hand, desperate to escape. “Oh my God,” she murmured, her words a mortified mumble into her palm, “This is almost as bad as the time Duke tried to give me ‘the talk’.” 

The memory was a fresh wave of mortification. Duke, allegedly the most emotionally intelligent of her brothers, had looked like he’d rather be chewing off his own arm. Or driving me to a nunnery.

“What talk is that, Ness?” Mitsuhide’s voice was quiet, genuinely curious, but even his mastery couldn’t disguise the delight, the gentle amusement at her predicament and Ieyasu’s blissful ignorance.

A groan warmed her palm. “No, I take it back. This is definitely worse.” She forced herself to take a deep, pained breath, trying to pull herself upright, physically and emotionally. “Which,” she added, forcing a strained smile to her lips, “is probably not the calming effect you were going for?”

A soft, melodic chuckle escaped Mitsuhide. It wasn’t derisive laughter, but a warm, almost helpless sound, a recognition of the sheer absurdity of the exchange, the vast cultural chasm that had just opened up. His eyes, still holding a hint of their earlier amusement, crinkled at the corners.

And then, against her will, laughter erupted from her. The situation was completely absurd. A woman from the future, mortified by a discussion about naked bodies and art classes with two handsome Japanese warlords in her bedroom. The sheer ridiculousness of it all was a release valve for the crushing anxiety. The full-throated laughter made her chest seize in pain but the relief… oh, it was worth any pain.

Ieyasu watched them both, that piercing gaze almost softening, and he shook his head, as if he was silently acknowledging her utter strangeness. A comfortable silence settled over them, the echoes of her laughter still lingering in the air. But as the wave of cathartic amusement receded, the familiar surge of anxiety returned. Looking at the two men, so imposing yet so at ease in her private space, she felt uneasy. They were still here. They still wanted something.

Mitsuhide’s smile softened, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Ness,” he said gently, his voice a low murmur. “Ieyasu and I do not take your distress lightly. But what occurred earlier was essential to gain clarity on the nature of your… struggles.”

His words, intended to soothe, did little to quell the rising tide of her apprehension. Clarity. They still need clarity. That meant more questions, more digging, more exposure. She braced herself, expecting the familiar pressure.

Then Ieyasu spoke, his voice a gruff rumble that cut through the quiet. 「The methods were… unpleasant. For you. But necessary.」 He paused, his green eyes fixed on her, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. 「I took no satisfaction in it.」

Ness blinked, a wave of confusion washing over her. Was that… an apology? It didn’t sound like any apology she had ever received. She was beginning to understand that Ieyasu’s way of expressing things, whether compliments or apologies, was entirely beyond her experience. No wonder Mitsuhide was softening his words.

Mitsuhide, a hint of amusement dancing in his amber eyes, carefully continued, stepping in to provide the reassurance Ieyasu struggled with. “Our intention this evening is to strengthen your defenses against the chaos, not to seek out its… source.”

Ieyasu cleared his throat, the sound a low, rumbling vibration. He shifted his weight, his posture easing slightly, the rigid lines of his shoulders softening. He’s trying to be non-threatening again. He wasn’t towering quite as much. His voice, when it came, was controlled, almost… level. 「Ness. To be calm, you must be… in control. So, I am going to instruct you in a discipline, for the body.」 He was trying to frame his plan not as an intrusion or a demand, but as a tool for her to learn. 「We will… breathe. Learn to focus. Slow down. Stay in control.」

Ness looked down at the haphazard pile of papers, her gaze settling on the exposed figure. She reached out, her finger tracing the charcoal outline of the mouth, then moving towards the chest. 「Breathe,」 she murmured, a soft exhalation in the quiet room. The pieces clicked into place. The words Mitsuhide had taught her this evening. And now, Ieyasu was using them. As an instruction. A calming instruction.

A wave of fresh irritation washed over her. Mitsuhide. Of course. He hadn’t just been teaching her vocabulary; he’d been giving her the tools, the words, for this exact moment. For Ieyasu’s particular brand of… military meditation. Why couldn’t he just say that? Why the elaborate, silent setup? She shot a quick, annoyed glance at Mitsuhide, who was watching the exchange with a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Yet, beneath the irritation, a flicker of something else, something she fiercely resented, stirred within her. The lesson had been helpful. It had given her the words she needed, the context to understand Ieyasu’s intention. For a moment, it had felt as if Ieyasu was speaking directly to her. It was a strange, unexpected intimacy, facilitated by Mitsuhide’s carefully chosen lesson.

Ieyasu gestured vaguely towards the open doorway to the terrace. 「The air is less… stagnant, outside,」 he murmured, his voice returning to its more characteristic gruffness. 「We will continue there.」 It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a directive, but cloaked in a contrary observation. 

Ness raised her hand, a quick, careful adjustment of the bronze silk that wrapped her head, before she reached out to brace against the door frame. Then Ieyasu stepped forward, his hand extended, a solid, steady presence offering a practical support to her stiff body that she begrudgingly accepted.

As she moved onto the terrace, the cool evening air immediately met her face. She stopped, pulling in a deep, grateful, painful breath, letting her gaze sweep over the darkened garden. The rustling leaves, the scent of damp earth and unseen blossoms - this place was her respite, a sensory anchor on the dizzying emotional ride.

「Cold?」 Mitsuhide’s soft murmur came from behind her left shoulder, always so careful to maintain that respectful distance, to not be in her personal space.

「Cold.」 She murmured the word softly, another of the words they’d learned this evening, her mimicking of his sounds almost an automatic reflex now. Then a soft, heavy garment was draped over her shoulders. The pale blue silk, still warm from his body, settled around her, a cocoon of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool air. It was a silent, unasked-for gesture, both practical and unsettlingly possessive, and Ness, momentarily startled, felt a fresh wave of that strange, complicated mix of resentment and grudging gratitude.

She moved towards the spot on the terrace Ieyasu indicated, her muscles protesting with every controlled movement. As she settled, the warmth of Mitsuhide’s haori wrapped around her, the familiar weight of Ieyasu’s scarf protecting her shorn head, a peculiar image formed in her mind: her, oddly adorned, almost infantilised, draped in the colours of these two imposing men. It was almost… domestic. An unsettling parody of care.

And yet, an insidious thought, unbidden and terrifying, began to unfurl. Are they really just trying to help me? Are they just… not very good at it? The question, innocent on the surface, felt like a betrayal. The thought was too dangerous, too comforting, too utterly false. She shut it down, hard. She was not a ‘guest’. And they were simply managing her.

Still, I’d rather sleep than not. Her mind made up to at least attempt to engage, she refocused on the task at hand, her eyes following the warlords as they moved around her with something approaching caution.

Mitsuhide seemed to melt into a more relaxed, almost languid posture at her left side. His stark white hair framed a face that, even in stillness, hinted at hidden depths, his eyes glinting with restrained interest. His body held a subtle, fluid grace that contrasted with Ieyasu’s rigid authority. Ieyasu’s powerful build was evident even in repose, his movements efficient, a study in controlled strength. He settled himself on the wooden planks to her right, his posture meticulously straight, his eyes fixed on a distant point.

「Focus on your breath.」 There was no preamble, no further explanation from Ieyasu, just an immediate gruff, soft instruction. 「Slow the pace.」 He was still straight-backed, but there was a subtle ease about him, a quiet focus. 

Mitsuhide, in stark contrast, allowed a sinuous ease to spread through his form. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips as he tilted his head, eyes glinting with a clear, almost theatrical interest in the spectacle.

Then a flicker of irritation crossed Ieyasu’s calm profile and those bright green eyes flicked towards Mitsuhide. 「This exercise requires a certain focus,」 he murmured, his voice low, a touch dry. 「A focus that is disrupted by idle observation.」

There was a faint, undeniable glint of amusement in Mitsuhide’s eyes. He let out a soft laugh, a sound that held both understanding and a hint of playful exasperation. 「Then I shall endeavour to be… less observant, Ieyasu.」 He shifted forward, his back straightening, hands resting on his knees. His gaze flicked to her, and he let out a put-upon sigh, a clear theatrical performance.

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she tilted her head. “He’s making you join in, huh?” she murmured, her genuine amusement clear in her voice.

Mitsuhide offered a long-suffering shrug, managing to convey it even with his stillness. “I do have an uncanny knack for getting conscripted into unexpected duties, little mouse.” 

Ieyasu’s eyes seemed to narrow just a fraction, then his voice, still low, cut through the amusement, carrying an unmistakable note of finality. 「Enough. Ness. Focus.」

Ness closed her eyes, attempting to follow Ieyasu’s quiet instructions. His voice was a low current that carried her along, each word a deliberate, carefully chosen anchor of understanding. Her first few breaths were ragged, too deep, and a sharp, familiar throb echoed in her ribs. She winced, biting back a gasp.

It was a tiny wave in Ieyasu’s steady current. A moment of silence, then his voice, low, cautious, nearer to her. 「I am going to touch you now, Ness.」  He paused, as if waiting for Mitsuhide’s careful translation to make his intentions clear.

Her eyes flicked open, narrowed, slipped towards his face. His expression was calm, focused, almost clinical. She dipped her head in a silent nod. Ieyasu’s hand, firm and warm, settled lightly on her sternum. She braced herself for the flinch, the inevitable trembling, but there was just… subtle pressure. 

「Shallow. Do not press. Focus on the air here.」 Ieyasu’s thumb traced a gentle path just beneath her collarbone, guiding the breath higher, preventing the painful expansion of her chest. The warmth of his skin lingered even as his hand withdrew.

She concentrated, forcing her mind to empty, to focus solely on the delicate movement of air. For a time, a fragile calm even settled. But then, as her mind tried to still, the silence became an invitation. Fragments of memory, dark and chilling, began to drift in. She dug her fingernails into her palm, the carefully shallow rhythm faltering, trying to refocus. Just breathe. Slow. Shallow. She squeezed her eyes tighter, fighting the rising tide of panic.

There was a soft rustle of cloth to her left, then Mitsuhide’s voice, a rustle almost as soft, a barely perceptible murmur breaking the quiet. “Listen, little mouse.” He offered a gentle redirection, as if he’d sensed her struggle. “What do you hear? The rustle of the leaves. The distant sounds of Azuchi.”

「Focus on your body, Ness.」 Ieyasu’s voice returned to its gruff, instructing cadence, reinforcing the external focus. 「Listen to the garden. Find the stillness there.」

Ness clung to their voices, forcing her attention outward, straining to pick out individual sounds in the night. The rustle of the maple tree. The murmur of water. The distant croak of a frog. And then, beneath it all, a steady, rhythmic cadence. Deep. Slow. The twin pulses of Ieyasu’s and Mitsuhide’s breathing, a perfectly synchronised oscillation in the quiet darkness. Unbidden, her own shallow gasps began to resonate, drawing her into their shared frequency, a strange symphony whispering beneath the subtle notes of garden life. The frantic thoughts began to recede, and the tension in her chest eased, replaced by the unexpected weight of their shared breaths, a silent promise of… stillness.

Ness luxuriated in it, the calm a gentle tide washing over her, easing the vise-like grip of anxiety. It was an almost alien sensation, this peace, a quiet revolution in the constant clamor of her mind. Ieyasu’s voice, which had guided her with gruff precision, faded, his instruction replaced by the steady, resonant pulse of their presence. For a long while, only the soft, communal sigh of their breaths filled the darkness, a quiet, intimate concert.

Slowly, imperceptibly, the shared cadence softened, each returning to their own individual pace, yet still woven together by the lingering thread of connection, a faint, shared hum in the tranquil air. 

The spell, fragile and precious, broke with Mitsuhide’s quiet, almost reflective murmur. 「Ieyasu, your discipline seems to have had a remarkably… calming effect on our patient.」 His voice held its usual dry wit, but there was a subtle current beneath it, a hint of genuine, grudging admiration. 「A regrettable side effect, however, is that my usual observations may become less… stimulating.」

Ieyasu let out a low, almost imperceptible growl. 「My patient is not here for your entertainment, Mitsuhide.」 His voice was flat, gruff, a clear warning.

Ness, feeling the shift in the atmosphere, opened her eyes. The specific words were, as always, beyond her. She shifted her gaze towards Mitsuhide, tilting her head just slightly, raising an eyebrow to indicate her desire for understanding.

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes, which had been fixed on some internal landscape, snapped to hers. A slow, infuriating smile spread across his lips, an expression of genuine, unmasked amusement. “You are so… wonderfully expressive, little mouse,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, his eyes warm with an almost intimate appreciation. “I fear Ieyasu’s efforts may blunt your more… entertaining reactions.” He paused, clearly expecting a flicker of indignation, perhaps a sharp retort.

Instead, a soft, genuine laugh escaped her, even as his intimate, almost flirtatious, teasing brought a subtle heat to her cheeks. “Well,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly, a wry smile playing on her lips, “I’m sure you’ll find something else to occupy you.”

Mitsuhide’s amusement deepened. “Indeed,” he agreed, a mock-somber nod. His gaze lingered on her, a thoughtful glint in his amber eyes. “Though it seems,” he mused, his voice a low, almost private sound, “the well of… interesting reactions… is not yet entirely dry.”

Ness met his gaze, the amusement fading slightly as she observed him. “Do you ever relax?” she said, her voice shifting to a more reflective tone. “It must be exhausting in your head.”

A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through Ieyasu’s shoulders, quickly suppressed. His gaze, fixed on the distant garden, held a curious stillness, betraying nothing.

Mitsuhide tilted his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Is that,” he murmured, his voice a low invitation, “an invitation to share the burden of my… excess questions?”

Ness shrugged, a slow, casual gesture. “Do you need one?” she countered, a hint of challenge in her voice. “You never have before.”

A low rumbling sound, almost like a suppressed cough, escaped Ieyasu. He remained unmoving, his gaze still fixed ahead, but the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his stern mouth.

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes, which had been observing her with unblinking intensity, flicked to Ieyasu for a fleeting instant, as if he was subtly acknowledging their shared, peculiar entertainment. Then his gaze returned to her, the amusement in his eyes softening into something thoughtful, almost cautious. He paused, letting the weight of his unspoken questions hang in the air, before selecting one with deliberate precision. “Who is the Duke, little mouse,” he asked, the question seemingly simple, “and what did he wish to talk to you about? A… proposal, perhaps?”

Ness blinked, taken aback by the unexpected direction of his inquiry. Of all the things he could ask, this felt… almost mundane. The sheer surprise, coupled with the lingering calm from the breath work, loosened her tongue. A soft laugh escaped her. “That would be a shock,” she said without thinking, the absurdity of the idea genuinely amusing. 

Then she paused, the amusement fading slightly as the implications of his question settled. The Duke. She could let the misunderstanding stand. It was simpler that way. “He’s my brother,” she answered, her voice steady, a subtle shift in her tone. 

Both men stiffened, a faint ripple of surprise passing between them. Ieyasu’s head, which had been fixed on the garden, turned sharply, his green eyes now directly on her, a rare, unblinking focus. Mitsuhide’s expression didn’t crack, but his gaze seemed to sharpen, intensifying.

“Your… brother?” Mitsuhide murmured, his voice laced with cautious intrigue. He tilted his head, a hint of genuine confusion in his eyes, clearly grappling with the vague answer. “And this talk was about… what, precisely?”

Ness managed to suppress the mischievous smile. “He was trying to educate me on matters of health and… responsibility.” She saw their brows furrow, the words not quite connecting in their minds. A soft, wry chuckle escaped her, and she leaned forward, her voice dropping to an amused murmur, “In an… intimate sense.”

The reaction was immediate, though subdued. Ieyasu’s eyes widened, a flash of genuine shock in their depths, and he swallowed hard, a visible bob of his Adam’s apple. Mitsuhide’s smile, though still present, seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second, his amber eyes reflecting a stunned incredulity before regaining their composure.

Ness restrained the laughter, but not her obvious amusement. “That shocks you.” She paused, her smile softening. “Well… our society is… far more open than yours,” she clarified, looking between their still-surprised faces. “And under the circumstances, it would be considered… not typical but… understandable.”

Ieyasu cleared his throat, his gruff voice a little rougher than usual. 「Under what circumstances, Ness?」

Ness shifted, turning her gaze back to the darkened garden, her voice softening, almost as if speaking to herself. “I… I have no mother, you see. Or sisters.” She paused, then gave another light shrug. “My brothers were trying to look out for me, in their own awkward way.”

Mitsuhide let out a low, thoughtful sound, his interest clearly piqued by the burgeoning anecdote. “And how,” he prompted, his voice casual but laced with intrigue, “did this Duke’s… education… proceed?”

Ness laughed, a genuine uninhibited sound that held a lingering trace of past mortification, now transformed into humour. “Not well. He’s my most emotionally competent brother, so I guess that’s why he drew the short straw. But he got two sentences into his obviously rehearsed speech before he turned tail and ran.” The memory of Duke’s face turning as red as his hair resurfaced, vivid and genuinely funny now despite the excruciating embarrassment then. 

“I see.” Mitsuhide’s amber eyes gleamed. “And would you share the contents of these… awkward few sentences?”

Ness shifted, straightening her posture, trying to make herself appear larger and more serious, her face mimicking the gravitas of her brother. She pitched her voice low, attempting to capture Duke’s gravelly tone, even pausing to take that faint, soft breath that always preceded his lectures. “Now, Nessie…” she began, then broke off, dissolving into helpless giggles. “When a… when a man and a woman love each other very much…” She couldn’t continue, the attempt at capturing her brother failing spectacularly as laughter consumed her. 

Mitsuhide’s laughter was clear and uninhibited, his amber eyes sparkling with curiosity and amusement as her giggles finally passed. “A truly eloquent start to such a delicate matter, little mouse.”

Ness shrugged gently, her posture relaxing again. “It was kind of adorable. Who knew he was such a romantic? I’d have laughed, if I hadn’t been too busy praying for God to strike me down.”

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a flicker of stern amusement in his eyes. 「Did this… strategic misstep lead to surrender?」

“Oh, no.” Ness shook her head, the mischievous smile remaining. “Then they sent my least emotionally competent brother. He just brought me a book and pointed at it with a pained expression.” She laughed again, softly, thinking of poor, logical Baron. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d already read it. His face was just so… earnest.”

“‘They’ sent him?” Mitsuhide pressed, his voice light, conversational, yet with an unmistakable undertone of continued inquiry. “And did… ‘they’ make further efforts, little mouse?”

“The book seemed to close the matter, thankfully.” Her laughter was more wistful than amused now. “I heard a few… murmurings about what the others were planning, but nothing ever materialised. Which is a mercy, truly. The indignity might have finished me off entirely.”

Mitsuhide’s gaze lingered on her, a knowing glint in his eyes. “It sounds as if your brothers could form a small army,” he mused, his voice neutral, yet the question about their number hung implicitly in the air.

Ness met his gaze, her amusement deepening at his relentless probing. “I don’t need more, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

A low, rumbling sound, almost a chuckle, escaped Ieyasu, quickly suppressed, but his shoulders shook with it for a brief moment. Mitsuhide’s lips twitched, a genuine, delighted smile spreading across his face. Ness settled into the ensuing silence, a faint smile on her lips, tilting her head back to gaze at the sky. It was as black as an ink wash, the stars scattered across it in a dazzling blaze unlike anything in the modern day. They’re the same. But they’re not… the same. Her fragile peace was abruptly overshadowed by the stark reality.

Mitsuhide cleared his throat softly, leaning in just slightly towards her, his expression shifting to one of subtle… mischief. But his eyes told her he was offering a gentle redirection. He sees through me so easily. It was unsettling, how much those eyes saw. It made her question if she should try harder to fool him, or simply give up trying at all.

“Ieyasu tells me,” Mitsuhide finally spoke, his voice tinged with amusement, “that Hideyoshi has found quite a few reasons to visit him of late.”

A low grumble of complaint came from Ieyasu, followed by a resigned sigh. 「Yesterday, he brought my post. He’s not even trying anymore.」

Mitsuhide’s eyes gleamed, his smile widening ever so subtly. “He stopped by to see you, Ness? Did my lessons prove useful to you?”

Ness thought of Hideyoshi, a kind, considerate, smiling wonder of a man who occasionally intruded into her room after meeting with Ieyasu. He was gracious, attentive, and yet… he treated her as if she was incapable, and worse, as if he was somehow responsible . As if I’m unable to be responsible for myself. “He is…” she chose her words carefully, “a very nice man.”

Mitsuhide tilted his head, his laughter soft, but then he paused. Those gleaming eyes, holding her gaze with unnerving intensity, seemed to see past her conscious guards. “That is a more… subdued response than people usually have to our dear Hideyoshi.”

Ieyasu, listening with his usual stoic intensity, shifted almost imperceptibly. His jaw tightened, and a faint frown creased his brow, a subtle sign of displeasure with no clear cause. Was it Mitsuhide’s probing? Hideyoshi’s visit? Something else entirely?

Ness considered for a moment how to explain, or whether to explain at all. “He just… fusses too much,” she finally said, a note of exasperation in her voice.

Mitsuhide’s lips twitched, a spark of amusement lighting his eyes. “Fusses?” he echoed, his gaze sweeping between Ness and Ieyasu. “Is the same not true of me and Ieyasu?”

Ness didn’t even think. “That’s different,” she retorted, the words out before she could catch them. She stopped, her brow furrowing, the simple, unthinking articulation of that truth forcing her to confront it.

The two men remained silent, watching her, giving her the rare, patient space to sort through the sudden realisation. Her gaze drifted between them. What is it about you two? Why is it different? They hovered, they checked on her, they gave her no space, and they pushed her, yes. But they also expected her to push back, to engage, to work for her own recovery. To stay in control. They gave her tools. They never treated her as weak, as incapable, as someone who couldn’t cope.

She finally looked up, filled with a newfound, almost overwhelming clarity. What followed was a soft, certain statement. “You two don’t look at me like I’m… a victim.” 

Both men fell silent for a long moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Mitsuhide’s faint smile softened, a thoughtful, almost pensive expression replacing his usual amusement.

Ieyasu’s gaze, which had been fixed on her face, slipped towards the garden again, but his jaw remained tight, a subtle sign of his internal processing. Then he cleared his throat, the sound a little rougher than usual. 「Victims give up.」 His voice was gruff and firm, a simple declaration of fact.

The raw power of his blunt, unsentimental statement hit her with unexpected force. Startled, she looked at his profile, silhouetted against the faint moonlight of the garden, and for a fleeting moment, she could have sworn there was a faint redness to his ear. As if he’d made himself profoundly uncomfortable. 

But more than surprise, she felt seen. Not as broken, but as… enduring. Like the Dara knot. The roots of the oak tree.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the unspoken understanding a tangible thing in the tranquil air. Nothing more needed to be said. Then, a soft yawn escaped her, a physical manifestation of the exhaustion finally catching up to her.

Ieyasu, ever the disciplinarian, seized on the cue. 「Your bed is indoors, Ness,」 he grunted, his gruff voice a little more abrupt than usual, underlaid with a subtle irritation. 「Unless you intend to sleep here?」

The contrary tone itself hardly registered, so accustomed was she to his bark now, but the thought of going to sleep brought with it a subtle wave of icy anxiety. It was a fear that this moment of peace, this feeling of safety, couldn’t entirely erase. The darkness of sleep still held its terrors. 

Mitsuhide leaned forward, a slight, subtle shift, to offer a gentle… anchor. “Ieyasu and I will be in our rooms if you need us,” he murmured, his voice soft, a quiet promise of presence. “You can come through the garden.” His gaze indicated the path back towards their rooms.

His simple words were like a jolt. Not fear, but a strange, bewildering confusion. That these men, the ones who’d taken her freedom, were offering her comfort was a concept her mind was too weary to grapple with. 

「I will come if you are… in distress.」 Ieyasu’s words were obviously an effort to soothe, his own form of reassurance, but the bluntness of them made her bristle. It sounded like a clinical assessment, not a comforting promise.

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she and her 'distress' did not need him… but then Ieyasu let out a sigh that was almost resigned. Those sharp, green eyes fixed on her, unwavering, and - not for the first time - Ness wondered if he saw far more than he let on. 「If you don’t want me there, then you must prove that you can stay in control.」

The demand was so inherently him. Ness sighed, a soft sound of weary acceptance. She nodded, not just in agreement, but in acknowledgement of the challenge. Prove it. He was demanding her capability, and she would never back down from that.

She took a long, shallow breath, exhaling slowly, then inclined her head to each of them in turn. 「Good night, Ieyasu. Good night, Mitsuhide.」 Ness rose from her seat slowly, leaving the haori, too long and cumbersome for safe movement in the dark, behind where she’d been.

“Is there anything else you need before you retire, Ness?” 

Mitsuhide’s question stopped her at the screen door. The reflex, the default, the ingrained response, almost tripped off her tongue. But then she paused, the echoes of the evening’s conversation lingering. She thought of Ieyasu, pushing her, unyielding, not just to state her needs, but to address them. And Mitsuhide, constantly coaxing her, not just to speak, but to learn to communicate. She let out a sigh.

She turned back slightly, the gazes of both men fixed upon her, before her eyes flicked towards the lantern on the terrace. 「Please…」 Her voice was soft, a touch of hesitation as she formed the unfamiliar words. 「Take… the light.」

Her gaze drifted back towards them. Mitsuhide’s thoughtful expression had deepened. There was no longer the mask of amusement, but a genuine, almost tender regard that acknowledged her effort to communicate. To both of them. Beside him, Ieyasu remained stoic, his jaw still tight, but his green eyes were fixed on her. Then, almost in concert, they both inclined their heads in subtle nods.

Ness stepped back into the cool, dark safety of her bedroom, taking a certain strange sense of stillness with her. Her simple request, spoken in hesitant Japanese, had been heard, understood and accepted without judgement. It was a quiet, foolish victory.

She slipped into bed in the darkness, the true battle ahead still awaiting, and tried to cling to the calm, the stillness, the safety, as the glow of the lantern moved away through the garden. And that thought again, unbidden, unwanted, undeniable, arose: are they really just trying to help?

Chapter Text

The morning sun, still a gentle warmth rather than a harsh glare, spilled across the terrace. Ness sat with her back against the wall, the sunlight encroaching upon her toes, her makeshift, ribbon-bound sketchbook open on her lap. The sharpened tip of charcoal moved with meticulous care across the page, capturing the intricate vein patterns of a large, unfamiliar leaf. Her focus was absolute, a familiar escape into the precise, silent world of botanical illustration.

Yet, beneath the surface of her concentration, a bone-deep weariness lingered. The night had been bad, a swirling vortex of fragmented memories and terror that had clung to her long after she’d woken. Ieyasu had come again, patiently guiding her through his “discipline” of breath and control. But even his unwavering resolve hadn’t been enough to entirely banish the fear, and it had felt like hours before a fragile, exhausted sleep finally claimed her.

Logically, she knew healing wasn’t instantaneous, but the reality of another night lost to fear was a heavy weight. She felt a prick of disappointment, a quiet frustration that despite his efforts, despite her own desperate attempts to grasp the control he offered, the nights remained a battleground she was far from winning.

She was so absorbed, so deeply immersed in the quiet concentration of her art, that she didn’t hear the whisper of footsteps approaching, didn’t sense the familiar presence until a voice, low and smooth, spoke beside her. 「Good morning, little mouse. Already at your studies?」

Ness flinched, her head snapping up, charcoal clutched in her hand. Then, the tension ebbed with a faint pulse of relief. Mitsuhide. He was seated beside her, as effortlessly silent as ever, his amber eyes already assessing her. “Your hand is steady, even if your night was not.”

The eyes held a flicker of something deeper, a gentle, unspoken sympathy. But the words, calm and observant, reminded her of the inescapable truth: both he and Ieyasu, their rooms so close, heard everything. Even if only Ieyasu came to her, they both bore witness to the nights she couldn’t manage on her own. 

She forced a tight, non-committal smile. 「Good morning, Mitsuhide,」 she replied, her voice a little rougher than she intended. She couldn’t admit to the depth of her struggles, not to him, not willingly. It wasn’t fair that they kept forcing her to acknowledge it, as if talking about it once had been enough to let them claim it as their ground.

Mitsuhide’s gaze softened slightly, losing its sharp edge of observation. “You work diligently, Ness. But even the most diligent student requires time to master a new discipline.”

Ness gave a faint, wry smile. “It seems some lessons take longer than others.”

“The path to mastery is rarely a straight one.” Mitsuhide’s voice was gentle, a subtle prod.

She didn’t know what to say to that. The idea of mastery over her nightmares felt impossibly distant, a mythical goal. She offered a vague hum of agreement, refocusing on the drawing in front of her, pretending to adjust a line so she could steal a moment of quiet.

Mitsuhide continued, his tone thoughtful. “It is not the immediacy of the result that matters, but the persistence of effort.”

Ness let out a soft laugh, a quick puff of air that held a hint of deflection. “Careful,” she warned, looking at him with amusement. “You’re starting to sound like Ieyasu.”

A faint smile touched Mitsuhide’s lips. “Ieyasu expects great things from his patients. But yours is not a simple problem, Ness, and thus, your solutions will not be simple.”

“That’s a pity,” Ness said, her tone dry, “I was really hoping for a magic pill.” She sighed then, a soft, dark chuckle escaping her. “Though I suppose that would hold less interest for you.”

Mitsuhide’s gentle smile held a touch of something unreadable. “My interest, little mouse, is in seeing my favourite student fulfill her potential.”

Ness felt a familiar prickle of discomfort at the veiled intensity in his words. Favourite student. The phrase, while seemingly a compliment, felt like another layer of expectation. She didn’t want to dwell on potential, on disappointments, on the lingering shadows of the night. She wanted the solid ground of routine, the predictable rhythm of their lessons.

“Right,” she said, her voice a little too sharp, gently placing her sketchbook aside. She met his gaze, silently asserting the boundary. “So, the lesson then. What will the subject be today?”

Mitsuhide’s smile widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah, yes, the lesson.” He gestured vaguely towards the far end of the terrace, towards the entrance to Ieyasu’s main quarters. “Perhaps,” he mused, his tone conversational, “we will wait and see what our guest wishes to discuss?”

Our guest? The word immediately cut through Ness’ weariness and her desire for routine, bringing a ripple of unexpected anticipation. A deviation, yes, but a potentially welcome one. A change in the carefully constructed rhythm of her days that might bring a new face, a new voice. A flicker of genuine, hopeful curiosity overrode any discomfort. “A guest?” she inquired, trying to keep the eagerness from showing in her voice. “Really? I’ve never had a guest before. Well, except Hideyoshi. Why now?”

Mitsuhide’s smile became more pronounced, a subtle… amusement in his amber eyes. “Ieyasu has determined,” he explained, his tone carefully diplomatic, “that your recovery has progressed to a point where you are able to receive visitors.”

Ness blinked, a dawning realisation replacing her initial excitement. “Wait,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “He wouldn’t let anyone see me?”

Mitsuhide let out a soft, genuine laugh, a warm, amused vibration with just a hint of sympathy. “Which is precisely why Hideyoshi has found so many reasons to visit Ieyasu these past few weeks. To assuage the concern of his fellow impatient warlords, of course.”

She looked through the open screen door, her gaze drawn to the lines etched on the wall - twenty-one lines now, a silent, stark tally of the days. Three weeks. She sighed, a deep sound of exasperation with a hint of resignation. “It’s been three weeks,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Surely even he recognises how unreasonable that is?”

More warm laughter from Mitsuhide, his head tilting as he examined her expression with a gleam of amusement in those knowing, amber eyes. “Ieyasu has… his own unique perspective on what constitutes ‘reasonable’ when it comes to the well-being of his charges.”

His own unique perspective. Unique was one word for it. Infuriatingly controlling was another. Ieyasu’s reasonableness was a constantly moving target. But three weeks of isolation, even with her injuries, felt excessive. A part of her chafed against the enforced solitude. But then, the thought of a guest, a break in the monotony, a chance to interact with someone new, pushed the familiar frustration aside.

Her gaze returned to Mitsuhide, renewed curiosity burning within her. “Who is the guest?”

As if in response to her question, a figure emerged from the entrance to Ieyasu’s quarters and began to make his way along the terrace. He moved with an undeniable presence, a man who commanded attention without effort. His gaze swept across the garden, sharp and assessing, before settling on Ness.

It was Nobunaga.

His appearance immediately answered her question, the air on the terrace shifting subtly with his arrival. The guest was here.

Nobunaga reached them, his piercing gaze settling on Ness, then flicking to Mitsuhide. 「Mitsuhide,」 he acknowledged, the name spoken with a familiar ease that spoke volumes of their long-standing relationship. He didn’t wait for a reply, his attention already back on her.

Ness tilted forward slightly, ignoring the faint throb in her ribs to offer a soft, polite greeting. 「Good morning, Nobunaga.」 She took the moment, the opportunity of bowing her head, to try to compose her face. Oh my fucking God, a warning would have been nice, Mitsuhide.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Nobunaga’s features, a subtle shift. Mitsuhide tilted his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. 「Ness struggles to fully appreciate the… nuances of address, my lord.」

Nobunaga’s lips curved into a slow smile, a glint entering his eyes as he looked at her. 「She speaks to all of you like this?」

「She treats most individuals with a disarming level of… straightforwardness.」 Mitsuhide’s tone was neutral, his gaze briefly meeting hers, a hint of amusement in his amber eyes. He offered her no translation of their exchange.

「Indeed,」 Nobunaga murmured, his voice a low, resonant rumble. He seated himself with an effortless grace, then leaned forward slightly, those extraordinary carnelian eyes slowly moving as they assessed her appearance. He made no effort to hide it. 「Good morning, Ness,」 he finally said, his voice calm. 「Your health improves and Ieyasu finally relaxes his guard. I thought he’d keep my lucky charm locked away forever.」

Ness stiffened as Mitsuhide’s low, neutral cadence finally provided the understanding, her jaw tightening. Lucky charm? The words grated on her, reducing her to an inanimate object, a mere trinket. She didn’t want to be a charm, or a possession, or anything but herself. Her gaze snapped to Mitsuhide. “Lucky charm?” she clarified, her voice tight with suppressed indignation. “You mean like… a rabbit’s foot?”

Mitsuhide’s perfect composure fractured slightly, a hint of confusion touching his expression. “A… rabbit’s foot, Ness? I confess, I am not familiar with such a talisman. What is its significance?”

Ness exhaled slowly, her frustration momentarily overshadowed by the need to explain. “It’s a superstition,” she began, her voice lightly strained. “Carrying a rabbit’s foot is supposed to bring good luck.” She paused, the full, stark implications of her own words hitting her. “Not for the rabbit, of course.”

Mitsuhide let out a soft, almost soundless laugh, a genuine ripple of amusement escaping him. Nobunaga’s smile, already present, broadened into a genuine, unrestrained chuckle, a surprising sound that filled the morning air. His head tilted back slightly, his mirth clear and uninhibited. Ness simply blinked. It’s easy to laugh when you’re not the rabbit.

Nobunaga, his chuckle subsiding, looked back at her. Those inscrutable eyes studied her face for another long moment. 「You are no rabbit, Ness Flynn,」 he spoke, his voice low, his tone shifting to one of almost instructional patience. 「You are the woman who appeared at a moment of dire peril for our nation. You absorbed the danger, deflected fate. In doing so, you preserved not only my life, but the future of those who follow me.」  

He paused, allowing Mitsuhide a moment to catch up as he precisely, carefully chose how to translate each word. Peril for our nation. Deflected fate. Every word put her just a little more on edge, adding an extra hint of anxiety. Oh my God, what did I do? 

「I call you my ‘lucky charm’, not to belittle you, but because you are a woman who has brought us immense good fortune. A living talisman.」 The weight of Nobunaga’s grave words, delivered with absolute and terrifying sincerity, settled heavily.

A living talisman. It was all so alien, so steeped in a worldview she couldn’t fully grasp, and it made her deeply uncomfortable. It felt like another layer of entanglement, another chain being forged. And I was never supposed to be here at all. I was never supposed to save him. She didn’t want to be an object of good fortune; she needed to be invisible, to have no more impact.

Nobunaga’s head tilted slightly, his gaze sharp, a flicker of something akin to bewilderment crossing his face. 「And you did this… without apparent reason. Without being commanded. Without expectation of reward. Without knowing the weight of the life you saved.」

Confronted with his genuine, if utterly foreign, confusion, a familiar impulse rose within her - the urge to clarify, to explain, to treat him as she would the old man, give her perspective and demand clear explanations for what she didn’t understand. Don’t back down. Treat it with humour and lightness. Be gentle but… steady.

“I had a reason.” She paused for a fraction of a second, considering whether to elaborate, but she was who she was, and she needed to truly comprehend the chasm of understanding between them. “It gave me a reason to drag myself off the ground before I burned to death, after all.”

Nobunaga’s initial reaction was a pause, a flicker of surprise, then deep amusement. His gaze darted to Mitsuhide, a question in his eyes, expecting clarification. 「She says… I gave her a reason to live?」 he asked, a low rumble of laughter beginning in his chest.

Mitsuhide, his own lips twitching, offered a brief, respectful nod. 「Yes, my lord. That is my understanding.」 His eyes flicked to her, an almost imperceptible glance with a gleam of amusement.

Nobunaga laughed, a deep, genuine sound that rang through the garden, as if he was delighting in her audacity. 「Remarkable. Truly.」 He shook his head, then looked back at Ness, his eyes still sparkling with mirth.

“That amuses you,” she murmured, her gaze meeting his. The easy amusement in his eyes seemed to solidify, then deepen, a silent challenge passing between them. Ness didn’t back down. She held his gaze, her mind flashing back to the inferno, the searing heat, the sheer, overwhelming exhaustion, the desperate desire to simply lie down and let the flames consume her.

A slow sigh escaped her, a sound heavy with the unspoken burden. “When I woke up in that fire, I… I was done.” She met that thoughtful gaze, those eyes that had first so terrified her, and willed him to understand the truth of that moment. “Every breath, every movement was… it was too much. I didn’t want to get up. But then, I heard that voice…” She paused, the memory of that excruciating effort, the agony of pushing her battered body, momentarily stealing her breath. 

“I truly did need a reason… to keep trying.” Those carnelian eyes barely blinked, meeting hers with an intent focus as she chose to bare her true selfish reasons. “And the one I found was that I… I didn’t want to let you die. And I was capable of saving you. No, I needed to be capable of it. To act.” Her voice was soft, but she tried to convey her absolute conviction. It was a simple, visceral truth, born of a moment of unimaginable extremity. Her gaze lingered on his, a silent question conveyed - do you understand, truly? 

Nobunaga’s thoughtful, penetrating gaze seemed to strip away every defense she possessed. There was no anger, no offense, just an intense, almost bewildered study. A slight tilt of his head, a slow, deliberate nod that wasn’t agreement but a silent contemplation.

“We both lived,” she murmured softly, trying to control the faint, almost inaudible tremor in her voice, “so I already got what I wanted from our… fortuitous meeting. That’s all there is to it, to me.”

After what felt like an eternity, a very slow, almost private smile formed on his lips. It wasn’t mirth; it was a deep, satisfied intrigue. Then Nobunaga waved a hand, a dismissing gesture that somehow did not feel dismissive . 「You do not understand the weight of such things, Ness Flynn. A life debt from Oda Nobunaga is not dismissed so easily.」 There was no anger in his voice, more a touch of playful challenge.

Ness felt a sharp flicker of wariness. She might not fully grasp the intricate tapestry of their honour code, but this wasn’t her first encounter with their concepts of duty, obligation, and the weight of such things. The image of Ieyasu’s face, his absolute conviction as he proclaimed his duty, flashed through her mind. She understood that this was profoundly important to them, even if it felt like an unnecessary burden to her. 

“I do not intend to be… dismissive,” she said, her voice cautious, carefully choosing her words. “And I intend no offense. I understand this is of importance to you. I am simply… ensuring you understand our differences in perspective.”

Nobunaga regarded her with a steady gaze, a touch of amusement in his eyes, but tinged with a clear expectation. 「And how do you suggest these differences are reconciled?」 he asked, his tone a subtle challenge.

Ness shrugged, considering the wisdom for just a moment before she articulated the only possible solution. “Perhaps we should simply agree to disagree.”

Nobunaga’s expression shifted, a blend of amusement and genuine bewilderment. 「Agree to disagree?」 he echoed, the concept clearly foreign to him. He paused, considering her words, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. 「You are negotiating for neither of us to get what we want?」

Ness met that disbelieving gaze with determination. That was, indeed, the core of her position. And for both of us to get what we want, too, in a way. She took a shallow, steadying breath. “If I can accept your desire to repay me hanging over my head,” she said, her voice steady and clear, “then you can accept the fact that I will never ask for repayment.”

Nobunaga’s gaze held hers, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he processed her audacious proposal. 「You will not ask.」 He leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face. 「But… will you refuse my help if I offer it? Out of… stubborn principle?」

Ness laughed softly. “Me? Stubborn?” She kept her voice light, almost playful. “Whoever gave you that idea?” A quick glance towards Mitsuhide, a silent acknowledgement of her understanding. You tell him everything, don’t you? She turned back to Nobunaga, her smile fading as she adopted a more serious tone. “If I believe I truly need it, even I would not refuse.”

「You truly are a woman of… singular perspective.」 His smile returned, sharp and genuine, tinged with a predatory amusement. 「Very well. You may leave it in my hands. And I will trust in your good sense to know when help is truly needed.」 

“Well, if you’re offering, it’s probably worth considering.” Ness shrugged, a complex mix of wariness and a strange, reluctant relief swirling within her. She had navigated the impossible, found a way to stand her ground without giving offense. But it wasn’t a victory, not even a precarious one. It was simply a deferral. And hopefully she’d be gone long before she had to worry about refusing him.

Mitsuhide, observing the exchange with his usual quiet intensity, offered a brief, almost imperceptible nod, a flicker of approval in his eyes. It was enough to make her cheeks burn, a fresh wave of irritation washing over her at the unwanted validation. He sees too much… and understands even more.

Nobunaga, his eyes still holding that glint of amusement, casually shifted his weight, his gaze sweeping across the terrace. It landed on her ribbon-bound sketchbook, tossed beside her on the sunlit wooden planks. Without a word, or even a glance in her direction, he leaned forward, an effortless assertion of command, and picked it up. He settled back, the thin stack of pages balanced in his hands, his carnelian eyes already perusing the first few intricate drawings.

Ness stiffened, a prickle of irritation sparking through her. There was nothing truly private within its pages - only the meticulous lines of unfamiliar flora - but the casual, unasked-for intrusion still chafed. A familiar frustration at the constant invasion of her personal space, however minor, clenched within her. The charcoal pencil in her hand began to tap, unconsciously, against her leg. Then, an elegant hand stilled her motion with a fleeting touch of a cool fingertip, a gentle jolt into a pause. Mitsuhide offered a faint, almost imperceptible shake of his head, his amber eyes softening as he shifted slightly, a silent reassurance, a subtle anchor urging her restraint.

Nobunaga, oblivious or unconcerned, continued to turn the pages slowly, his expression thoughtful. 「It is a cascade of leaves and petals,」 he murmured, his voice a low, resonant rumble, a hint of genuine interest in the unfamiliar forms. He paused on a page filled with the delicate tracery of a fern, then looked up, his gaze settling on her, a deeper curiosity now simmering beneath the amusement. 「You possess the eye to capture the essence of a man so clearly in your art, Ness Flynn. Why do you choose to draw only plants?」

Ness paused, a glance at Mitsuhide, before she returned her attention to Nobunaga. “The… essence? I’m not sure I understand.”

Nobunaga tilted his head just slightly, that intent, thoughtful gaze returning to her face, as if the answer to his question could be found there. 「You draw the form with such detail,」 he murmured, his voice taking on a serious tone. 「Yet, it was not that which made your portrait of Kennyo so… lifelike. You caught something else of him, something that cannot be seen. Tell me how.」

Kennyo. That’s the assassin’s name then? His question pulled her back to that moment, to the weight of it, the unexpected clarity. “Some things… they just are,” she said, her voice quiet, reflective. “He wore it openly, I suppose. It was so clear.”

「’It’?」 Nobunaga pressed, his interest piqued. 「And what is it that you saw so clearly?」

Ness took a shallow breath, just as Ieyasu had been teaching her, and let it out in a long, slow exhale. “Grief,” she murmured softly, then a pause, before continuing, “Grief is why he hates you, isn’t it?” She was kicking herself before she’d finished but it was already out there, Mitsuhide translating.

There was a subtle arch of Nobunaga’s brow, but his expression was unreadable. Then he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. 「It is, Ness Flynn.」 It was a simple confirmation, given without shame. Then he shifted, leaning back just slightly. 「Is it always so? Do you always see people with such… clarity?」

Ness shook her head. “No. It’s like meeting anybody for the first time. Sometimes, the connection is… instant. Other times,” she shrugged, “it takes a great deal of time to build a connection. Which is why I prefer to draw plants.” She paused, letting out a soft laugh. “They have a less complicated internal life.”

Nobunaga’s eyes gleamed, a challenge forming in their depths. 「And can you capture me? With a portrait?」

The question amused her. She lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze with a wry smile playing on her lips. “I suspect it would take more than one attempt. Perhaps not even then.” She kept her voice light, but she was being honest. “You are… rather inscrutable.”

Nobunaga’s laughter rang out, a deeper, richer sound this time, filling the morning air. 「Inscrutable? A challenge, then.」 He settled into a more relaxed pose, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying himself. His gaze swept over her, a teasing glint in his eye, but his question was sharp, revealing his true interest. 「And the others? Can you capture them with such clarity? Ieyasu? Mitsuhide? Tell me, Ness. Who is the most difficult? Who reveals the least?」

Ness looked at Mitsuhide, who maintained his perfect, enigmatic composure. She considered his words, the subtle manipulations, the quiet support he’d offered, and the vast, unreadable depths behind his amber eyes. She paused, searching for the right words. “Mitsuhide,” she began, her voice thoughtful, “I can capture the lines of his face, the perfect symmetry of his eyebrows, the way his lips curve just so,” she gestured lightly, “but… the face is not the man. It is only what he wants to show me.”

Nobunaga’s gaze flicked to Mitsuhide, and an almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips. 「Even I find him inscrutable at times,」 he murmured, a hint of dry amusement in his tone. 「He is a deeper well than most perceive.」

Mitsuhide met Nobunaga’s gaze, his own expression unchanging, though a faint tightening around his eyes hinted at an internal flicker of satisfaction or maybe amusement as he translated the words. I guess that’s a compliment coming from Nobunaga. He then turned his attention back to her, amber eyes glinting with playful challenge. “And your thoughts, little mouse,” he prodded, his voice a low, amused murmur, “on our resident physician? Is he equally… unrevealing?”

Ness considered carefully. “Ieyasu,” she continued, his name a thoughtful murmur dropping from her lips, “I think… I could probably capture something of him, yes. He’d never let me, of course. He seems to have very little patience for such things.”

Nobunaga raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 「Oh? And what do you believe you could capture of that inscrutable badger?」 he probed, a challenge in his voice.

Ness looked past him, her eyes distant as she considered Ieyasu, thinking of his gruffness, his relentless demands, but also the unexpected moments of quiet care, the way he insisted on her well-being with a fierce, unyielding determination. “I believe,” she said softly, her voice gaining a quiet conviction, “that he is not unkind. Despite what his face shows.”

Nobunaga studied her, a slow, thoughtful nod. He glanced at Mitsuhide, and there was some kind of shared, unspoken acknowledgement that passed between them. 「Not unkind,」 Nobunaga repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone, a touch of something strange, something almost like… pride. 「A curious way to describe the Tokugawa.」

Ness met his gaze directly, tilting her head. She thought about her own name, the weight of being a Flynn, the automatic assumptions people made because of her family’s reputation. “Well,” she said lightly, a faint, wry smile touching her lips, “I don’t believe in judging a person by their name. Even if I did know the name.”

Nobunaga’s lips curved into a slow, thoughtful smile. 「Not judging a man by his name,」 he murmured, as if testing the concept. 「Even if you knew it.」  His tone was laced with genuine interest. 「A perspective that aligns, perhaps, more than you know, with my own.」 He glanced at Mitsuhide, something knowing in those fierce, carnelian eyes.

Ness felt a new layer of confusion settle over her understanding of this world. Have I misjudged everything? She looked at Mitsuhide, then back at Nobunaga, trying to reconcile the image of the ruthless warlord with this seemingly progressive idea. It didn’t quite fit. There had to be a catch, a nuance she was missing.

Nobunaga rose with effortless grace, the movement commanding the eye. He held the sketchbook out to her, a silent offering, before his gaze lingered for a moment. 「I look forward to our next discussion, Ness,」 he stated, his voice a low, resonant promise. 「We will have ample time for it when I sit for your first attempt to… capture my essence.」 The corner of his mouth twitched, a hint of the predatory amusement that always seemed to lurk beneath his composed exterior. Then, with a subtle nod that encompassed both Ness and Mitsuhide, he turned and strode back towards the entrance to Ieyasu’s quarters. 

Ness stared after him, clutching the sketchbook. First attempt? The casual assumption of her agreement, the matter-of-fact tone, spoke of a man used to getting what he wanted. The thought of being confined to his presence, of being his “living talisman”, sent a faint tremor of unease through her. She wanted, desperately, to maintain her distance.

Mitsuhide rose to accompany Nobunaga, pausing only briefly beside her. Those extraordinary eyes, though still holding a trace of that earlier amusement, softened. “It has been an eventful morning, little mouse,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “There will be no check-up with Ieyasu today.” He offered a faint, reassuring smile. “Perhaps a short nap might restore your spirits.” Then, with a quiet rustle of silk, he followed Nobunaga, melting into the shadows of the interior.

Ness watched them go, the terrace suddenly feeling vast and empty. No check-up today. The absence of Ieyasu’s gruff daily assessments had become more frequent since most of her bandages had come off. It was a small freedom she hadn’t fully acknowledged, one that was almost unsettling, a deviation in a routine she had come to expect.

The sun was higher now, its warmth less gentle, and the lingering weariness from the night before pressed down on her. The adrenaline of the meeting ebbed, the dull ache returning to her ribs. She sighed, a deep tired sound, and closed her eyes. Are they really just trying to help? The question, unwelcome and persistent, echoed in the newfound quiet of the morning.

Chapter Text

A few days after Nobunaga’s visit, Ness sat on the terrace, the ribbon-bound sketchbook open on her lap, attempting to capture the emerging abundance of the Eriobotrya japonica . The garden held a familiar quiet, broken only by the distant sounds of the compound and the city. It was a low hum that underpinned the familiar activities of her solitary days.

She was so engrossed in the delicate work - the trace of the glossy, pointed leaves, the bursting clusters of bright orange plums, tiny, gleaming jewels, almost a crime to render in black and white - that she didn’t hear the soft approach until a shadow fell over her page. She looked up, a flicker of startled surprise, then recognition. Masamune stood there, his expression fixed in a familiar, playful challenge. This time, however, he’d approached from his eyepatched side, a subtle, considerate acknowledgement of their first, traumatic meeting.

「Good morning, lass,」 he said, his voice a low, resonant rumble, a hint of amusement in his tone. 「The sun is shining, and yet, my favourite wilting flower remains confined to her pot.」 He gestured vaguely with a flourish. 「I have come to remedy this injustice. I am breaking you out.」

Ness blinked, her charcoal pencil hovering over the page. Sun. Flower. Pot. Is he just making small talk about the garden? No, something else. The words, even without Mitsuhide’s translation, carried a clear intent, but the specifics were lost in the unfamiliar language. She felt a prickle of unease, not because Masamune seemed threatening - he didn’t - but because the sudden, unsanctioned nature of his appearance, without Mitsuhide’s usual mediating presence, felt more akin to Hideyoshi’s unannounced visits. I need to understand what’s happening, and quickly. But how?

With a sigh, she flipped to a clean page in her sketchbook and bent her head. With quick, sure strokes, she sketched a small, round-faced figure with a single eye and a rakish smile - an adorable, chibi Masamune. Slung over his shoulder was an equally small, wide-eyed chibi Ness, wearing a look of bewildered apprehension. Beneath the drawing, she added a question mark, though she was unsure if he’d understand it.

Masamune crouched down, leaning closer, his single eye fixed on the drawing. A slow smile spread across his face, and a low chuckle escaped him. 「Ah, kitten, you wound me! Kidnap? Is that what you think?」 He shook his head, his grin widening. 「No, no, nothing so… dramatic. Though it does have a certain appeal…」 He paused, then gestured around the terrace. 「This is no place for a spirit such as yours. You need… sunlight. Fresh air. The wind on your face.」

Ness watched him, trying to glean understanding from his tone and gestures. Sunlight? Fresh air? Wind? It still wasn’t entirely clear. She moved her hand across the page. This time, she drew the chibi Masamune boosting the chibi Ness over a high wall, both figures looking determined. Another question mark.

Masamune studied this drawing for a moment, his expression thoughtful. 「Escape?」 he murmured, then let out a soft laugh. 「Well, that is closer to the truth, in a way. An escape from… monotony.」 He looked at her, that single eye holding a spark of mischief. 「But not a permanent one, lass. Not yet.」

He reached out to take the sketchbook from her lap, his movements confident and unhesitating. With a few clumsy strokes, he drew two simple stick figures, a man and a woman, side by side. Then, he added a few scribbled lines and circles around them - clearly meant to be trees. He held it up for her to see, a hopeful expression on his face.

Ness looked at the drawing, a dawning understanding breaking through her confusion. A walk? He just wants to take me for a walk? It seemed almost too simple, too… normal, for this world. But then, another thought struck her. Ieyasu. He won’t be okay with this. She met Masamune’s gaze, her expression serious. She didn’t need to draw this time. She simply said, her voice quiet, “Does Ieyasu know about this?”

Masamune’s smile faltered slightly. He seemed to understand, just the name, and her tone, enough to convey her meaning. He waved a dismissive hand. 「Ieyasu? Ah, he… he is busy. Very busy. Important business. He won’t even notice you’re gone.」 He was trying to sound convincing, but there was a hint of playful defiance in his voice.

Ness wasn’t convinced. She didn’t need to understand the words to grasp the vagueness, to see the spark of mischief in that fierce blue eye. She took the sketchbook back, flipping to a clean page. This time, she drew a chibi Ieyasu, his eyebrows furrowed in a fierce scowl, his arms crossed. Facing him was the chibi Ness, tears streaming down her face in comical floods.

Masamune’s eyes widened as he saw the drawing, and then he threw his head back in booming laughter, the sound echoing across the terrace. 「You capture him perfectly! The scowl, the fierceness…」 He shook his head, still chuckling.

Ness was caught between a frown and her own mischievous smile at the sight of Masamune’s clear amusement. She tilted her head in thought, then reached out, carefully sketching in another figure to the scene. It was a chibi Mitsuhide this time, standing behind Ieyasu’s scowling figure, his head thrown back in laughter.

Masamune’s chuckle turned into another wide grin. 「Yes, our kitsune will be very entertained, lass.」 He paused, his voice softening, as if he was sharing an amusing secret. 「And he won’t be the only one.」

He took the sketchbook back. On the same page as her drawing of the scolding Ieyasu and weeping Ness, he added three more stick figures. One was the stick figure Masamune, now holding a large, round shield. The other was a stick figure Ieyasu, his arms raised in exasperation. His depiction of himself stood between her and Ieyasu, shield held high. Then, as if an afterthought, he added a fourth figure - a stick figure Mitsuhide with a wide, laughing smile.

Ness blinked at the rough drawing, needing a moment to figure it out, then threw her head back and burst into a peel of clear, delighted laughter. “You’re going to be my knight in shining armour, huh?”

Masamune grinned, his single eye gleaming with a mixture of amusement and genuine reassurance. He laid the sketchbook aside and stood up. 「Don’t worry, kitten,」 he said, his voice softer now. 「I’ll protect you from the lad. Now, come. The sun is waiting.」 He held out a hand, a gallant, almost theatrical bow, quirking an eyebrow as he waited for her response.

Ness looked at Masamune’s outstretched hand, her gaze lingering on his confident, expectant expression. The temptation was immense, a siren song against the monotonous rhythm of her days. He offered not just fresh air, but an escape, a break from the careful management of Ieyasu and the intense observations of Mitsuhide. She knew, deep down, that this was unsanctioned, that there would likely be consequences. But the confinement had gnawed at her, and Masamune’s easy smile, the blatant mischief in his eye, was an irresistible invitation to complicity.

Her mind made up, a smile spread across her face. She reached out, her fingers brushing his, and allowed him to pull her lightly to her feet. 「Walk. Yes. Go!」 Ness articulated, her basic Japanese a little rough, but the words bursting forth with a surprising eagerness.

Masamune’s grin widened, his amusement contagious. 「Indeed, kitten. Let us go.」 

Her eyes flicked down to the ribbon-bound sketchbook still lying on the terrace. She gestured to it, then back to him, a silent question. Masamune’s eye followed her gaze, a quick flicker of understanding crossing his face. He bent, retrieving it with a flourish, tucking it under his arm as if it were contraband.

「Now, lass,」 Masamune’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur, forcing her to lean in just a little more, 「just do what I say and we’ll both make it through alive.」 Then he burst into more booming laughter as she frowned at him in incomprehension.

He crouched low, gesturing for her to follow, his movements exaggeratedly stealthy as he made his way across her room to the doorway. Ness fell into step beside him, mimicking his hushed tiptoeing. They moved like cartoon spies, peeking around corners, pressing themselves against walls with dramatic flair, Masamune occasionally holding a hand up to signal “stop” or “all clear” with an elaborate flourish, his good eye darting about with theatrical vigilance. Ness, despite the absurdity, found herself truly immersed in the game, her heart thrumming with the simple fun of it all. They snaked their way through corridors and across courtyards, every rustle of leaves, every distant voice, transformed into a potential detection made ever more likely by her barely suppressed giggles.

Their furtive journey led them not to a grand escape, but to a small, unassuming gate at the very back of the compound, almost swallowed by a dense thicket of bamboo. Masamune unlatched it with a slow, silent movement, pushing it open just wide enough for them to slip through.

And then, they were out.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to discover past that gate, but it was not the surprisingly beautiful, secluded wooded area that she found, nestled directly against the compound’s rear wall. The ever-shifting, rustling canopy of trees let through only dappled sunlight, casting hypnotic patterns on the mossy ground. The air, noticeably cooler and sweeter than within the compound walls, carried the scent of damp earth, rich loam, and unseen wildflowers. Birdsong, vibrant and unrestrained, filled the quiet.

Ness stopped, taking a deep, unhurried breath. Her shoulders, so often tense, relaxed despite the lingering twinge in her ribs. The tight knot in her chest, a constant companion, began to subtly loosen. Her gaze swept over the peaceful scene. It was so simple, so close, yet it felt like a world away from her gilded cage. A genuine, unbidden smile touched her lips.

Masamune watched her closely, a pleased, almost proprietary look in his single eye. Then he gestured to a small clearing nestled beneath a gnarled, ancient tree, its roots coiling like sleeping serpents. 「I think a rest is called for after our daring escape, don’t you?」

Ness moved towards the tree, the rough bark a welcome texture beneath her fingertips. Masamune offered a hand, helping her settle onto a patch of moss beneath its sprawling branches before he lowered himself beside her, his presence a comfortable, undemanding weight. She took a slow, deep breath, letting the clean air fill her lungs, slipping into Ieyasu’s “discipline” with unconscious ease. Her thoughts quieted, replaced by the faint echo of Ieyasu’s voice in her head, and the simple, profound sensation of being present, of just being.

Her gaze wandered, drawn by the intricate details of the woodland. She noted the delicate fronds of a maidenhair fern unfurling from a crevice in the tree’s trunk, the tiny, vibrant red caps of unseen fungi peeking from beneath a carpet of moss, and the delicate bell-shaped flowers of a plant she didn’t recognise, their petals a startling shade of violet. Her eyes followed the ancient, twisting branches of the tree they sat beneath, tracing their path upwards, then outwards. She couldn’t help but notice how some of the thickest limbs extended beyond the thicket, stretching back over the compound wall, a leafy bridge right back to where they’d started.

A soft, wry chuckle escaped her. “Quite the escape, huh?” she murmured, gesturing with a hand to the tree branches, then back towards the compound wall. She then reached for her sketchbook, flipping to a clean page. With a few quick, confident strokes, she sketched a chibi Masamune and a chibi Ness, sitting side-by-side beneath a sprawling tree, both looking content and relaxed, small, satisfied smiles on their cute faces. The simple drawing captured the unexpected peace of the moment.

After a while, Masamune shifted, pulling out a small, exquisitely lacquered box from somewhere within his deceptively simple kimono. 「You’ve earned this, lass. A small treat for a brave spirit.」 He presented the box with a flourish, as if it contained the greatest treasure.

He lifted the lid, and an instant, unrestrained gasp of wonder escaped from Ness’ lips. Inside, nestled on a bed of vibrant green leaves, were a collection of sweet treats so utterly exquisite, they seemed too perfect to eat. Tiny, perfectly shaped mochi in shades of sage, rose, and cream, each one intricately carved with a delicate leaf pattern or a stylised flower. The sheer, painstaking effort Masamune had poured into their presentation was astonishing. It wasn’t just food; it was art.

Ness reached out a tentative finger, stopping before it brushed against the tiny pink mochi shaped like a flower petal. Her anxieties seemed to melt away in the face of such unexpected, lavish beauty. She looked up at Masamune, her smile deepening, genuine pleasure warming her chest. 「Beautiful,」 she murmured, the word surprisingly easy on her tongue as she offered it to him like a gift. 「Thank you, Masamune.」 

Masamune’s wide, rakish grin returned in full force, lighting up his face. 「My pleasure, kitten,」 he purred, his voice rich with satisfaction. He offered her the box, gesturing for her to take her pick. 「No adventure is complete without a proper reward.」

And for a while, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the sweet silence of the woods, they shared the beautiful sweets, each delicate bite a small taste of freedom and unexpected kindness. 

All too soon, their thrilling adventure reached its end, the vibrant energy of the outside world clinging to them as they sneaked their way back into the compound. Ness clutched her ribbon-bound sketchbook tightly, a tangible record of their shared mischief, her heart still light with the unexpected joy of the ‘break-out’, a sensation that was almost alien but so welcome.

As they rounded the final corner leading to the terrace, a figure stood silhouetted against the deepening afternoon light. It was one of Ieyasu’s guards, rigid and formal, who stiffened noticeably at their approach.

A few low, curt words were exchanged between the guard and Masamune, a communication Ness didn’t understand but whose severe tone spoke volumes. Masamune’s easy grin tightened only momentarily, a flicker of mischievous anticipation replacing his usual lightheartedness. 「Well, kitten,」 he murmured, his voice now a low, conspiratorial purr, 「it seems our secret is out. And the lad is, as always, waiting.」

Before Ness could fully process this, the guard bowed stiffly to Masamune, then turned to her, gesturing towards the entrance to her rooms. His movements were polite, carefully exaggerated, but there was an undeniable urgency in his posture.

Stepping onto the familiar terrace, Ness felt the sudden cold dread of being caught. Her gaze swept the area, expecting to see Ieyasu. But he wasn’t there. A new wave of unease washed over her. Where is he?

A moment later, they found him. Not on the terrace, but standing in her bedroom, a stark, rigid figure in the center of the room. His face was a neutral, controlled mask. But his jaw was set with a grim tension. His eyes, when they locked onto her, were wide and sharp, not with the familiar glint of reprimand, but with a raw, unprecedented relief that quickly hardened into fury.

「Ness.」 His voice was a low, controlled growl, devoid of his usual gruffness, replaced by a dangerous tremor that vibrated through the air. He turned his full, searing gaze onto Masamune. 「Masamune. What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?」

Masamune, far from losing his swagger, met Ieyasu’s glare with a wide, unapologetic grin. He even managed a theatrical shrug. 「A little fresh air, Ieyasu, nothing more. She was wilting, you see. Confined to her pot. And that, my friend, is no way to treat a flower.」 He gestured vaguely at her, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of whatever excuse he was giving. Something about the garden? Whatever it was, it was delivered with all of his usual charming impudence.

As Masamune spoke, Ieyasu’s initial worry seemed to transform, incrementally, into a cold, focused rage. 「And what if someone had seen her? Out there?」His voice, though still controlled, was laced with a chilling intensity, each word a sharpened blade. 「Someone who shouldn’t have?」 

「Do you truly believe I would be so… careless?」 Masamune’s wide grin didn’t falter, though his eye held a flicker of something more serious. 「My reputation, after all, depends on my discretion.」

「Your discretion is as subtle as a falling tree,」 Ieyasu growled, the sight of Masamune’s unrepentant grin clearly not amusing him. 「And you chose to fell it with her standing beneath it.」

「She is here, Ieyasu. She is not going anywhere.」 Masamune’s voice took on a sudden, almost serious tone, though there was no sign of it in his expression. 「If we are to keep our little bird, she must learn to fly beyond her cage.」

Ieyasu let out a short, harsh noise that almost sounded like a disbelieving laugh. 「So you will leave the cage door ajar for any hawk to swoop in?」 He shook his head, a barely audible, frustrated sigh leaving his lips. 「She does not need you to encourage her defiance, Masamune. She requires no help on that front.」

Masamune tilted his head slightly, that unapologetic grin softening just a touch, something almost sympathetic in that mischievous blue eye. 「People are difficult, aren’t they, lad?」 

Ieyasu opened his mouth, eyes flashing, and Ness, desperate for a way to communicate before he launched into another tirade, tossed her sketchbook down on a nearby low table with a thud. They both paused, their heads turning towards her and for a moment, she froze. Then she crouched down, her fingers trembling as she quickly flipped to the page she had drawn on their outing - chibi Ness and chibi Masamune sitting happily side-by-side under a tree and a smiley sun. She pointed to it, a silent plea. 「Rest. Breathe. Calm,」 she managed, pointing to the drawing, then to herself, then making a slow, calming gesture with her hand.

Ieyasu’s eyes, still burning with anger and residual worry, darted to the sketchbook on the table. His gaze fell upon the open page. The shift in his expression was subtle, a flicker of something akin to confusion interrupting the storm. It slowed him, if only for a moment. He reached out to slide the sketchbook off the table, his thumb hovering over the peaceful drawing, an almost imperceptible furrow in his brow.

Then, with a sudden, decisive flick, his thumb turned the page.

And there it was. The chibi Ieyasu, scowling fiercely, facing the chibi Ness, weeping comical floods of tears.

Ieyasu’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed dangerously. His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching. 「This… this is what you think?」 he growled, pointing a rigid finger at the adorably furious depiction of himself.

Ness, not understanding his words, but acutely aware of the fury radiating from him, pointed a trembling finger at the scowling face in the drawing. Then, with a flash of defiant anger that momentarily eclipsed her self-preservation, she pointed to Ieyasu’s own face, which was, indeed, set in a fearsome scowl. “You’re literally doing it right now, Ieyasu!” she snapped, the words meaningless to them and yet her meaning was unmistakable.

Masamune let out a low, appreciative chuckle from behind Ieyasu, quickly stifled, though the shaking of his shoulders was all too evident. Ieyasu’s glare intensified, shifting back to the page, sharp green eyes examining the final drawing: the stick-figure Masamune with the shield, standing between the exasperated stick-figure Ieyasu and the stick-figure Ness, laughing stick-figure Mitsuhide looking on. The situation, Ness could not help but note, was not playing out like that in reality.

「And this?」 Ieyasu demanded, his voice thick with a dangerous incredulity, pointing at Masamune’s stick figure and the shield.

Ness shook her head vehemently, pointing back to the drawing. “Oh, come on, Ieyasu! You know that isn’t mine. It looks like a five year old drew it.” She didn’t name Masamune, didn’t rat him out even if Ieyasu didn’t understand her, but he seemed to grasp her meaning.

Ieyasu’s head snapped back to Masamune, his eyes blazing with a renewed understanding of the full extent of the provocation. The raw anger that had simmered with worry for Ness now pivoted entirely to the grinning warlord.

Just as the silence in the room became taut with impending retribution, a new voice, smooth and inquiring, drifted into the room. 「Is everything quite alright in here? I confess, the tension is… palpable.」 Mitsuhide stood in the doorway, his amber eyes sweeping the scene.

Ieyasu didn’t hesitate. 「We had a break-out, Mitsuhide.」 His voice was blunt, cutting.

Mitsuhide’s gaze flicked to Ness, assessing her quickly. A faint, almost imperceptible lift of one eyebrow, as if he was surprised. He offered no translation of Ieyasu’s words. Then, his eyes settled on Masamune, a slow, knowing smile beginning to spread across his lips. 「Ah. So the Dragon caught our wayward princess?」 he mused, a teasing note in his voice.

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened further, a fresh wave of annoyance washing over his face. 「He’s the one who broke her out,」 he snapped, shoving the sketchbook into Mitsuhide’s hands. 「Here. Try not to choke to death on your own laughter.」

Mitsuhide caught the sketchbook with practised ease. His eyes, gleaming with delight, immediately fell to the open page, which Ieyasu’s angry grip had left on the comical image of chibi Ieyasu scowling and Ness weeping torrents, with Mitsuhide himself laughing in the background. Soft, uninhibited laughter escaped him, then a wide, almost beatific smile spread across his handsome face. 「Fascinating. So much conveyed with such… simplicity.」 

「Enlightening as your artistic criticism is, Mitsuhide,」 Ieyasu let out an almost inaudible sigh, exasperation warring with fury in his voice, 「perhaps we could stick to the issue at hand.」

Mitsuhide made no effort to hide his amusement. With a fluid movement of his thumb, he began to flip through the sketchbook, his eyes scanning each drawing with increasing interest. A low hum of intrigue escaped him. 「The issue, Ieyasu,」 he began, his voice carefully measured, 「is that our little mouse here was not entirely a willing participant in this… spontaneous excursion.」 He turned the sketchbook to the first drawings, the bewildered chibi Ness being kidnapped by the rakish chibi Masamune and boosted over the wall. 「Her first instinct, clearly, was confusion. And a desire to understand what was transpiring.」 He then flipped to the next page, the scowling Ieyasu, and paused. His head lifted, meeting Ieyasu’s intense stare. 「This is a rather strong objection, would you not agree? She is clearly trying to grasp if you have given permission.」 

Ieyasu crossed his arms over his chest and made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a ‘hmph’. 「That is not what it looks like to me.」

Mitsuhide’s smile grew softer, thoughtful, then he tilted his head and fixed his gaze on her. And then, having not translated a single thing since his arrival, he murmured softly, “Ness. Tell me about this drawing.”

“Seriously, Mitsuhide? I have no fucking clue what’s going on and you want me to weigh in?” Her voice bristled, with the constant irritation of her limited understanding, with her reliance on him. But he just responded with that unchanging smile. Ness let out a sigh. “Well… I was… beginning to suspect that the proposed outing was… unsanctioned.”

Mitsuhide had no such qualms translating her words for them, giving it a moment to settle before he returned to her. “Unsanctioned, Ness?” It was a subtle prompt to continue, delivered in that smooth, soft voice.

“Neither of you were there and you hadn’t…” she hesitated, gathering her thoughts, “said anything. I figured if you hadn’t given permission, you’d both be… displeased?”

Ieyasu, his irritation barely contained, finally spoke. 「Displeased? You are in floods of tears.」 

Ness blinked at Mitsuhide’s translation, utterly confused for a moment. She raised a hand to her cheek, bemusedly touching her skin. “I’m not actually going to cry.” She looked back at the drawing, then at the two warlords. “It’s not supposed to be realistic. They’re chibis ! They’re exaggerated for… comic effect and understanding.”

Mitsuhide’s eyes gleamed with a familiar amusement. “Understanding?” he prompted, his voice a soft invitation.

“Well,” Ness explained, as if to a particularly slow student, “if I just drew us both looking annoyed, Masamune wouldn’t have known what I meant! That’s just,” she gestured between herself and Ieyasu, “a… regular Tuesday.”

Ieyasu let out a sharp sigh, a sound of profound exasperation, his hand rising to rub his temple. 「If you knew we would be displeased,」 he managed, his voice a low growl, 「you should not have gone.」  

Ness shrugged. “I didn’t know exactly. It was kind of hard to get a straight answer out of Masamune about whether you two had said it was alright. He’s kind of… a force of nature.”

Masamune stepped forward, his earlier swagger fully restored. 「Indeed, lad,」 he chimed in, with an almost exaggerated sigh. 「You should have seen her. All those serious questions, the little eyebrows furrowing, worried a little walk would upset you. Took me a good bit of charming, I tell you. A defiant spirit, indeed.」 He clapped Ieyasu on the shoulder, a move that made the rigid warlord visibly flinch. 「So, you see? My fault entirely.」

Ieyasu let out a low, guttural growl, his gaze boring into Masamune. Mitsuhide casually flipped the page of the sketchbook. He tilted his head, those gleaming amber eyes fixed on her for a moment, as if he was telling her something. But what? Is he asking me to trust him? Or just to… play along?

Mitsuhide turned back to the other two men, and let out a conspicuously loud, thoughtful sound. He drew a long elegant finger over the image of the smiling sun in her final picture. 「This drawing is… the most peaceful of hers we have seen, don’t you think?」 

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed in the face of Mitsuhide’s unreadable smile. But Ness had no idea why he responded that way as, once again, Mitsuhide had stopped providing translation. This is what he was trying to tell me? To trust him… not to know what’s being said?

Mitsuhide left the sketchbook back down on the low table with an elegant, slow motion. He took his time, letting whatever he’d said settle with Ieyasu for a moment. Then he pressed his advantage with a smile. 「Given the visible tranquility the outing afforded our little mouse,」 he mused, gesturing vaguely towards her, 「perhaps a little more freedom for her to pursue such calming activities might be… beneficial?」

Masamune’s single eye gleamed. 「Exactly! A healthy mind needs more than four walls, Ieyasu. We’re not talking about a forced march here, just a little fresh air. The odd supervised outing. To truly recover, one must live .」

Ness watched them, her brow furrowed in concentration, picking up fragments of meaning from their tones and gestures. 

Ieyasu’s face remained impassive, his jaw tight, his gaze upon her. Then his eyes moved to Masamune, another long, assessing look, then finally to Mitsuhide. That gaze, sharp and knowing, lingered on the unreadable smile. 「Conveniently absent this morning, weren’t you, kitsune?」 he murmured, the words laced with a dry, dangerous amusement.

Mitsuhide’s eyes gleamed, completely unperturbed, his smile flickering with the barest hint of feigned innocence. 「I was engaged in a rather delicate operation this morning, Ieyasu. Conducting a vital strategic assessment. One must be patient and unobtrusive when dealing with such sensitive intelligence.」

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened further, a muscle twitching in his temple. He let out a low, almost inaudible growl. 「I need better allies.」

Masamune’s single eye glinted with amusement. 「Better? You have the best, my friend! Who else would orchestrate such a delightful diversion for your wilting charge?」

Ieyasu let out a slow, frustrated sigh, a sound of profound weariness. He rubbed a hand over his face. 「Enough.」 His voice was still gruff, but now laced with a clear thread of irritation. He fixed her with a sharp gaze. 「Ness. Rest. Now.」 His voice was uncompromising, every word clearly enunciated for her benefit.

Then, without another word, he turned his sharp gaze to the other two warlords, his expression calm and controlled. He let out a long, steady breath. 「It appears,」 he stated, his tone heavy with thinly veiled resignation, 「that you two wish to negotiate. 」 He gripped Masamune’s arm, and began to drag him unceremoniously out of the room. 「Both of you. Now. We will discuss this, not engage in more theatrics.」

Mitsuhide, his eyes sparkling with a hint of triumph, offered her a conspiratorial smile. “I apologise for the lack of understanding, Ness.” 

Ness sighed internally, because the way he said that, the way he tilted his head, told her that he had no intention of offering her enlightenment.

Mitsuhide’s voice thrummed with amusement. “All will become clear in time, little mouse.” Then he followed Ieyasu, and the still-protesting Masamune, out of the room, leaving her alone in the deafening quiet of the aftermath.

Chapter Text

A few hours later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, purple shadows across the terrace, Ness sat on the edge of the worn wooden planks, her bare feet pressed into the ground. The air was cooler now, carrying the sweet, pervasive fragrance of the wildly blooming honeysuckle whose vines provided green screens all over the garden. She closed her eyes, focusing on the slow, steady rhythm of her breath. Inhale. Slow. Shallow. Hold. She tried to find that quiet space within herself, the calm before sleep that Ieyasu pushed her for, and that she herself craved with a desperate intensity. But the lingering tension from the afternoon’s confrontation still hummed beneath her skin, a discordant note within the peace she sought.

She was deep in the quiet world of her own breath when a shadow fell over her. Without opening her eyes, she knew it was Ieyasu. He didn’t speak, didn’t intrude on her concentration. She felt the subtle shift in the air as he settled onto the terrace beside her, a silent, solid presence. Ness maintained the slow, gentle pace of her breath, and she sensed, more than heard, a subtle change in Ieyasu’s own breathing, a faint alignment with hers.

Slowly, the tight knot in her chest began to loosen. The frantic edge of her thoughts softened. She wasn’t entirely calm, but the desperate ever-present vigilance had faded, replaced by a state of… relaxed awareness. 

When she opened her eyes, Ieyasu was looking out at the garden, his calm profile etched against the darkening sky. He turned his head then, his sharp green eyes meeting hers for a brief, unreadable moment. His face was, as always, a study in controlled neutrality, his jaw set with a familiar, quiet tension. Then, without a word, he reached out and picked up her sketchbook from its constant place at her side. Ness felt the twitch of her fingers, a moment where she wanted to snatch it back, but it passed, leaving only a flicker of apprehension mingling with curiosity as he leaned down again to select a piece of charcoal from the small wooden box. 

As he flipped through the pages of her sketchbook, his thumb hovered for a moment over the peaceful drawing of her and Masamune under the tree. Then, he turned to a clean page. With slow, deliberate strokes, he began to draw.

Ness leaned closer, her breath catching. His steady hand, the fingers strong and marked with the calluses of a lifetime of combat, moved with the same calm efficiency as always, his eyes focused intently on the page. But she didn’t grasp what he was drawing until he sketched two small, simple figures on one of the rectangles: one clearly himself, the other, a slightly smaller figure, clearly her, both placed upon the terrace on which they now sat. It was a map. A simple rendering of the compound.

Ieyasu drew a faint dotted line around what she now identified as the central living quarters, the familiar boundary that marked the current limits of her isolated world - her room, the terrace, the garden. Ness watched, her breath held, a strange anticipation building in her chest. Then, with neat, clear strokes, Ieyasu created a new dotted line, further outwards, inside the walls but encompassing a whole new set of rooms, buildings, and courtyards in various directions. And finally, a handful of arrows, pointing inwards from the new boundary.

He finished the drawing, a simple, clear diagram, and held it up for her to see. 「Do you have any idea of the trouble this caused?」 he grumbled, his voice low and rough, a clear undercurrent of irritation.

Ness stared at the map, at the dotted lines, and a dawning understanding broke through her. Freedom. The word resonated deep within her, a sudden, bright chord striking through the weeks of confinement. He’s giving me the freedom of the compound. “Wait… really?” There was hesitation in her voice, a moment where a tiny, hopeful bud of possibility unfurled, even as her cautious mind whispered, what’s the catch?

Ieyasu sighed, nodding his head, waving his hand at the crude drawing of ‘her’, then vaguely moving it around the map of the compound. 「A small victory for them. Don’t get used to it.」

A wave of pure, unadulterated delight washed over her, her heart soaring with an unexpected lightness. “Oh my God,” she breathed, the words tumbling out in a rush. She pointed to the front garden on his map. “So… I can go here?” she asked, her voice a little unsteady with excitement.

Ieyasu’s sharp green eyes met hers. He didn’t understand her, but the meaning was clear in her tone, her expression, the gesture towards the map. He held her gaze for a moment, then gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod.

That was all she needed. “The front garden! I can finally see the Arisaema plant! I saw it that first day, remember? Oh, wait, you weren’t… anyway, I’ve never seen one in real life before, they’re incredible,” she was rambling now, the words spilling out in an excited torrent. “Did you know they switch between male and female depending on-”

As she spoke, something shifted in Ieyasu’s expression. The tension in his jaw softened. The sharpness in his eyes gave way to something else entirely - a flicker of warmth, perhaps even a hint of amusement. And then, impossibly, a faint, almost pleased smile touched his lips.

Ness stopped talking abruptly, brought up short by the sight. Ieyasu. Smiling. The weight of his usual sternness seemed to lift, replaced by a fleeting, surprising gentleness in his expression. It was so unexpected, so not him, that it momentarily stole her breath. It gave that noble profile a youthfulness that she hadn’t noticed before beneath all that stern authority.

The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, but the softness lingered in his eyes. 「You know I don’t understand you, right?」 he said, his voice low, a touch of dry amusement in his tone.

Ness blinked, the reality of the language barrier crashing back in. She gave a sheepish shrug, a faint blush rising to her cheeks, then took a breath, gathering her limited Japanese. She looked at the map again, at the dotted line representing her newfound freedom, and then back at Ieyasu. 「Thank you, Ieyasu,」 she murmured softly, the words simple, but infused with a profound sincerity. She gestured to the drawing, then to herself. 「I am… happy.」

Ieyasu’s expression was a complex mix of sternness and something else entirely - perhaps a flicker of surprise, even a grudging satisfaction, at her genuine happiness. Then, the softness vanished, his jaw tightening, his eyes flicking away from her. 「With any luck,」 he grumbled, his voice rougher than usual, 「that means I won’t have to get out of bed tonight.」 He didn’t wait for a response, climbing to his feet and turning to leave without even a good night.

Ness didn’t fully understand his words, but the tone, the abruptness, told her she had made him profoundly uncomfortable, perhaps even irritated him further, yet she couldn’t quite fathom why her sincere gratitude had prompted such a swift retreat. 「Ieyasu,」 she called after him, surprising herself with the clarity of her voice. 「Sorry… for…」 She paused, unable to find the right word, unsure what word she was even looking for. Why am I even apologising? And what for? She wasn’t sorry for the defiance, for chafing against his control, for her gentle adventure with Masamune, or for finding that stolen moment of peace in the woods. But… the raw, visceral relief she’d seen in those sharp jade eyes when she’d stepped back into her room earlier refused to fade, a stark, unspoken truth that transcended their language barrier.

Ieyasu stopped, his back still to her. For a moment, he simply stood, a dark silhouette against the deepening twilight, his head bowed just slightly. 「If that’s true, then don’t make more trouble,」 he said gruffly, before he let out a sigh so soft that she wondered if she’d imagined it. 「I swear I’ve had a headache ever since your arrival.」 And then he was gone, a rigid figure moving with his usual deliberate pace into the shadows of the garden.

Ness sat there, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The map, the unexpected freedom, Ieyasu’s gruff reaction - it all pointed to a single, powerful realisation. Maybe they really are trying to help. And perhaps, just perhaps, they were starting to understand. The true battle of her nights remained, but in this quiet moment, a fragile, burgeoning hope settled over her as she pressed her charcoal to the paper and began to draw.

Hours later, long after Ieyasu had retreated into the depths of the manor, twilight had deepened into night. The terrace was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, casting long, dancing shadows. Ness sat hunched over her sketchbook, lost in the meticulous world of charcoal and paper. Ieyasu’s map, a silent promise of movement and discovery, was her canvas. Her hand filled the square that represented this very garden with an intricate tapestry of tiny, detailed plants. From time to time, she stopped, tracing the dotted lines with a fingertip, her mind already wandering through the unseen corners of the compound, imagining the space, the hidden courtyards, the rhythm of life behind the walls. It was a step closer to her goal.

She didn’t hear Mitsuhide’s approach until he was standing beside her, in that unnerving way he had, a tall, elegant figure silhouetted against the lantern light. He seemed to work all hours, though Ness was no clearer on what exactly it was that he did. Which is exactly how you want it, I assume.

“You’re keeping late hours tonight, Ness,” he murmured, his voice soft, a hint of amusement in his tone. Those eyes, sharp and knowing, swept over her, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “Too excited to sleep?”

Ness felt the unwanted heat rise to her cheeks. That slow smile held a certain smugness. “I take it I have you to thank for this… irritated concession?”

Mitsuhide stepped closer, a knowing amusement glinting in his eyes. “Ah, such things often come about when a little mouse makes friends with… a persuasive dragon.” He let out a low chuckle, so soft it was almost a purr. “Though, I will admit, Masamune’s… enthusiasm often makes my task a delightful simplicity.”

A shy, delighted laugh bubbled up, a spontaneous burst of amusement that surprised even her. It was the sheer audacity of Mitsuhide’s casual admission, the unvarnished truth of his manipulation, that caught her off guard. The laugh was a soft, almost breathless sound that was quickly stifled as she caught herself. What am I doing? This is Mitsuhide. He wants something.

Her laughter died. She studied him, her gaze lingering. In the soft lantern light, he was an elegant, almost ethereal presence. He was not overtly muscular like Masamune or Ieyasu, but she sensed a deceptive strength, the kind that came from precision and controlled power. Those extraordinary eyes, usually dancing with mischief or veiled in enigmatic contemplation, now held a deep, self-satisfied gleam. That smile, a subtle curve she knew he could command at will, performed the role of a man in his prime, entirely too pleased with himself in this moment.

“Why?” Ness asked, her voice direct and clear, cutting through the quiet.

Mitsuhide tilted his head, his smile unwavering. “Why? Why what, precisely?” His tone was a gentle prod, an invitation for her to articulate the unspoken question. He knew what she meant, he always did; he simply wanted to make her say it.

“Why go to the trouble of annoying Ieyasu?” Ness met his gaze, carefully examining that smile that told her nothing. “What is it you’re after?”

Mitsuhide’s smile softened, a subtle shift that revealed a hint of something deeper beneath his usual playful facade. “Rest assured, little mouse,” he murmured, his amber eyes holding hers, “irritating Ieyasu is no trouble at all. It’s quite easy, in fact.” Those eyes took on a gleam of amusement.

“Yes,” Ness let out a soft, amused puff of breath despite herself, “I seem to be able to manage it without even trying.”

His smile grew wider. But, she hadn’t missed the fact that he’d so obviously failed to answer the real question at hand. She took a breath, prepared to press him, but then he tilted his head, his eyes dropping to the open sketchbook on her lap. A gleam of curiosity passed across that gaze.

Her gaze went back to the open page. She almost wanted to hide it. But her pleasure was too real, vibrating too hard in her chest, a genuine joy that drew another soft, delighted laugh from her lips. “He drew me a map,” she murmured, her voice tinged with incredulity, holding it out to him.

Mitsuhide laughed, a low, pleasant sound. “A map, you say? How… practical of him.” He sat down beside her, his movements fluid and graceful, and accepted the sketchbook. He examined Ieyasu’s diagram with a discerning eye. “He has a surprising aptitude for it. And, it would seem, a newfound appreciation for artistic expression.” He turned the sketchbook slightly, admiring the tiny flowers in the center and the single, stark shield knot that denoted her room. 

Ness smiled, tilting her head to look at the intricate pattern of flowers. “I’ll admit an artistic collaboration with Ieyasu was not high on my list of possibilities.”

Then Mitsuhide looked at her intently, his smile softening. “I look forward to seeing the rest of it fill up with your… impressions.”

“Me too,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze, the sincerity in her voice undeniable. She gestured vaguely to the map. “But… I don’t know what anything is. He drew these lines, but… what are these buildings? And these spaces?” She looked at him expectantly. “Could you… tell me? The names, I mean.”

Mitsuhide’s elegant fingers traced the lines Ieyasu had drawn. That smile remained soft, a fleeting, warm gleam passing through his gaze, and then he nodded. 「A language lesson, little mouse? An excellent use of your newfound freedom. Very well. Let us begin.」

They settled into the lesson, Ness’ charcoal pencil moved diligently across the page, carefully adding labels to each space, including her phonetic Japanese. Kuri for kitchen, o-hiroma for the main hall. Mitsuhide’s quiet instruction was precise, his finger tracing lines on the map. He allowed her to puzzle out some of the simpler words, offering a nod or a soft correction, a subtle encouragement in this new kind of lesson.

They worked their way around the central living areas, each newly named space giving Ness a small thrill of recognition and a sense of growing anticipation. Her attention drifted to the U-shaped section where her own rooms were located, set around Ieyasu’s private garden, a quiet space at the center of a constant hum of activity. She was acutely aware, in the quiet of the night, of the hushed sounds from further rooms, of movements, the subtle indication of people close by. But here, it was just her, the unseen movements of staff to and from Ieyasu’s study, and Mitsuhide, down the hall, often an invisible, silent presence.

“And this section,” Mitsuhide murmured, his finger pausing on a cluster of rooms beyond the private garden, inaccessible to her. “These are typically the guest quarters.” His voice was casual, almost dismissive, but his eyes, when they met hers, held a familiar glint of amusement. 「Guest quarters.」

Ness paused, her pencil hovering. Guest quarters? She looked at the drawing, then back at Mitsuhide, a slow, dawning of realisation spreading through her. “But… that’s not where the guests are,” she said slowly, her voice quiet. She pointed to the area he’d indicated, then gestured vaguely to herself and then to him. “You and I… we are not there, are we?”

Mitsuhide’s lips twitched, his amusement growing. He leaned back slightly, allowing her a moment to fully process her observation. His amber eyes, however, never left her face. “Indeed. A very astute observation, Ness.” His smile became a full, knowing grin, devoid of any genuine surprise.

Ness stared at him, a flicker of irritation mixing with a cold rush of understanding. “So… I’m not in guest quarters,” she stated, her voice flat. “I’m in… his personal space.” The implications were stark. She was being kept incredibly close, under constant, direct observation; and she was definitely, despite their protests, not a guest. “No wonder he’s always so annoyed.”

Mitsuhide chuckled softly, a low rich sound. “Our host prefers to keep his… priorities close at hand.” He gestured vaguely to her still-healing ribs, her immobilised arm, a subtle shift in his tone. “Given your condition when you arrived, it was simply the most practical solution for your recovery. And for his… oversight. A matter of convenience, wouldn’t you agree?”

A matter of convenience. It all sounded so reasonable and yet… Ness felt a queasy sense of unease settle in her stomach. If it’s just about my injuries, I've recovered enough to not need so much… oversight. Her gaze lingered on Mitsuhide, the question weighing on the tip of her tongue, but something made her hold back.

Mitsuhide paused, his smile softening, becoming more contemplative. “There is, as I see you’ve deduced, another reason. One which bears mention as you are now to move more freely within the compound.” He paused, looking at her, his gaze a gentle but direct study. “The people of Azuchi rarely encounter… outsiders from distant lands, little mouse. And those, like yourself, are truly a sight to behold.”

Ness stiffened under his knowing gaze, a cold awareness seeping through her. A sight to behold? She looked down, stretching out her hand, the multitude of faint pink lines rippling across her pale skin. She swallowed drily, forcing her tone to be… casual. “How rare is… ‘rarely’?”

There was a long moment of silence where she could feel the weight of Mitsuhide’s gaze upon her. Then he took a soft breath. “You are… unprecedented, Ness. We have never met a woman from beyond the known lands before.” He paused, as if he was choosing his words even more precisely than usual, and she stared at her hand, unable to meet those knowing eyes. “Your manner. Your appearance.” His tone was gentle and calm, avoiding overly dramatic phrasing. “Your beauty is striking, but many will find it… unsettling.”

Unsettling. The word echoed like a whisper, the scars on her fingertips looking back at her. Unconsciously, she lifted a hand, drawing a fingertip cautiously across her own smooth cheek, and gently, carefully adjusting the silk scarf. Unprecedented. So many moments came back to her now, the way all the warlords had looked at her that first day, shocked and almost awestruck. I thought it was the state I was in. The injuries. The shock. But their perplexed gazes, their intent focus, the hushed exchanges, all locked into place like pieces of a puzzle now. 

“Ness.” Mitsuhide’s gentle tone pulled her from her tangled thoughts. She risked a glance, a quick flick of her eyes towards him. The smile on his face was so faint it was hardly an echo, that gleaming gaze intently focused on her. “Ieyasu and I being here with you like this is… an unconventional expression of our duty required by your singular circumstances.”

He paused, allowing the weight of this to settle. Ness looked down at the map, her ‘home’ at the center, marked by the shield knot, and the two blank squares that denoted their spaces. Singular circumstances? So I’m not a guest, or a patient, or a captive, but something else entirely? 

“Ieyasu,” Mitsuhide continued, his voice steady and almost soothing, “has given very strict instructions regarding your presence here. The household staff has been given a firm reminder of their duties to politeness and… discretion. But, as you venture further, it will remain our duty to ensure your movements cause no unforeseen complications.”

Duty. She bristled at the word, the idea of being managed, but the underlying reason, her own, unprecedented alien appearance, felt like an overwhelming, undeniable truth. 

“This is why your explorations will be guided,” Mitsuhide continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Makoto, from Ieyasu’s guard, and Haru, from my own household, will accompany you during the day. They will ensure your safety, and that your presence does not cause… unnecessary alarm to those unaccustomed to such remarkable sights.”

Ness swallowed, the excitement of newfound freedom suddenly tempered by this new layer of strict oversight and overwhelming, blindsiding understanding. “So I’m not just… free to wander,” she murmured, a touch of frustration creeping in. “I’ll be… watched.”

Mitsuhide offered a subtle, almost sympathetic smile. “All important individuals are watched, Ness. It is the nature of their significance.” Those intent, knowing eyes searched her face as if for understanding. “It frustrates you, I know,” he continued softly, “to be… limited. But there are many things outside these walls that could cause you harm.”

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t need to. The unspoken threats hung in the air between them. Ness nodded slowly, her gaze drifting over the map. The dotted lines, once symbols of pure freedom, now also represented the boundaries of her safety. She still felt the pull of the world outside, the desire for complete liberty. But she also felt a flicker of something else - a dawning awareness of the even greater complexities of the situation in which she’d landed.

Mitsuhide’s smile tightened, almost imperceptibly. He took the sketchbook from her lap and gently, but firmly, drew a solid, enclosing circle around the entire area Ieyasu had included in the dotted lines. “This is your newly expanded domain. For now.” He handed the sketchbook back, the newly drawn boundary a clear visual reinforcement of his words. 

Ness pulled the sketchbook against her chest. She understood. The “unforeseen complications” meant exposure. Danger. Her lack of language, her vulnerability, her appearance. But that means… A twist of sickening nausea churned in her stomach, her breath catching in her throat. Oh my God. You need to tell him. You should tell him. But then she thought of the map, the Arisaema , the freedom… and she couldn’t bring herself to do it, the silence stretching onwards.

His gaze studied her, direct and unwavering, and for a terrifying moment, she wondered if he saw it. Her hesitation. But then he offered her a gentle smile. “Patience, Ness. Freedom, like knowledge, is best acquired in measured steps.”

Steps decided by you, of course. The playful lesson had taken a serious turn, but it was a crucial new piece of understanding. And Mitsuhide, in his own enigmatic way, was once again protecting her. “Okay,” she murmured softly. “I understand. Thank you for… the explanation, Mitsuhide.” 

Mitsuhide tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with some unreadable satisfaction, and offered a conspiratorial smile. “My pleasure, little mouse. Now, perhaps you might consider retiring? The hour is late and you have much to explore tomorrow.”

Ness nodded her head in silent acknowledgement. Then he rose, a quiet rustle of silk, and melted into the shadows of the interior, leaving Ness with her expanded map, and a clearer - or perhaps even more complicated - understanding of her place within the compound walls.

Chapter Text

Nearly two weeks had passed since the afternoon with Masamune and the unexpected gift of Ieyasu’s map. Thirty-six days since she’d woken in this world that insisted on being real, even if her mind still sometimes fought against it. But her new freedom had been a lifeline. 

The compound, once a maze of unfamiliar spaces, was slowly, incrementally, becoming more familiar. Ness had thrown herself into exploring the rhythm of life within the walls, to meticulously, almost obsessively, mapping her new world. Ieyasu’s map steadily filled with tiny, intricate illustrations, visual notes of what she observed. Ieyasu and Mitsuhide’s rooms remained blank squares on her map, of course, though Mitsuhide had said, with a surprising lack of ambiguity, that she could come to either of their rooms if she needed them. The thought of needing them, of willingly stepping into their spaces, still felt distant, but the permission was there, a faint dotted line on her mental map.

Her days now followed a different routine. Mitsuhide continued to anchor her morning with a language lesson, a consistent and surprisingly pleasant ritual. It was a slow process, but every new word felt like a tiny key, unlocking another fraction of this perplexing world. After the lesson, she was free to wander within her expanded domain. Her only real constraint was returning for Ieyasu’s check-ups, but those were becoming less frequent. It was simply a waiting game, now, until she could begin to move her arm again.

Mitsuhide would return in the evening for another lesson, which often felt less like a lesson and more like a debrief, his amber eyes watching her with a familiar, unnerving understanding. Sometimes, Ieyasu would join them afterwards, or Mitsuhide would melt away into the shadows, leaving her alone with the gruff doctor. These quiet moments on the terrace were dedicated to breath work and contemplation. But sleep remained a battlefield. Ieyasu still came to her room most nights, and even on the nights where she managed alone, the night terrors persisted. It was only that she was not loud enough to rouse him.

It felt as if her time with Mitsuhide remained largely unchanged, his role consistently that of patient teacher, subtle observer and gentle interrogator. But Ieyasu… with him, she saw far less of the doctor and far more of the man now, his stern authority sometimes softened by a quiet, almost tender care during her most desperate moments.

In between these anchor points of her day, Ness made her way around the compound, armed with her sketchbook, her growing collection of single Japanese words, the gestures of her one working hand, and an array of exaggerated facial expressions that were probably unthinkable coming from a woman they’d been told was a “princess”. Not that Ness cared. She spoke to anyone willing to give their time. She made no distinction between a warlord and a blacksmith, except for her pragmatic acknowledgement that the blacksmith was not controlling her life.

Her fascination wasn’t with the social intricacies of this world, but with the systems. The structure. The mechanics. How did this place work? She was constantly poking at things, observing, asking questions. She would point to a detail, a pulley, a drainage channel, the way a beam was joined, and, with her limited Japanese, she would ask 「Why?」 Mostly, there was an answer. A nod, a gesture, a simple word, an explanation of how it had always been done, or the practical reason for its existence. But sometimes, when she’d pose a question about a particular method or an unusual detail, the person on the receiving end would pause. Their eyes would meet hers with a dawning realisation, and they would look at the thing she had pointed out as if seeing it for the first time. They, too, would wonder.

On the rarest occasions, the ones that were Ness’ favourite moments of a day, the other person would respond with something like, 「I don’t know. What do you think?」 These were the moments that could lead to communication, however difficult. These were the real breakthroughs. She might have a lengthy debate with a cook, using gestures and frantic single words, about why there was a particular hole in a clay oven, or with a blacksmith about the odd way a tool was shaped, or some other utterly mundane, easily overlooked detail. These exchanges, where her genuine curiosity met a similar spark in another, were the most rewarding.

Her greatest joy, however, lay in the gardens. She’d quickly befriended the gardeners, a group of weathered, kind-faced men who were initially bewildered by her arrival amongst them and her genuine fascination with their work. Ness had even broken her own rules to offer them a few pieces of unsolicited advice - small, practical things gleaned from a more modern understanding of soil and plant care. The gardeners, after some hesitant experimentation, had been delighted by the results. Now, silently accepted and sometimes even consulted, she was a welcome presence.

It was late morning, the sun warm on her face, as Ness knelt in a patch of newly turned earth, demonstrating a technique for aerating the soil with a sharpened stick. She wore a simple, dark kimono begged from Mai, her ever-present scarf tied carefully around her head, concealing the ragged regrowth of her hair. A little distance away, seemingly engrossed in pruning a bush, stood Mitsuhide’s man, Haru, his posture relaxed but his eyes subtly scanning the surroundings. Nearby, ostensibly inspecting a stone lantern, was Makoto, Ieyasu’s guard. The compromise had been reached: she had her limited freedom within the compound, but she was never truly alone.

She was deeply absorbed in her work when a sudden hush fell over the garden. Ness, her head still bent over the soil, looked up, sensing a strange and immediate shift in the atmosphere. 

Standing at the edge of the garden, a figure of imposing stature and stern countenance, was an unknown man. There was an air of unyielding authority about him, a power that commanded immediate respect and apprehension from the gardeners. His gaze, sharp and assessing, swept over the scene, lingering for a moment on her. There was no warmth in his eyes, no hint of curiosity, only a cold, calculating appraisal. He took a step into the garden, and the guards subtly shifted, their casual postures tightening with readiness.

Then Haru was there beside her, leaning towards her with his hand extended, keeping a respectful distance. 「Lady Ness,」 he murmured politely, his voice pitched perfectly for her ears only, 「Lord Katsuie is in service to Lord Nobunaga.」 His expression was as open and friendly as always, but there was a subtle warning note to that voice. He works for Nobunaga so… don’t offend him? Is that what you’re telling me?

Katsuie stopped a few paces from her. His presence, in the tranquil garden, felt like the sharp edge of a drawn sword. He didn’t speak immediately, his silence more unnerving than any words. He appeared to be carved from the same unforgiving stone as the castles he no doubt defended.

Ness ignored Haru’s outstretched hand - as she always did - and pushed herself to her feet with slow care. She brushed the dirt from her hand, her heart beginning to pound with a sudden, inexplicable fear. This was different from Ieyasu’s gruff authority, or Mitsuhide’s playful manipulation, or even Nobunaga’s predatory amusement. This was raw, undisguised power, focused entirely on her. She managed to execute a careful bow, but the practised greeting failed to leave her lips.

Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and resonant, but underpinned with a certain coldness. 「So this is the foreign… treasure. The one Lord Nobunaga claims is a talisman.」 He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing, making a soft noise that almost sounded like a sneer. 「Such a rare acquisition.」

Ness flinched. She understood the word “treasure” , the word “talisman” . Did Nobunaga send him? Is that what this is? Some kind of test? She forced herself to hold her ground, to keep her hand from trembling, to resist the urge to run. It was a monumental effort. His eyes, a deceptively soft shade of doe brown, were hardened shards that barely seemed to see her.

Katsuie took another step closer. 「They speak of your… uniqueness,」 he continued, a hint of something that might have been interest, but felt more like possessiveness, in his tone. 「An asset of immeasurable potential. Perhaps capable of forging alliances that could shift the very balance of power.」

Ness fought a desperate battle within herself, a silent scream against the emerging tendrils of panic and the rising tide of utter fury. Katsuie’s words, though only partially understood, combined with the appraising way he looked at her, were a brutal confirmation of her deepest fears. They see me as an object. Just an asset to be… used. Unique. Oh God, how could I have been so naive? It was a horrifying echo of past suffering, and she poured every ounce of her will into keeping her body still, her hand clenched tightly, her face a mask of carefully constructed neutrality. Outwardly, she presented an image of stoic calm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear or anger.

Katsuie, oblivious or indifferent to her internal struggle, began to circle her slowly, his gaze still a chillingly impersonal appraisal, as if examining a prize animal at market. Haru, ever watchful, subtly stiffened, his friendly facade momentarily cracking with a flicker of displeasure. Without a sound, Makoto was suddenly at her other side, his presence a silent, formidable barrier. This unexpected manoeuvre forced Katsuie to take a wider path, preventing him from getting too close.

He stopped again, in front of her, a soft, almost imperceptible sound of skepticism escaping his lips. 「Is this truly the ‘talisman’? A grand claim for such a… petite creature.」 Katsuie tilted his head, those cold eyes narrowing in something approaching confusion. 「Perhaps the value lies in your novelty, then. A bauble for Nobunaga’s collection.」

I have to get away from this. Before I do something I’ll regret. The urge was desperate, almost overwhelming. She could sense the tension in Haru and Makoto’s postures, but also… the hesitation. She understood. In the face of mere words, no matter how unacceptable, they could not intervene. Not with this man. It’s not worth causing a diplomatic incident for a mere asset. The truth of it left a bitter taste.

She was on her own. So, she took a slow, careful breath - which did not calm the subtle trembling at all - basic Japanese words forming on her lips, a polite apology and an attempt to excuse herself, maybe, to cite her health. 「I… I am…」 But the sentence, even in its rudimentary form, wouldn’t fully emerge.

Katsuie allowed only a mere breath of a pause before he dismissed her attempt with a wave of his hand, his expression making it clear that neither her understanding nor her interaction were required. I have no say. But she could still act. 

She took another steadying breath, pushing back the fury that buzzed beneath her skin, and leaned into a gentle, carefully executed bow, just as Mitsuhide had so diligently taught her. 「Please excuse me, but-」

Afterwards, no matter how many times she replayed it in her head, Ness was never sure if she’d seen his hand move. She remembered the bright green of the grass in the blazing afternoon sun as she swayed lower. She felt the gentle weight, the almost imperceptible tug on the end of her scarf. She saw the copper silk float to the ground as if in slow motion. Then, the feeling of the breeze rippled through her hair for the first time since she’d arrived here. 

Ness froze, her body paralysed in a sudden shiver of shock and humiliation. The world seemed to tilt, the vibrant colours of the garden blurring into a sickening swirl. She couldn’t restrain the faint, panicked gasp. The secret was out. That half-inch of vibrant, red regrowth was now visible to the world. It was a public, undeniable revelation of her true otherness. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, what am I going to do? But all she could do was desperately scrabble to regain control as panic and dread threatened to totally unravel her. She raised her head, lifting her eyes towards him, trying to keep her expression calm but not entirely clear if she was really succeeding. 

Katsuie’s gaze was narrowed, his eyes fixed on her hair. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face - surprise, perhaps, or maybe even awe. But those eyes held a calculating reappraisal. 「What strange plumage is this? A rare bird indeed, if this is its natural hue.」

That invasive gaze eyed her with such… detachment. They already think you’re a talisman. A treasure. Now this. Echoes clawed at the edges of her awareness, threatening to drag her down into the abyss - unformed, but the threat of them, the suffocating presence of the room, the light, the helplessness, was suddenly overwhelming. She fought it with every fiber of her being. You have to focus, Ness. You have to stay here. Stay present. 

Then Katsuie raised his hand again, his fingers reaching towards her hair with a slow, deliberate movement. Ness flinched violently, a choked sound catching in her throat, her body rigid with truly debilitating fear. Her carefully constructed facade was crumbling from the inside, held together by sheer, desperate will.

Before he could touch her, Makoto was there, a silent, solid presence. Not a lunge, but a precise, almost imperceptible shift of his body to place himself directly in the line of Katsuie’s reaching hand. He didn’t speak, didn’t issue a challenge, simply blocked the Lord’s path with his shoulder.

At the same time, Haru shifted, offering Katsuie a slight, respectful bow that conceded no ground. 「My Lord,」 he began, his voice respectful but firm, 「we are instructed to ask that the princess not be… touched.」

Katsuie paused, his hand suspended in the air, his eyes flicking between the two guards. The moment stretched, thick with unspoken tension. Then he complied with the guards’ silent demand, slowly lowering his hand as he let out a harsh bark of laughter. 「Why? Will it burn me?」 But his eyes remained fixed on her, on her hair, and hers remained fixed on him, rigid, her chest tight with the effort of drawing breath. 「No wonder they guard this treasure so carefully,」 he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, but loud enough for her to catch the dismissive tone and the word “treasure”. 「Such a prize. Such potential.」

Her lips trembled slightly as she tried again, a desperate attempt to string together the broken Japanese words. But nothing came out. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic, the exposed strands of her hair feeling like a glaring beacon. Her eyes were glued to Katsuie, but she could feel the invisible weight of every gaze in the garden, picture their eyes narrowed, assessing, dissecting her just as he did. They all see it now. How unsettling I really am. The shame was a burning hot flush beneath her skin, threatening to make her shatter.

Then, a new voice. Low, controlled, yet somehow resonating through the chaos in her head. 「Lord Katsuie.」 Ieyasu appeared to her right, his posture rigid, a faint, almost imperceptible tension across his broad shoulders. His expression was calm, but the sharp green eyes fixed on Katsuie blazed with a carefully contained fury. 「If I’d known you wished to enjoy my gardens, I’d have offered a guide. It wouldn’t do for a guest of your stature to… lose their way.」 His voice was polite but there was a dangerous edge to it, like a blade hidden in velvet.

Katsuie’s stern expression remained unyielding. He met Ieyasu’s gaze without flinching, completely devoid of apology or even feigned innocence. 「Ah, Lord Ieyasu,」 he returned, his voice deep and unwavering. 「The unexpected opportunity to appraise… a powerful asset that might further Lord Nobunaga’s aims could not be ignored, given my duty.」 He paused, his eyes flicking towards her for a moment, a hint of something like a smirk touching his lips. 「And a talisman has many potential uses. They say the Tiger of Kai is overly fond of a beautiful woman. Perhaps this rare specimen could even buy his allegiance.」 

Ieyasu’s entire body went rigid for a moment, a statue carved from granite. His voice, when he spoke, was still low and controlled, but it carried a new weight, each word deliberate, slow, commanding attention. 「Lord Katsuie,」 his tone, even in its formal politeness, was more cutting than any outright insult she’d heard from him, 「It would be unwise to pre-empt Lord Nobunaga’s vision. A powerful… asset, as you deem her, shouldn’t be squandered on fleeting alliances.」

Did he just call me an asset? The word, sharp and clear, from Ieyasu’s lips, was like a physical blow. She clenched her hand tight, staring at the neutral, almost grim, set of his expression. He hadn’t once looked at her, not even a fleeting glance, since his arrival. That angry gaze was fixed completely on Katsuie. But who is he really angry at? 

Katsuie let out a short, almost dismissive laugh, a sound like two stones grinding together. 「I see your legendary caution persists, Lord Ieyasu,」 he said, a hint of… mockery in his voice. 「Admirable, of course. But such an asset should be utilised swiftly. Do you not agree, Lord Mitsuhide?」

Ness had been so focused on Ieyasu and Katsuie that she hadn’t even noted his arrival, his silent presence, standing a few feet to her left. Mitsuhide offered Katsuie a polite bow, smooth and diplomatic, his smile carefully measured. 「Lord Katsuie, your strategic acumen is, as ever, impeccable,」 he said, his voice silken, but then a thoughtful, almost regretful sigh emerged. 「Our princess is indeed an… unprecedented treasure. However, her true worth lies in careful cultivation, not immediate deployment.」

Katsuie’s expression remained stern, but Mitsuhide’s smooth words seemed to diffuse some of the immediate tension. Ness stood caught in the middle, the words she could understand washing over her in a tide of fresh fear and humiliation. She understood enough. Enough to know that Mitsuhide, that Ieyasu, the men who had coaxed trust from her with gentle words and endless patience, were referring to her in the same objectifying terms as Katsuie. Logically, a small, desperate part of her understood that they were playing a dangerous game, trying to diffuse a volatile situation. They were getting things under control. But the fear made logic irrelevant. 

「Such a novel beauty needs no cultivation, surely? It could sway any foe.」 Katsuie tilted his head, his gaze flicking towards her again, those eyes gleaming with a cold fascination.

Mitsuhide’s amber eyes flicked towards her, but his expression was totally unreadable. He gave a slow, almost admiring nod, his gaze sweeping over her hair. 「Indeed, her beauty is… remarkable.」 His gaze returned to Katsuie, his tone pleasant, but his eyes gleaming with something cold. 「But our… asset, 」 Mitsuhide continued, a thin smile playing on his lips, 「might prove more of a liability in a foreign court without language or understanding of our ways.」

Her burgeoning trust in them, painstakingly built over weeks, fractured. Are they really just trying to help me? It was a familiar whisper, a question she’d thought she’d laid to rest, but now it held an entirely different, and far more sinister, meaning. Why are they trying to help me? The answer was painfully, overwhelmingly obvious. Because they see me as a tool, just like him. Just like all the others.

She desperately wanted to lash out, to scream that she was a person. Yet, she also understood. They were trying to manage this. And I have to be in control too. She had to live up to their unspoken expectations, to show nothing of the terror and betrayal she was feeling. Her entire being screamed to run, to curl into a ball and disappear, but she forced herself to stand tall, a defiant, trembling stiffness in her posture. She would not give them, or Katsuie, the satisfaction of seeing her break. She would show nothing.

「I’m sure Takeda would have no issue with her… silence.」 Katsuie let out that harsh, cold laugh again. 「At least he could be certain she’s no spy.」

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened further, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly in his temple, his eyes hardening to chips of jade. Beside him, Mitsuhide’s pleasant smile did not falter, but the light in his amber eyes dimmed, leaving them flat and cold as polished stone. Ness, keenly observing every minute shift in their expressions, saw the sudden fury that flared and was immediately suppressed. Her gaze snapped back to Katsuie, and then, with a sickening lurch, the full, brutal implication of his words caught up to her. It doesn’t matter if the beautiful object is mute. Speaking is not what a beautiful object is for. Her mind reeled, a wave of nausea washing over her, even as she forced herself to stand utterly still.

The air remained thick with the tension between the three powerful men. Then Ieyasu’s gaze, sharp as a hawk’s, suddenly cut through it all, fixing on her for the first time since his arrival. His voice, a low, steady growl, carried his absolute authority. 「Ness. To your rooms. Now. 」

The sternness of his tone, the blunt dismissal, usually would have drawn an immediate, defiant protest from her. But not now. The need to escape, to simply get away from the suffocating appraisal and the shattering of her naive misunderstanding, was overwhelming. She didn’t hesitate. Despite the stiffness in her muscles, the renewed throb in her ribs, she executed a graceful, precise bow, just as Mitsuhide had taught her. Her voice, though barely a whisper, somehow was clear and steady. 「Yes, Lord Ieyasu.」

She had never once called him “Lord Ieyasu” before, always preferring his given name, often with a hint of exasperation. The unfamiliar words were a shield, not a surrender. She paused, her head bowed, her eyes fixed on the crumpled square of copper silk in the grass, gleaming with a vividness that was likely a hundred times more muted than her hair. For a moment, she considered picking it up, the protection that Ieyasu had so unknowingly provided her. But then, she straightened, lifting her head to look at him. She caught a subtle flicker of a deeper disquiet crossing Ieyasu’s grim expression.

Ness turned and walked away. The sun, her constant companion and brief liberator, now felt like a spotlight, exposing her. Every step was an act of supreme will, forcing her feet to move, one after another, in the dignified, measured pace Mitsuhide had so painstakingly taught her. Her spine was rigid, her shoulders back, her chin tilted at just the right angle to convey a controlled retreat. But beneath the flawless face, her entire being was rapidly, terrifyingly, unravelling. 

Asset. Treasure. Talisman. The words spoken by Katsuie, then echoed by Ieyasu and Mitsuhide, hammered in her skull. They were hot, searing brands, igniting every latent fear, every buried memory. All the language lessons, the breath work, the care… was it all just to make their ‘asset’ more compliant? More valuable? The cold appraisal in Katsuie’s eyes mirrored the calculating gaze of the man who had looked at her not as a person, but as a body, a resource, a means to an end. You’re just a thing to be used. An asset. Nothing more.

Her own skin felt alien, crawling with the phantom touch of unwanted hands. Her ribs, already a dull ache, now throbbed with a sharp, insistent pain that had nothing to do with her healing injuries and everything to do with the tight, suffocating band of panic constricting her chest. Her breath, usually so amenable to Ieyasu’s discipline, hitched and faltered. Breathe. Just breathe. Count. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. The internal mantra was a desperate, unheard whisper against the rising tide of hysteria.

She only kept half an eye on the world around her, each twist and turn of the walk already known by heart, the movements instinctive. Makoto, a few steps ahead, moved with an almost imperceptible authority, his serious presence seeming to clear the path, giving her an unusual, desperate stretch of private space. Behind her, Haru fell into step, his usual open friendliness carefully subdued, ensuring no one followed too closely. Their combined presence was a stark reminder of her gilded cage. Just hold on, Ness. Please. Hold on. She poured every single ounce of her will into making it look like she could breathe, like there was no frantic, throbbing rhythm pounding inside her skull. 

She reached her room, each measured step an agony of pretense, the familiar space suddenly feeling less like a sanctuary and more like a trap. As she approached the threshold, Haru moved to the door, his usual easy smile replaced by a look of deep concern that briefly tightened his lips. He looked like he wanted to speak, a silent query in his eyes, but no words came. Makoto, standing a few paces back, his serious expression more pronounced than usual, gave her a brief, almost imperceptible bow. Ness, her vision blurring at the edges, acknowledged neither. She simply moved through the threshold in silence, leaving her guards outside.

The moment the door slid shut behind her, the rigid line of her spine finally bowed, and the last vestiges of her control shattered. Her carefully held posture collapsed. She stumbled, not quite falling, but bracing herself against the low table, her knuckles white. She struggled to pull in a ragged, shuddering breath. The quiet hum of the compound, the gentle rustle of leaves, everything faded into a roaring in her ears, a deafening tide of fear. Her gaze swept the table: paper, charcoal, the small, smooth stone she used to whittle her charcoal. Draw something. Focus. Yes. Anchor yourself. But the thoughts scattered like falling petals. Then, without conscious thought, her trembling fingers closed around the handle of the tiny, sharpened knife Mitsuhide had given her to cut paper. The cool, hard metal was a grounding point in the swirling chaos.

She moved, drawn by an instinct she didn’t fully understand, to the wall where the Dara knot had been so meticulously, intricately completed. Endure. The interwoven lines offered only a fleeting, false sense of security. Still, she sank to the floor beneath them, the knife clutched in her hand, her gaze unfocused, distant. A fierce, desperate resolve began to harden amidst the terror. They can’t. They won’t. 

“You will… never… let any of them… touch… you… again. Never.” Her breath came in ragged desperate gasps, a harsh, tearing sound in her own ears. Ieyasu’s calm breathing exercises, the very discipline she relied on, felt like a cruel joke now. It wasn’t working. Nothing was working.

A low, guttural sound, barely human, escaped her lips. Her vision blurred, a hot sting behind her eyes. “You are not… an asset. You… will… not be used. Not again.” A desperate, raw mantra began to form, whimpered at first, then louder, each word ripped from the depths of her soul. “You are… Ness. You… are… a fucking Flynn, and you… do not… surr-”

The words tangled with the echoes, the light, the suffocating memories. The room tilted violently, threatening to topple her. The walls seemed to close in, pressing against her, the air growing thick and hot, stealing her breath. Please. Hold on. Hold on, Ness. The knife felt impossibly heavy in her hand, a burden rather than a defense. Images overwhelmed her senses, dragging her back to a place that was dark and absolute, a tidal wave of panic swallowing her whole, pulling her down, down, down.

And then, all that remained was the roar of the storm inside her head.

Chapter Text

As Ness disappeared, the full weight of Ieyasu’s incandescent rage settled onto Katsuie, his eyes burning within that perfectly stoic face. A muscle twitched in his jaw, his hand subtly flexing at his side, clearly aching to lash out. Ieyasu saw a transgression, an overstep of protocol and authority, a violation of his charge. 

Mitsuhide saw that too, but he also saw the dangerous potential of the exposed secret, the ripple effect it could have.

He intercepted Ieyasu’s furious glare with a swift glance, a silent warning to stand down. His attention then smoothly turned to Shibata Katsuie. The man was a hawk circling a potential prize. He simply needs to be reminded of the lion’s ownership. 

Removing him was a swift, almost clinical exercise. Mitsuhide’s words were a masterpiece of diplomatic, veiled threats: a subtle emphasis on Nobunaga’s “fondness” for his “treasure” - a carefully chosen word that echoed Katsuie’s own framing while subtly inferring that Ness transcended mere asset value - was enough. He didn’t need to be explicit, just a few silken phrases that acknowledged Katsuie’s interest and “strategic mind” while leaving him under no illusions that Nobunaga would be deeply displeased if he discovered this violation. 

The game was understood. Katsuie knew when he was outmanoeuvred, at least for the moment. With a grunt of ill-concealed frustration, he turned to leave, dismissing the scene with a final, contemptuous glance that slid past Ness’ now empty spot.

Once Katsuie was gone, the tension in the garden, though no longer crackling with overt hostility, remained thick with the unspoken consequences of what had just transpired. Mitsuhide turned to Ieyasu, who stood rigid, his fists still clenched. 「Patience, Ieyasu,」 he murmured, the silk returning to his voice. 「There will be other battles.」 

The most crucial of which lies ahead of us right now. His mind raced, recalling Ness’ graceful, precise movements that spoke of discipline and control, even as her body radiated tension and distress. Her polite… acquiescence. Not a deference born of respect, but a retreat into formality, a putting up of walls. It was a sign that her fragile trust had been deeply wounded.

Ieyasu’s grim mask softened only slightly, his eyes narrowing as he bent over to retrieve the crumpled copper silk from the grass. 「Ness.」 His voice was as rigidly controlled as his posture, but it was heavy with a deeper disquiet, one that had lingered in him since she’d called him “Lord Ieyasu”. 

Mitsuhide watched Ieyasu’s movements, noting the gentle, almost reverent care with which he lifted the scarf, back in the hands of its rightful owner, and wrapped it around his neck. A mere scrap of silk concealing a thing of such unexpected beauty and immense peril. He had suspected something, of course, given the intensity of her concealment. But seeing it, the vibrant, unmistakable, fiery beacon against the green of the garden, was different. It was confirmation of her utter uniqueness.

Without another word, without any further discussion, Mitsuhide moved towards Ness’ room. Ieyasu fell into step beside him, his stride purposeful, a shared sense of urgency propelling them. He felt Ieyasu’s eyes on him, a glancing study, and let his smirk grow just a touch wider, a little less expressive, more enigmatic - a quality Ieyasu hated. Then his gaze drifted slowly sideways, and he caught Ieyasu’s eye. Did you know, Ieyasu? Did you know about this? All those nights with her… There was no hint in his expression. But Mitsuhide knew the answer. If Ieyasu had known about this, he would have fought much harder to keep her confined. He’d have been even more cautious. Impossible as that seems.

And in that moment, when they’d stepped into the garden, a shadow had flickered across that controlled mask. So, he didn’t know . Not even all those long nights, the close proximity of their breathwork, had revealed this secret. Even he had been kept at arm’s length from this defining aspect of her uniqueness. Which leads to an even more interesting question. How could he not have known? And in Ieyasu's eyes, if nothing else, he saw a flicker of that same bewildered inquiry. 

Ieyasu stopped abruptly at the start of the corridor, taking a slow, steadying breath. 「Did she understand?」 His tone was the usual gruff veneer, but he was being unusually direct.

Mitsuhide thought of Ness, trembling and defiant, as they performed a dangerous diplomatic dance with Katsuie. Some irrational part of him had hoped that she wouldn’t fully understand. Foolish. This is the little mouse we’re talking about. He’d seen the tension in her posture deepen, her hand clenching tight enough to leave marks Ieyasu would be most displeased with. Did she understand? She heard us echo his words but did she really… understand? 

Mitsuhide shook his head, slowly, his smile fading. 「She understood enough.」 His voice was smooth, but laced with a grim certainty. Their strategic choices had wounded her, and the path to gaining her trust, already a delicate one, had just become immeasurably more difficult.

A new urgency, sharp and unwelcome, sliced through Mitsuhide’s carefully constructed calm. It was the memory of the devastation in Ness’ eyes, a raw wound he had helped inflict, that propelled him now. Ieyasu, his own disquiet a palpable force, followed close behind, his heavy stride echoing in the quiet hallway. They found Haru and Makoto standing guard outside Ness’ door, their postures alert but their faces etched with a shared concern.

Ieyasu stopped before them, his eyes still burning with a suppressed fire, demanding answers. 「What happened?」 he growled, the question a low rumble of barely contained rage. 

Makoto, his naturally serious face a mask of deep responsibility, bowed his head in apology. 「My Lord, I… I failed in my duty. I did not foresee…」 He paused, choosing his words with care, the weight of his failure clearly heavy upon him. His gaze flicked towards the closed door. 「I did not understand the importance of protecting her… her appearance…」

Ieyasu cut him off with a sharp, almost imperceptible gesture, his hand rising just slightly. 「Later.」 Just a single word, delivered in an authoritative tone that promised a reckoning.

Mitsuhide glanced at Ness’ closed door and, for a fraction of a second, he hesitated, a wave of unexpected trepidation washing over him. Stepping into her private space at this moment felt like an intrusion, a further violation of her already fragile boundaries.

But Ieyasu was already opening the door. Then, he stopped, and tension - rigid and sudden - spread through those broad shoulders. Mitsuhide heard the subtle drawing of a steadying breath. Ieyasu paused, his expression unreadable, and then quietly removed his sword, handing it over to Makoto. Mitsuhide blinked, a brief moment of rising amusement, as he followed this up by silently stripping off his outer kimono. Only Ieyasu could believe that removing his weapons would make him less intimidating. 

But the momentary amusement vanished as soon as his gaze drifted towards the open crack in the door. 

Ness was pressed against the furthest wall, huddled beneath the intricate shield knots she had drawn, symbols of a defiance that was now heartbreakingly vulnerable. Her unveiled hair seemed to blaze against the pale backdrop of the paper. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her arm wrapped around herself, her eyes wide and unfocused. 

And in her hand, clutched so tightly that her knuckles were white, was the small, exquisitely sharp blade that he had given her for cutting paper. It wasn’t pointed at them, or at the door. It was held defensively, tucked against her body, a tiny, glittering promise of resistance. Oh, little mouse. The words cut even deeper than I thought. Her entire body was a tightly wound spring, trembling violently. She was coiled, ready to fight, because Ness did not surrender. She was waiting for Katsuie, or someone like him, to come and try to claim her. And she’s not going to go down without a fight.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Ieyasu’s absurd decision to strip himself of his layers no longer seemed so amusing. This was a crisis, and Ieyasu, in his own unconventional way, was preparing for it. Without another thought, Mitsuhide followed his lead and began to shed his own layers, handing them off to Haru. 「Ensure nobody enters this wing, Haru,」 Mitsuhide ordered, his voice low and firm. He didn’t want any ears, even those that wouldn’t understand the language, catching the raw edges of what was to come.

Ieyasu turned to Makoto, his expression still a study in controlled intensity. 「Contain this.」 His gaze was flint-hard, conveying a warning that transcended mere words. 「Understand?」 It was an order that relied on Makoto’s years of service and deep understanding of his lord’s intentions; no further explanation was necessary. 

「Understood, Lord Ieyasu.」 Makoto bowed his head in acknowledgement, already moving to carry out the directive.

And then, with their weapons and outer layers removed, and their orders given, Mitsuhide and Ieyasu finally stepped into the room, the air thick with unspoken tension and the raw vulnerability of the woman huddled against the wall.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide murmured, keeping his voice level, devoid of any sharp edges. He took a single, slow step further into the room, ensuring his posture conveyed no threat. He heard the soft click of the door as Ieyasu drew it closed behind him.

Ness didn’t seem to register their arrival, their presence. Her gaze was unfocused, distant, lost in a landscape of internal terror. Her chest heaved with the desperate effort of pulling in each ragged, unsteady breath. And she was murmuring. Low, guttural sounds, too quiet for him to discern any meaning from.

“Little mouse,” Mitsuhide tried again, keeping his voice a gentle current, “You are safe here.” He took another couple of steps forward, then sank to his knees a few paces from her. He gestured around the room, then to himself and Ieyasu. “No one can harm you.”

Ieyasu sank to his knees beside him, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on Ness. He added quietly, his voice gruff but steady, 「Katsuie is gone. He will not return.」

Mitsuhide kept his voice neutral, but gentle, as he translated Ieyasu’s words. Ness only shuddered, a soft, choked whimper escaping her. Her eyes flickered, barely registering their faces before snapping back to her internal landscape.

And then her words, at first soft and impossible to discern, suddenly coalesced into a raw, desperate mantra. “You are not… an asset. You… will not… be used. Never… again. You… are… Ness. You are… a fucking Flynn… and you… do not… surrender. Not… to him. Not… to any… of them…”

Still fighting… even now. Mitsuhide felt a cold, sharp pang in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation that left him momentarily bewildered. He had used those words, knowing the risk, believing it necessary. Now, he was witnessing the devastating cost of that choice.

The usual ease of translation deserted Mitsuhide. This wasn’t polite diplomacy, or a casual debrief. And despite his promise not to summarise her, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, voice those specific, raw words. It felt like a violation. He turned to Ieyasu, trying to keep his expression composed. 「She… she fears that she is no more than an… asset, to be used without agency,」 he summarised, his voice tight, stripped of its usual silken cadence despite all his best efforts. 「She says… that she will never surrender to such a fate.」

As he spoke, he watched Ieyasu’s face, searching for any reaction. The rigid posture remained, the stoic mask unbroken, but the line of Ieyasu’s jaw seemed to harden imperceptibly, and his eyes, usually sharp and assessing, held a deeper, almost pained intensity. Mitsuhide could practically feel the weight of shared guilt settle between them.

Mitsuhide turned back to her, every movement careful, and non-threatening. He knew that any sudden motion, any attempt to take the weapon, even a raised voice, could shatter what little control Ness still possessed. “Ness,” he said gently, his voice soft, a stark contrast to the harsh reality she was facing internally. “It’s alright. You are safe.” He didn’t expect her to respond, not immediately. She was too deep in the throes of panic, too lost in the brutal memories. But he had to try. He had to offer a lifeline, a connection to the present. “You are not seen that way,” he continued, a hesitant apology for his own words implicit in his tone. “You are not an asset. You are Ness.”

For a moment, a flicker of something - recognition? A desperate plea? - crossed her unfocused gaze. She seemed to see him, just for a second, a brief return from her terrifying past. “I’m not… a thing,” she choked out, the words ragged, ripped from her chest. “I’m not a… oh God, he looked at me just like…” 

She was letting things slip, the carefully constructed walls of her self-containment crumbling. But she couldn’t say the name. The true torment, the source of her deepest wounds, remained locked away, too horrific to fully articulate. But Mitsuhide understood. He saw the connection she was making.

“That’s… how he… like I was a thing,” she continued, her voice a desperate whisper, barely audible. “To be… used. Until… until he started… looking through me. Like I was… nothing.” The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspeakable suffering. “You can… you can do anything you like to nothing,” she whispered, her eyes hollow, a chilling implication of absolute powerlessness. “But I’m… I’m not… I’m not nothing.”

With that, the fragile connection snapped, the brief moment of lucidity gone. She curled in on herself, the knife still clutched in her hand, losing herself completely in the horror that had resurfaced with such terrifying, overwhelming power, as he forced himself to give voice to her words for Ieyasu. 

A new layer of grim understanding settled onto Ieyasu’s face. The rigid lines of his posture seemed to deepen, a silent acknowledgement of the brutal truth being laid bare. Ieyasu’s eyes, which had been fixed on Ness, flicked almost imperceptibly to the small, sharp blade still clutched in her hand. Mitsuhide, too, was acutely aware of the knife, of the danger it represented, and of Ieyasu’s barely contained desire to take it from her. But they were standing on a precipice, and any wrong move could be catastrophic.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide said, his voice firmer now, drawing her attention, “the knife.” He extended a hand slowly, palm up, a silent invitation. “You do not need it.”

Ness’ eyes finally, slowly, drifted to her own hand, as if surprised to find the small, familiar blade clutched there. A flicker of confusion, then a return to desperate, panicked gripping. Is it a grounding point… or a defense? She didn’t release it. Her fear was too overwhelming, the illusion of safety it provided, however small, too vital.

He exchanged another glance with Ieyasu, the unspoken question hanging between them. What do we do now? Ieyasu’s gaze returned to Ness, but Mitsuhide, reading the subtle shift in his posture, understood that his concern now extended beyond the weapon itself. Ness was clearly unmoored, lost in a storm of panic and savage memories. She needed grounding, a connection to the present, and Ieyasu, in his own gruff way, was the one who usually provided it. 

With a slow, deliberate movement, Ieyasu leaned forward, his hand hesitantly reaching out towards Ness. It was an attempt to bridge the terrifying distance that had opened up between them. This was what Ieyasu did when Ness was panicking - he anchored her.

But the movement, however gentle, was too much. Ness’ eyes, wild and unfocused, snapped back to the present, fixing on Ieyasu with a sudden, explosive terror. The fragile connection to reality threatened to shatter completely. “Don’t!” she shrieked, the sound raw and desperate, her body recoiling violently against the wall. “Don’t touch me! You have… no right. I’m not yours! I’m not… I’m not a possession.”

The words, ripped from the depths of her suffering and translated by him, hung in the air, a stark, brutal indictment of their unspoken assumptions. Ieyasu froze, his hand suspended in mid-air, his face still set in a composed mask… but a glint of something like shock crossed fleetingly through those sharp eyes. I see. You’ve never understood, before, what she says when she fights you. He saw the impact of her previously unknown words on him now.

Ieyasu lowered his hand slowly. 「You are not a possession,」 he said quietly, his voice a low, steady rumble, a deliberate counterpoint to her hysteria. 「You are our guest. You are safe in my house. Nobunaga’s power will protect you from those who would exploit you.」 He was trying to soothe her, to re-establish safety and control, by invoking authority, by reminding her of her protected status.

Mitsuhide, his heart heavy with a cold, dark sensation that he could not place, faithfully translated Ieyasu’s words, the carefully neutral tone feeling like a cruel mockery of Ness’ raw vulnerability. He watched her face as he spoke, expecting a flicker of understanding, a moment of calm.

Instead, a hysterical, bitter laugh escaped her lips, a sound that was more a sob than amusement. “You don’t understand!” she cried, the words laced with a profound, heartbreaking despair. “H-how… how could you? It’s because he’s powerful. He can… do whatever he wants, can’t he?”

The question hung in the air, and in that moment, there was no soothing answer that Mitsuhide could give her. Appeals to authority, to protection, to the very structures of power they understood so implicitly, were meaningless against the voice of someone who had experienced the brutal reality of unchecked power firsthand.

“His protection is worthless if… if he’s the one who… wants to exploit me,” Ness continued, her hysteria subsiding, replaced by a bitter, utterly alert, and almost defeated clarity. The storm inside her had not passed, but she had found a precarious foothold in the eye of it. Her gaze, though still haunted, was now fixed on them, sharp and accusatory. “Who could… do anything about it?” she whispered, the words a venomous caress. “You two? You’d wrap me up in a bow if he ordered it.”

A flash of anger, swift and cold, pulsed in his chest. The words were a devastating blow. They spoke to the damaged trust, the reversion to seeing them not as protectors, but as “captors”, complicit in a system that could objectify and use her. The pain in her voice was a wound inflicted not just on them, but on the fragile connection they had built. And the worst part is… is she actually wrong? His eyes went to Ieyasu: his jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed in a furious gleam, a flush creeping up his neck. The uncomfortable truth of their ultimate powerlessness against Nobunaga’s absolute authority was a bitter pill.

As if she’d seen their reactions, Ness’ shoulders slumped, a deep, shuddering breath escaping her. The raw anger she’d sparked in them, though momentary, seemed to exhaust her. “I know you wouldn’t want to,” she conceded, her voice barely audible, the admission wrung from her with painful effort. “But… I also know that it doesn’t… matter what you want.”

Despite the raw emotion, Ness was, in this moment, apparently lucid. It was a precarious calm, the eye of the storm, but it offered a window, a chance to act. This can’t continue. There was no overt communication, no spoken plan. Just a subtle shift in Ieyasu’s posture, a flicker in his eyes that Mitsuhide instantly understood.

Ieyasu moved first, his action swift and decisive, yet carefully controlled. He reached out, not towards the knife, but towards Ness’ hand, firmly taking hold of her trembling fingers, his grip secure. It was an anchoring, a grounding in the physical present.

Mitsuhide reacted quickly, his movements fluid and precise. He reached in, his fingers closing around the small knife. With a gentle, yet firm, pull, he removed the weapon from Ness’ grasp. The glint of metal was gone, the immediate physical danger neutralised.

But the removal of the knife, the last vestige of her perceived defense, had the opposite effect of calming her. Her eyes widened with pure, unadulterated terror. She twisted violently in Ieyasu’s grip, and tore herself free from his grasp. Her arm flailed weakly, her body straining against the wall. She’s going to run. He could practically see the instinct to flee, primal and overwhelming, surging through her.

Mitsuhide, his logical mind screaming at him to maintain distance, to avoid physical contact, felt his body override the command as she made her move. He reached out, his hand closing around her arm, pulling her back, physically stopping her desperate flight.

Ness struggled, however weakly, against his hold. Does she even know it’s me? Or was his touch, the sudden forceful halt to her escape, not his, not Mitsuhide’s, but his? Her words were no longer desperate pleas to be released from this moment, but ripped from a different time, a different terror. “No! Oh, God… please, no. It hurts! Please… please stop, please…” Her words dissolved into a suffocating, unceasing stream of fear. “Please… I won’t tell you. I won’t! I’ll never tell. Never… never…”

Mitsuhide felt her struggle intensify, her body rigid with a terror that was not of him. He saw her eyes, wide and unseeing, fixed on something he couldn’t perceive. He felt her frantic energy, the desperate struggle against confinement. And then, acting on an instinct he couldn’t explain, a desperate hope that breaking the physical connection might break the reliving, Mitsuhide released her arm.

He realised his mistake immediately, even before he saw the unconcealed dismay cross that stoic expression, before he heard the soft, almost inaudible, and totally shocking expletive fall from Ieyasu’s lips. Ieyasu would not have let go.

Ness scurried backwards, flattening herself against the wall, against her shield knots, literally shaking. Her one good arm came up, not to fight them, but to cover her beautiful hair, a primal gesture of protection. He reached out again, tentatively, but Ieyasu’s hand swiftly blocked his path.

「No.」 Ieyasu’s voice was soft, careful not to startle Ness, but the single word was a definitive and authoritative command. The explanation that followed came with a sense of quiet resignation. 「Wait. She won’t respond when she’s like this.」

Wait. Ieyasu’s gruffly delivered command came with the taste of bitter irony. How many times have I told him to be patient over the last month? To wait? And all this time, he was dealing with this, every night. A frantic eddy spun in Mitsuhide’s mind, discarding logical appeals and gentle suggestions as swiftly as they formed. Words were failing. Touch was a weapon. Ieyasu’s gruff patience, born of countless agonising nights, now seemed a terrifyingly slow solution to the immediate, desperate suffering before him. He needed something personal, a shard of her world, a tether back to herself that wasn’t tainted by their presence or the horrors that gripped her.

He ransacked the archive of their shared lessons, the debriefs, the casual conversations, even the hushed fragments of her sleep-talk. He recalled the first night of Ieyasu’s breathing discipline, her delighted giggles as she’d mimicked the way her brother spoke, a casual intimacy in her voice. And then, it surfaced, a faint whisper from that night, a sound too soft to be a threat, too familiar to be dismissed. A nickname. The Duke had called her Nessie.

“Nessie.” The name, a faint echo from that night, hung in the charged air. It was a desperate reach, a gamble. His tone was soft, but it held an undercurrent of urgency, a plea for her to return to them. It was an offering, a tether. “Nessie,” he murmured again, a little firmer this time, the sound cutting through the ragged rhythm of her breaths.

And then, it happened.

Ness’ head snapped up, a wide, unfocused gaze suddenly fixing on him. Does she see me now? Her eyes were swimming with tears, a raw, exposed vulnerability he hadn’t seen directed at him before. “The lines…” Her voice was a desperate, ragged groan. “The lines… he drew the lines… I know. I know… what’s… next. So… much… pain… it hurts… oh God, it hurts. But I won’t… I won’t tell him.”

A cold dread washed over Mitsuhide. He drew the lines? The fragmented words, the raw terror in her eyes - the implication was horrifying. It spoke of a violation that went beyond anything he had imagined. He felt a surge, an unexpected, fierce wave of protectiveness pulse through him.

Suddenly, Ness leaned forward, her trembling hand grasping the front of his kimono. Her grip was surprisingly strong, urgent, as if she had something of immense importance to impart. Her tear-filled eyes, still fixed on him, were wide with a desperate plea. “I’ll never tell,” she whispered, the words a ragged confession, a promise torn from the depths of her pain. Her voice was barely audible, a fragile thread in the thick air. “It’s safe… in my head. He can’t… he can’t have it. I promise… I’ll protect you. I won’t tell. Never.” Her grip tightened on his kimono, her knuckles white. “Even if… even if he breaks me…”

Her words were a primal scream that bypassed his brain and struck him directly in the gut. She was broken, by any pragmatic definition, yet her spirit, her resolve, defied all his understanding of human will. She was a shattered, defiant human being clinging to the last vestiges of self, choosing agony over betrayal.

For a terrifying, endless moment, Mitsuhide’s mind was utterly blank. His usual avenues of logic, of subtle manipulation, of clever deflection, were useless. There was no way to talk her down. No clever phrase. No tactical retreat. He, who always had a plan, a contingency, a perfectly honed response, was left with nothing but the searing reality of her suffering. It was a sensation utterly unknown to him - the complete and unnerving absence of a calculated action.

And then, driven by an instinct he wouldn’t have believed himself capable of, an impulse that defied every logical construct of his personality, he acted. He didn’t think; he simply leaned forward, abandoning the careful distance. He reached out, not gently, but with a desperate urgency, and gathered Ness into his arms.

Her body, a tight coil of terror, stiffened instantly against him. A startled, choked gasp escaped her, a sound of pure, unadulterated panic. He felt the tautness of her muscles, the panicked resistance to the unwanted contact. Her small body was wracked with tremors, her struggle against him a furious, almost animalistic thing. He felt her fragile strength pitted against his own, and a powerful urge to release her, to give her the space she so desperately fought for, swept through him. 

But he hesitated. He remembered the raw, agonising spiral that had followed his earlier, instinctive release. He had seen the complete loss of herself when she was ungrounded, the terrifying regression into a past he was only just beginning to comprehend. Is this what it’s like for Ieyasu? He had observed it from a distance, but now, he was immersed in it, feeling the full force of her terror.

His eyes flicked towards Ieyasu. He saw his grim face, the familiar mask of stoic resolve, but beneath it, Mitsuhide perceived the subtle shift in Ieyasu’s eyes, the slight tightening around his mouth. There was no overt instruction, no spoken word. It was a communication born of shared observation and painful experience. Ieyasu’s gaze, usually so impenetrable, held a flash of knowing, a quiet, firm admonition.

Mitsuhide understood. Ieyasu, the man of rigid discipline and unshakeable control, was silently telling him that the only way through this was to endure, to absorb the force of her panic until her storm broke. He had to hold her, a testament to the present, until she could truly grasp that the man holding her was not him. Not her tormentor. But her protector. Mitsuhide’s jaw tightened, a flash of frustration heating his chest before it was overridden by grim determination. He held on. 

Her surrender, when it came, was absolute and devastating. The fight drained out of Ness’ body as suddenly as it had surged. The desperate struggle ceased. And then, the tears came. Not a gentle weeping, but a torrent of broken sobs, a sound so raw and devastated that it tore through all his efforts to maintain some shred of distance. He had never seen her cry before. Never seen her lose control of her emotions in front of them. She had always worked so hard to maintain her privacy, to keep her inner world hidden.

Mitsuhide held her, rigid for a moment, the surprising weight of her despair heavy against him. Her trembling seemed to transfer to him, a cold, visceral shock. Her frantic breaths hitched against his neck. He felt the dampness of her tears seeping through his kimono. This was it. This was the true, unvarnished reality of her suffering.

He didn’t know how to soothe her. Words felt inadequate, clumsy against the force of her grief. His gaze fell on her hair, the vibrant colour now exposed, a soft half-inch of regrowth near her scalp. An instinct, fierce and primal, overrode his usual caution. He needed to ground her, to keep her anchored, however tenuously, to this present, to them.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his hand. His fingers brushed against her newly grown hair. It was softer than he’d imagined, like silk against his skin. Gently, almost reverently, he stroked it, hoping the simple physical contact, the warmth of his hand, would somehow penetrate the fog. He wasn’t even sure if she was truly in the present, but he had to try.

And then, through the broken sobs, the gasps for air, the murmurs began. Desperate words, ripped from the deepest, darkest place within her. “He’ll never… let me go. He wants… he wants what’s his. I’ll… never… never escape. He’ll… never allow it. He needs… me.” The words didn’t come in a rush, but slowly, painfully, each one a struggle against the tide of her despair. Are these words for me? “He… needs… me… but I can’t… oh, God, I can’t tell him, I won't… please… please… please, let me go. I have… to run.”

Each word was a confirmation of his darkest suspicions, and the chilling finality of “never escape” spoke to a despair so profound it threatened to swallow her whole. How can we fight this? He recognised the pattern now, the insidious nature of these claims, the mental prison more binding than any physical one. He knew he had to translate for Ieyasu, to bridge the gap between her truth and his understanding, but the words felt like ash in his mouth.

His eyes locked with Ieyasu’s, over her head, a silent conversation, a desperate plea for understanding. He couldn’t translate the torrent of her despair. He could only convey the terrifying, unifying thread. 「She speaks of him,」 Mitsuhide managed, his voice hoarse, barely above the sound of Ness’ sobs against his shoulder. 「Her tormentor. She believes he will never release her, that she can never escape his hold. He… he claims her as his own. And she cannot, will not, tell him what he wants.」 His fingers continued to gently stroke her hair, a desperate, silent plea for her to hold on. 「She begs for release… for the chance to run.」

He saw the shift in Ieyasu’s eyes, the familiar mask cracking just enough to reveal the raw, unvarnished weariness beneath. Ieyasu’s jaw, already tight, hardened further, a muscle pulsing almost imperceptibly in his temple. He didn’t speak. For a fleeting moment, Mitsuhide perceived a flicker of something akin to despair in Ieyasu’s unshakeable demeanour, a deep, silent ache for the pain that neither of them could fully assuage.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide whispered, his voice gentle, a desperate counterpoint to the brutal claim she was articulating. “You are safe. We are here. We will never leave you undefended.” But his words felt hollow, inadequate. How can I speak of safety and protection against a claim that’s already violated her so completely?

“There… is no safety.” Her voice was a choked, desperate rasp, barely audible. “There’s only… waiting.” She shuddered, pressing her face closer against him. “He likes… he likes to make me wait… but he always… comes back.”

Her chilling words painted a horrifying picture of a tormentor who relished not just the act, but the psychological torture of anticipation, the complete shattering of hope. He looked at Ieyasu, the untranslated words hanging between them, a silent admission of the profound horror he was witnessing. 

Before he could force them out, Ness stirred against him, pulling closer. Her head shifted, and he felt the delicate brush of her soft lips against his ear. A shockwave went through his nervous system, every sensation suddenly amplified to an unbearable degree. The trembling of her fragile frame was a violent shiver against him, the heat of her choking, ragged breaths scalding his neck. He felt the damp, silken strands of her hair threading through his fingers, a desperate anchor.

Then, through the cacophony of her sobs and gasps, words, each one a terrible, agonising confession, were forced out, whispered with a terrifying conviction, as if revealing a deep, dark secret meant only for him. “I’ll never… tell him. I… swear it. Because…” Her voice held a promise of horror, a clear premonition that he had finally found a secret he had no desire to know. “Because… I… am a… fucking Flynn. And I… choose death… before… surrender.”

The words were not a whisper; they were a blade, plunged directly into his gut. A raw, visceral agony ripped through him, far sharper than any physical wound. His mind reeled with the force of it. And then, he heard it - the choked, desperate inability to take in air, the ragged rasp turning into a silent, terrifying struggle for breath.

Ieyasu was there instantly, his large hand settling firmly in the center of Ness’ back. He leaned in, his lips against her ear, his voice a low, steady rumble perfectly designed to cut through the storm in her head. 「Breathe, Ness. Focus on my voice. Just my voice.」

A desperate sound escaped her, a groan, a gasp for air, a fragile, half-formed plea. “Ieya-” 

Mitsuhide felt the precise moment it happened. The subtle shift in her weight, the sudden limpness of her limbs, the profound quiet that settled over her small frame. He looked down at her tear-stained face, half hidden against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. Unconsciousness had claimed her, a merciful blackout from the overwhelming onslaught.

It was a stark, silent end to the storm, a vacuum of emotion more unsettling than the hysteria itself. He had seen her suffer, heard her pleas, but always from a controlled distance. To feel the exact moment her body simply gave up, to bear the weight of her sudden vulnerability in his arms, was a profoundly different experience.

Ieyasu’s grim gaze softened slightly as he watched Ness’ exhausted collapse. He assessed her breathing, a subtle shift in his jaw the only hint of his relief. 「She’s out,」 Ieyasu stated, his voice low and gruff, a simple statement of fact that cut through Mitsuhide’s bewilderment. He straightened, his gaze sweeping over Mitsuhide, a deep, knowing weariness in his eyes.

Mitsuhide held her close to his chest, an unexpected reluctance to let go washing over him. Why? Why do I feel like this? Why do you make me so irrational, little mouse? She was safe now, at least physically. The immediate danger was past. But the heat of her body, the faint scent of her hair, the fragile peace that now settled upon her face… he found himself strangely unwilling to release her. It felt like abandoning her to her internal darkness. He understood, with a sudden, sharp clarity, that this unconscious surrender was a profound act of trust, a testament to the safety she felt in his embrace. Not conscious trust. How could it be? Not after what she heard. But it’s a… trust of the body, if not yet the mind.

But Ieyasu, ever the pragmatist, was already moving. 「She needs to be in bed,」 he murmured, his voice quiet but firm, taking the lead. He reached out, his hands moving with accustomed ease, to help him shift her. He was asserting his role, gently but unequivocally.

Mitsuhide tightened his embrace for another beat, a fleeting resistance, before he conceded to Ieyasu’s unspoken command. They moved together, a silent, coordinated effort. She remained limp in his arms, a dead weight, her breathing steady as he carried her to the futon. He kneeled slowly, lowering her gently onto the soft bedding, noting the lingering shadows beneath her eyes, the stark contrast of her hair against the white pillow. The sheer, untamed vibrancy of it seemed almost out of place in the quiet room, a silent testament to the drama that had just unfolded.

Ieyasu, moving with the familiarity of someone who’d done this many times before, pulled a light blanket over Ness. His movements were quiet, uncommonly gentle for a man so often defined by his blunt force. Finally, his voice low, he broke the silence. 「We need to talk.」

Mitsuhide nodded, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. I don’t want to leave her. It was a fleeting thought, a flicker of something profoundly unlike him, that he wanted to stay, to simply sit beside her bedside until she stirred. The irrationality of it was startling.

A barely audible, resigned sigh emerged from Ieyasu, and Mitsuhide tilted his head to look up at him. He knew Ieyasu would never offer comfort, not overtly, but he could sense the grim camaraderie, the silent acknowledgement of what Mitsuhide had just endured. It was the sympathy of a veteran warrior seeing a recruit pass through a crucible he himself knew intimately. Then Ieyasu turned, moving towards the door, his form a solid block against the fading light.

「Going somewhere, Ieyasu?」 Mitsuhide’s voice cut through the quiet. His usual diplomatic tone was present, a forced habit, as he tried to pull back from the lingering bewilderment of all that had just happened. 「I thought we were having a ‘talk’. Though, I suppose with you, that might just involve a significant amount of thoughtful silence… and perhaps a strategic exit?」

Ieyasu paused at the threshold, not turning, his broad shoulders squared. 「I need to deal with the witnesses.」 His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, the weariness Mitsuhide had seen earlier now palpable in his stance. Ieyasu glanced back, his eyes lingering on Ness. 「We will have time, Mitsuhide. It will be a long night for her,」 he murmured, his voice gruff, a statement of grim certainty that encompassed far more than just her sleep. Then he stepped into the hallway without another word.

The door slid shut with a soft click, plunging the room into a heavy quiet. It will be a long night. Ieyasu’s words echoed, taking on a new, personal meaning. He had witnessed it, felt it, absorbed it. The silence was not peaceful; it was thick with the chilling knowledge that had just been forced upon him.

He looked down at Ness’ still face, the faint tracks of tears on her cheeks, observing the shallow, uneven rhythm of her breathing. She was impossibly small to him, breathtakingly fragile, but her beauty concealed an unyielding, iron will. Death before surrender. You really mean it, don’t you? It was a declaration of her ultimate agency in the face of utter annihilation; a raw, defiant mantra forged in the fires of brutal torment. And I thought I could… what? Manipulate you? Persuade you? The absolute futility of his efforts became undeniable.

His rational mind, usually so precise and calculating, screamed at him to detach. To analyse. To find actionable intelligence. But what actionable intelligence is there? What do I even do with this? He had learned everything about the cost of the secret, the nature of the torment, the indomitable spirit of the woman who held it. But he had learned nothing that would allow them to act, to find, to stop: nothing but the grim understanding that he could not force the secret from her. 

So nothing has changed. The thought felt like a lie even as it formed, a desperate attempt to cling to the familiar, to the logical, to the manageable. He let out a ragged sigh, dragging a hand wearily across his face. What do we do now? There was no clear answer, no elegant solution, no obvious path forward. It was an unnerving void for a man who always found the leverage, the opening, the weakness. 

Exhaustion, not physical but a profound weariness of the spirit, settled over him. He sat there, not touching her, but close enough to watch the shallow rise and fall of her chest, to listen to the fragile rhythm of her breath in the heavy quiet. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling, seeking the familiar refuge of detached thought, but his mind remained stubbornly, irrevocably tethered to the small, unconscious figure beside him.

Then, a soft murmur escaped her, a faint, almost inaudible sigh in her sleep. Mitsuhide’s head snapped towards her, every nerve on high alert. He searched that peaceful face for any sign of lingering distress, any tremor beneath the closed eyelids, but found none. He noted the scattering of tiny, almost invisible freckles across the delicate bridge of her nose, like dust motes caught in sunlight. Her mouth, often set in a defiant line or curved in a quick, sharp smile, was now soft and slightly parted. Even the tear tracks, still visible on her pale cheeks, seemed to have softened.

And her hair, the great peril… it was like a cascade of maple leaves in peak autumn, up close a complex tangle of red, orange, copper and gold. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He remembered the feel of it against his fingers, softer than silk. His hand twitched, a movement he couldn’t explain, a need he couldn’t articulate. But he stopped himself, squashing the desire to reach for her. What is this? The thought, sharp and unwelcome, sliced through his turmoil. This is… dangerous.

A profound tremor, not of cold but of something far more insidious, rippled through him. Mitsuhide didn’t do attachment. He didn’t do irrationality, or needs that he couldn’t articulate. His world was one of precise calculation, controlled distance, and emotions held firmly in check. But here he sat, bound to this unfathomable woman by threads he couldn’t even name, threads that had tightened, inexorably, during the merciless crucible of the last hour.

His mind screamed for escape, but the heavy quiet of the room pressed in, and the memory of Ieyasu’s departing gaze, that grim, knowing weariness, made it clear that there was no physical escape. He was here, by command, by circumstance, by some terrifying, unspoken understanding between him and Ieyasu.

「Shit.」 The softly muttered expletive was uncharacteristic, rough, ripped from a place of raw exasperation and dawning dread. It will be a long night for her. And for me. Trapped in this moment of impossible intimacy, caught between the terrifying allure of her fragility and the brutal implications of his own irrational urges, Mitsuhide simply sat there.

He was a fox who’d gone digging in a mouse’s burrow. And now, he was stuck.

Chapter Text

The first hint of dawn was a bruised purple smear on the horizon, bleeding slowly into a pale, hesitant grey. Ness’ eyes fluttered open, a dull ache behind them. For a long moment, she simply stared at the familiar ceiling. A heavy, formless dread pressed down on her, a phantom weight that made her chest tight.

Slowly, agonisingly, fragments of the previous afternoon began to surface. Katsuie’s cold, appraising stare. The copper scarf drifting towards the grass. The precise, possessive words - asset, treasure, talisman. The sickening lurch of understanding. The retreat to her room, the frantic scrabbling for the knife, the desperate, whispered litany against the wall.

Beyond that, a blur. A terrifying, painful blur of flashbacks, of the horror of anticipation, of a helplessness so profound that escape seemed impossible. Yet, somewhere in the murky depths of that blur, a phantom sensation lingered. The strong, steady pressure of arms. The surprising warmth of a body. And, most distinctly, the gentle, rhythmic stroke of a hand, impossibly soft, through her hair. It was a memory of absolute, undeniable security, a profound sense of being held when her world had utterly fractured. It was a feeling she desperately wanted to reject, to dismiss as a dream, but its quiet, insistent presence settled deep into her bones.

How much of it was real? The thought was a cold, sharp sliver of fear. She squeezed her eyes shut, a wave of nausea rolling over her. She didn’t want to remember. Remembering meant it had happened.

「... rumours will spread, of course.」 The soft, distant murmur of Mitsuhide’s voice rippled through her muddled thoughts. 「I can only do so much. And keeping her hidden will only fuel them. We must control the narrative before it takes root.」

There was silence, then a soft grunt in response. 「That’s for Nobunaga to decide. I’ll talk to him before you bring her. But…」 Ieyasu’s voice was low, measured, but held just a touch of tension. 「Allowing her to be seen… to be a target… it could lure him out. It’s a risky path.」

The low, familiar voices drifted through the open shoji screen. They were on the terrace. Have they been there all night? What are they talking about? She strained to listen, catching only the rhythm of their speech, the rise and fall of tones she was beginning to recognise. The words themselves were too distant to discern even the most basic meaning.

「Indeed. That might well be the result.」 Mitsuhide’s voice was barely a whisper, but there was a weight to it. 「A calculated risk, perhaps?」  

「A risk we cannot afford if we have gained nothing. Did she truly reveal nothing actionable?」 Ieyasu’s gruff tone was suddenly laced with a hint of demand. 「What exactly did she whisper into your ear, Mitsuhide?」   

There was a long silence, weighed down with something she could not name. 「She said… she swore that she would never submit to what he wants,」 Mitsuhide spoke softly, an unusual sense of hesitation in his voice, stripped of its usual silken veneer. 「That she… chooses death before surrender.」    

The silence that followed was even longer. 「Fragmented, then. Words ripped from a nightmare, not lucid thought.」 Ieyasu’s words were a low, rough sound that seemed to scrape against the stillness. 「We gained nothing by departing from my usual methods. A confirmation of what we already knew. That the man is a monster. Nothing we can use to find him.」

The conversation flowed, their voices entwining in a familiar background hum, but there was a new layer of tension. The rise and fall of their voices, the subtle shifts in rhythm and tone, felt slightly off. A vague sense of unease began to seep through her.

「We gained something almost as important. A glimpse at the foundation upon which she has built her resistance,」 Mitsuhide murmured, his voice quiet but firm. 「The mantra that allowed her not to break.」 He paused, the sounds like waves on a shore she couldn’t quite reach. 「And…」 Mitsuhide continued, a subtle shift in his tone, a hint of something soft, 「we gained her speaking. However involuntary… that is a breakthrough, Ieyasu. It would not have happened with solely your methods.」

Then, a sharper edge entered the conversation. Ieyasu’s voice, usually so controlled, held a new, raw frustration. 「My methods are for her well-being, Mitsuhide,」 he said sharply, a clear dismissal of Mitsuhide’s words. 「And they do not involve prolonging her distress for the sake of… a more complete confession.」 

Ness couldn’t make out the words, but the feeling of his exasperation was palpable, a heavy weight in the air. Taking a shaky breath, she swung her legs over the side of the futon, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. Moving as quietly as possible, a lifetime of learned stealth guiding her bare feet across the tatami, she crept towards the screen door in the ensuing silence.

「Oh?」 Mitsuhide’s voice was smooth, edged with a cool, dangerous challenge. 「Was it not you who claimed that a good commander… exploits a breach?」

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ieyasu, a sudden, almost guttural sound. Then he spoke, his voice low, a deliberate control barely containing the simmering heat beneath, 「That was different. She was… aware.」 Another pause, thicker this time, unspoken words and charged air hanging between them. 「The light, my voice, my touch… all are carefully managed at night. For a reason. She needs to be calmed. Not provoked.」

Ness pressed closer to the screen door, peering out into the pre-dawn gloom of the terrace. They were there, seated on cushions, cups of something steaming between them. Ieyasu’s stoic profile was etched against the paling sky, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Mitsuhide, slightly more animated, was speaking, gesturing with one hand. He stared intently at Ieyasu, a faint smile playing on his lips. 「Managed light,」 he murmured softly, but his voice contained an edge of something sharp. 「And yet, even in carefully managed light, some secrets… remained uncovered.」

Light? Calm? Secret? The words were a jumble, but the emotion behind them was clear. They were talking about her, about something she had concealed from them, something that had put her at risk. Ness’ breath hitched. She felt it then, a familiar sensation. The tension between them, the unspoken accusations in their tones - it all felt tied to her, a consequence of her actions, her presence. It’s my fault. 

Ieyasu’s jaw remained clenched, a muscle twitching faintly. He leaned back slightly on his cushion, his gaze unwavering as he met Mitsuhide’s eyes. There was a hint of weariness in his expression, but it was overlaid with a sharp, controlled fury. 「Secrets your soft words have done so well to reveal, of course,」 Ieyasu’s furious murmur dripped with a cold, hard sarcasm. 「How long have you known that her hair is as orange as a daylily, then?」

Ness remained in the shadows, a tiny, unseen observer, watching closely. A flicker of something unreadable went through Mitsuhide’s amber eyes. His faint smile remained, a fragile mask over an undercurrent of tension that she could almost taste. Then, a couple of Ieyasu’s words came into focus, words she knew. A colour. A plant.

He was looking at Mitsuhide, but his comment was about her hair. He described it as being… like an orange daylily. The words hung in the air, a soft, unexpected comparison. An orange daylily. 

And then, something in Ness, something deep and primal, recoiled. Orange? It was a small thing, a detail, but in that moment, it felt monumental. They were talking about her, about one of her most guarded secrets, and they had the colour wrong. The need to correct the record, to assert the truth of her own experience, surged. 「Red.」 The word was soft, spoken hesitantly in their language, but it cut through the silence before the dawn. 「It’s… red.」

The effect was immediate. Both men froze, their heads snapping towards the sound as she finally revealed her presence. Their eyes, which had been locked in a silent battle of wills, now fixed on her. Ness felt a jolt, a wave of anxiety, as their combined gaze fell upon her. It was a glittering, unyielding wall of amber and jade in the gloom. And then she remembered: vibrant copper silk against the green of the grass. The scarf. I left it behind. Her hair was uncovered. And the scarf that had protected her all this time was hanging around Ieyasu’s neck again for the first time in a month.

She stood, her gaze flicking between them, searching for signs of the tension she had felt. It was still there, a subtle current beneath the surprise, but it was now directed at her, or perhaps, simply held at bay by her unexpected appearance. The shadows of her room provided scant protection against the relentless intensity of those gazes. Taking a shaky breath, she continued, her voice stronger now, “We call it… red. Though mine is a particularly vivid example of the shade, I’ll admit.” She gestured vaguely towards her head, her fingers brushing the very edges of the soft strands.

She finished speaking, and the silence returned, punctuated only by the gentle rustle of the breeze through the garden. Ness stood, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for their response, for some indication of what her interruption, her correction, her very presence, meant in the context of their fraught conversation. She watched their faces, seeing the surprise, the shift in their expressions, and felt a cold knot of fear form in her stomach. Red is bad. How bad? Her mind raced through the worst-case scenarios: demon, witch, ill omen, something to be burned or cast out. She wasn’t afraid of them, not precisely, but of what this revelation meant for her desired invisibility, her desperate need to not be seen.

Ieyasu’s eyes, sharp and assessing, fixed on her. His gaze lingered on her hair for a moment, then returned to her face, unreadable. There was no softening, no reassuring smile. He simply nodded towards the cushions. 「Come. Sit.」 His voice was blunt, a low command that brooked no argument. 

Ness, her legs still shaky, found herself obeying without hesitation. She moved stiffly, feeling every ache in her body, and sank onto the cushion, her gaze fixed on the space between them, avoiding direct eye contact. Her exposed hair felt like a new weight, growing heavier with the coming light of dawn. 

Mitsuhide remained silent, studying her with a quiet solemnity. He reached for the teapot, pouring a fresh cup of tea, the small, rhythmic clink the only sound in the tense silence. He pushed the cup towards her. Ness took a moment, accepting the tea, the warmth seeping into her fingers. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken expectations, pressing down on her.

“I’m…” Ness began, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I’m sorry for making so much trouble for you. I… I never should have let him get close like that, and…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at nothing, tea sloshing perilously close to the rim of her cup. It was an apology for the inconvenience, for her failure to maintain her secrecy, but not for the secret itself.

A strange, almost imperceptible shift occurred in both men. Mitsuhide’s expression hardened, and Ieyasu’s jaw tightened further. Oh, God, they’re really furious about this. 

Mitsuhide let out a barely audible sigh, his voice soft, yet firm, his words carefully chosen. “Ness. You are not accountable for Katsuie’s actions.” His gaze was steady, unwavering, conveying a profound, unspoken reassurance. “The incident in the garden was not your fault. Neither Ieyasu nor I believe that.”

Ieyasu nodded, his voice blunt and direct, 「He took advantage of you. You did not allow anything.」 He paused, then his tone took on a sharper edge. 「However, your continuing secrecy…」 he gestured vaguely at her hair, 「despite your promises, has created complications.」 He leaned forward, and Ness braced herself, recognising the prelude to a lecture. 

「Ieyasu,」 Mitsuhide interrupted smoothly as soon as Ieyasu gave him the opportunity, his low voice carefully cutting across Ieyasu’s burgeoning sternness. He glanced briefly at Ieyasu, as if he was pleading for diplomacy. Then he turned back to her, his expression softening, though his eyes remained serious.

“Ness,” he murmured, his voice calm, his amber eyes meeting hers, “Ieyasu and I, we assumed you were hiding your hair because it was… shorn. We did not understand the true reason.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. His expression shifted, a flicker of hurt, or guilt, crossing his features before it was quickly suppressed. “Why did you go to such lengths to conceal this? Even from us?”

Ness flinched, averting her gaze. The question, though gently posed by Mitsuhide, resonated with the gruff, unspoken query in Ieyasu’s tight jaw and narrowed eyes. Why did you distrust us so much? 

She bowed her head, inhaling the aroma of the gently steaming tea. A sharp, spicy note of ginger; the deep, resinous sweetness of ginseng; the mellow, comforting scent of jujube. This was no simple tea. It was medicine, a complex and masterful composition, a drink designed to mend the body and steel the will for the long day ahead. She swallowed, the fear tightening her throat again. “At first,” she began softly, the words flowing with a hesitant honesty, “I really just was… it was just so…” She thought of the soft, short regrowth, unable to find the words to describe how it was to feel so… not herself. “I know it’s just hair and it will grow back, but… I needed… time to get used to it.” Her lips curved in a brief, bitter smile. “I guess I’m more vain than I thought.”

「At first.」 Ieyasu shifted, a low growl rumbling in his chest, immediately latching on to the key words. But his gruff voice held a soft edge of frustration. 「We are trying to protect you, Ness. And you are making it more difficult.」

The familiar sting of his “protection” hit a nerve, but she understood the logic, even if the delivery was harsh. “I know,” she whispered. “And I was going to tell you, after Mitsuhide… explained.” She paused, considering her words, then let out a long sigh. “But you were already angry about me… having more freedom. And I didn’t want to give you… another reason to keep me hidden. To lock me up for good.” She took a deep steadying breath. “So… so I didn’t say anything.”

Neither man spoke, but she felt a renewed tension, an unspoken aggravation, and the crushing certainty that she had, once again, failed to grasp or convey something important. Oh my God, I’m going to be lucky to see a garden again, aren’t I?

Then Mitsuhide’s voice, gentle but firm, filled the stunned silence. “Ness. No one here would ever do that. Our efforts to keep you hidden were never intended to punish you or to make you a prisoner. And Ieyasu… he is not cruel, little mouse. You know this. He is cautious. We are cautious… with you.” His words were unwavering, a fleeting echo of urgency within them. “We wish to keep you safe, not to confine you without end.”

A soft, low sound that might have been a sigh came from Ieyasu’s direction. 「Does she truly believe that we are capable…」 His voice, low and tight, thrummed with undisguised frustration, and something else, something rawer, more hurt.

「Ieyasu.」 There was a subtle shift in Mitsuhide’s tone that conveyed an almost… delicate sense of reassurance. 「Her perspective is shaped by what she has known. Our kindness, to her, is merely a preliminary step to exploitation, a setup for her eventual utility.」 His words were a soft, quick murmur towards Ieyasu, carefully calibrated to exclude her possible understanding. 「She is acting on a deeply ingrained expectation that she will be used and, if found troublesome, discarded. And… our own words have only reinforced it.」

Ness leaned forward slightly, setting the tea cup down before her trembling fingers could spill the lot, the familiar sting of them pushing this boundary like an itch under her skin. They’re talking about me. But she didn’t scratch it. She simply let out a sigh. “It’s not like you can give me real freedom, now that…” she lifted her hand, fingers rippling through her hair for a moment, “now that you know how unsettling I really am.”

The pathetic, whispered words hung in the air. Ieyasu’s stoic mask remained firmly in place, but there was a flicker in his eyes, a brief moment of confusion that vanished just as quickly. There was a subtle tightening around Mitsuhide’s mouth, his expression caught in a moment of sudden stillness. He looked at her intently, a touch of dismay in that amber gaze.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide began, his voice soft, “I did not mean…” He faltered, a strange awkwardness in his usually fluid delivery. He cleared his throat, trying again, “When I said that people would find you…” His gaze drifted, and then he just stopped, the word “unsettling” unspoken but screaming in the silence between them.

「Mitsuhide,」 Ieyasu interjected, his eyes, sharp and assessing, fixed on Mitsuhide. 「Why would she think something like this?」 There was a subtle tightening to his jaw, his voice low and demanding.

Mitsuhide met Ieyasu’s gaze, a flicker of something like weariness in his amber eyes. 「When I first explained the implications of her appearance,」 he began, his voice softer now, a subtle apology woven into his tone, 「I… I used the word ‘unsettling’.」 He paused, allowing his words to settle. 「I meant it as a warning of others’ potential reactions, Ieyasu. But she heard it as… a judgement. A confirmation that she is… something to be hidden.」

Ieyasu listened, his stoic expression giving way to a complex mix of anger and dawning comprehension. 「‘Unsettling’,」 Ieyasu repeated, the word a rough sound in his mouth. He shook his head, a rare display of frustration. 「Mitsuhide, your… your way with words is sometimes a hindrance. To speak of her in that way, even with your intended nuance… it is…」 

The words flowed between them, too swift and complex for Ness to follow without Mitsuhide’s aid. She listened, watched their expressions, straining to decipher the nuances. She felt the weight of Ieyasu’s frustration, noted the subtle shift in Mitsuhide’s expression, but the rapid-fire exchange eluded her.

Ieyasu let out an uncharacteristic, frustrated sigh, then turned back to her. 「Ness,」 his tone shifted, becoming more matter-of-fact, his expression settling once more into its usual stoicism. 「You are not unsettling in a… personal sense.」 He gestured vaguely at her, her hair, as Mitsuhide carefully resumed his translation. 「But your existence is… a challenge to expectations. To the established order. That is the reality. You are a threat to their world view.」 He paused, letting his explanation sink in, then his gaze softened just slightly. 「But to us…」 Ieyasu continued, his voice low and gruff, 「To us, you are…」 He hesitated, a hint of discomfort crossing his expression, his eyes flicking towards Mitsuhide.

Mitsuhide took a soft, barely audible breath. “You are Ness,” he murmured, his voice imbued with a rare, genuine tenderness. His gaze lingered on her hair, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “And your hair, it is… quite a striking colour. It has a remarkable vibrancy,” he murmured, a hint of genuine admiration in his voice. He met her eyes, a playful glint in his own. “It is… beautiful, little mouse.”

A strange, fragile warmth bloomed in Ness’ chest, a sensation so unexpected that it was almost painful. Mitsuhide’s soft words settled over her like a delicate, unfamiliar weight. Beautiful. His gaze, lingering on her hair with a slow, genuine smile, held a subtle intimacy that both drew her in and made her instinctively recoil. It was a dangerous kindness. Her throat tightened, the unspoken words of gratitude and disbelief lodging there, heavy and unmanageable. She could only meet his eyes for a fleeting second before her gaze dropped. The air was thick with the weight of his sincerity and her profound, complicated inability to accept it fully.

Ieyasu’s face remained a mask, but the subtle clench of his jaw was unmistakable. He let out a slow, controlled breath. 「Beautiful or not,」 Ieyasu interjected, his gruff voice cutting through the delicate emotional tension Mitsuhide had created, 「it will need to remain concealed. For your safety.」 His eyes lingered on her hair, a fleeting, unreadable contemplation. Then he gently lifted the scarf from his neck, and placed it on the terrace between them, a silent directive. 「Until we discuss how best to proceed.」

The command, blunt and undeniably pragmatic, hung in the air, pulling her back from the dizzying edge of Mitsuhide’s tenderness. The words were a cold splash of water, extinguishing the fragile warmth that had just bloomed. She had chosen concealment, and part of her still screamed for the invisibility it offered. Yet, hearing Ieyasu’s quiet, firm order to hide what Mitsuhide had just called beautiful felt like a brutal retraction. A deep, aching hurt settled in her chest.

“Ness,” Mitsuhide’s soft voice cut through her disappointment with gentleness, “Ieyasu is right. Katsuie’s reaction… it is a clear indication of the potential danger this presents.” He paused, choosing his words so carefully as always. “While you are safe with us, and you are free to be yourself, in the privacy of your room, or with us… outside of that, you must be careful.”

Ness listened silently, the weight of his words settling upon her. The brief moment of relief and acceptance was overshadowed by the renewed understanding of her precarious situation. Her red hair was not just a personal secret; it was a potential political liability, a magnet for unwanted attention and dangerous interpretations.

“You can be yourself with us,” Mitsuhide reiterated, his voice a quiet reassurance, exchanging a brief glance with Ieyasu. “But for now… the scarf must stay.”

Ness nodded slowly, a sense of weary acceptance settling over her. She looked from Mitsuhide to Ieyasu, then to the scarf, her hand reaching out to hover over it. “Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, the words raw and fragile, “I… I understand.” Her fingers settled on the copper silk, still imbued with the lingering warmth of Ieyasu’s body, a faint, intimate sensation that somehow made the wound feel rawer.

Ieyasu’s eyes, fixed on her, held a flicker of something unreadable - an almost imperceptible softening around the edges, quickly suppressed. A muscle in his jaw gave a single twitch before settling back into its accustomed rigidity. He offered no verbal affirmation, no reassuring nod, simply a slow, deliberate breath that seemed to carry the weight of a complex, private relief. 「Good.」 His voice was quiet, a low rumble of satisfaction that brooked no argument. 「Then you will allow Mitsuhide to secure it before he takes you to the castle today.」

“Castle?” Ness whispered, the single word sharp with a sudden, disorientating confusion. Her gaze drifted between them, searching their faces for answers. Why? A punishment for my appearance, a consequence of my outburst? Her chest tightened, a familiar chill spreading through her veins. Am I being moved? Is this because of what happened with Katsuie? But they said… The brief, fragile truce felt as if it were already crumbling. Her heart began to pound an uneasy rhythm against her ribs.

Ieyasu’s expression remained stoic, but his voice, when he spoke, was carefully measured, almost gentle, devoid of its usual bluntness. 「Lord Nobunaga must be informed, Ness. We cannot conceal such a… significant detail from him.」

Ness flinched, her eyes widening, a small desperate sound escaping her lips. Her gaze darted between them. “I don’t…” She choked out the words, her voice breaking, unable to stop her fragile composure from crumbling. “I don’t think that’s a… good idea.” She thought of how Nobunaga had spoken about her, with his predatory amusement, with the kind of words that could lead to a fate far worse than mere imprisonment. Talisman.

“If he hears it from whispered gossip, he will question our judgement. He will question your honesty. And that would be a far more dangerous position for you.” Mitsuhide leaned in slightly, his voice dropping, no hint of a smile on his composed expression. “For your own protection, Lord Nobunaga must hear of this from us.”

“But…” Ness hesitated. It was all totally logical, yet, the way Nobunaga had called her his “lucky charm” lingered, a cold thread of fear. “You heard what he said. He called me his… talisman. An agent of fate. And this,” she waved a hand at her hair, a bitter, self-deprecating smile rising to her lips, “isn’t going to disabuse him of that superstitious notion, is it?”

“Nobunaga is not a superstitious man, Ness.” Mitsuhide paused, his eyes meeting hers, a glint of utmost sincerity within that amber gaze. “He is a conqueror, a visionary, driven by logic and ambition. He understands that you are… a woman. One unlike any we have ever encountered, but still just a woman. Not a mythical portent.”

Ness blinked, and then let out a dry, weary laugh. “He doesn’t need to believe his own mythic narrative, does he? That’s probably an advantage, in fact.”

Ieyasu’s eyes, usually so impassive, flickered with a raw, momentary urgency as they fixed on her. 「Ness.」 His voice was low, unusually resonant with a firm, unshakeable conviction that cut through the lingering fear. 「Lord Nobunaga owes you his life. And he pays his debts.」 He paused, letting the weight of those words sink in, his gaze unwavering. 「You are his saviour. That is a profound act. Such a thing is… honoured.」 He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing, demanding her understanding. 「He will not exploit you. He will not… discard you. That is not his way.」

The weight of Ieyasu’s words settled over her. It wasn’t a gentle soothing, but a blunt, unyielding declaration, a promise carved from the very bedrock of his nature. She searched his eyes, seeing the unshakeable conviction, the genuine, unassailable belief in Nobunaga’s code of honour. And in this brutal world, perhaps that was a more reliable guarantee than any soft persuasion. 

A slow, weary sigh escaped her lips, the panic receding, replaced by a grudging acceptance. “Alright.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. “But I will tell him. Not you. Not Mitsuhide.” She looked at Ieyasu, a fierce resolve straightening her spine. “It’s my secret. I will choose the words. I will be the one to reveal it.”

Ieyasu’s face remained a mask, but a faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his jawline. A corner of his mouth twitched, the barest hint of a wry, hidden amusement mingled with… exasperation. 「As if I would want the trouble of explaining it myself.」 His voice was a low, gruff murmur, his gaze unwavering. 「That would be… far too much hassle.」

A low, amused chuckle, soft and almost musical, escaped Mitsuhide’s lips as he finished the translation. The sound seemed to ripple through the strained air. He turned his gaze towards Ieyasu, a teasing glint in his eyes that dared the other man to respond. 「Indeed, Ieyasu,」 he murmured, his voice laced with mock sincerity, 「who would wish for such a… burden? Especially when our little mouse here so bravely volunteers for the task.」

Mitsuhide paused, his smile widening slightly, then addressed her directly, “Rest assured, Ness. You will have the singular honour of astonishing Lord Nobunaga with your own unique… revelation. We wouldn’t dream of depriving you of that moment.”

Ness didn’t laugh. The thought of amusement, light and carefree, felt impossibly distant, a luxury she couldn’t afford. But the sheer, unwavering conviction in their gazes, the unspoken agreement between them that this was a strategic necessity, not an act of submission to superstition, offered a sliver of reassurance. It spoke to a deep-seated confidence in their lord’s pragmatic nature, a belief that he would view her unusual hair as a curiosity, perhaps an advantage, but not a mythic portent to be feared or revered.

There was a subtle shift in Mitsuhide’s posture, a brief glance at the paling sky, and then he turned to Ieyasu again. 「It is time for you to leave, is it not?」 he murmured, his voice quiet, a gentle reminder.

Her gaze darted to Ieyasu, that weary, stoic expression, the rigid lines of his posture. Leave? The word, clear and sharp, pierced through her fragile composure. Does that mean you won’t be there? When I talk to Nobunaga? A cold, hollow feeling spread through her chest, a sense of being cast adrift. Without Ieyasu’s presence, the prospect of facing Nobunaga felt suddenly more terrifying.

Ieyasu, returning her gaze with intent focus, let out a low, almost imperceptible grunt. 「I will meet you there,」 he said gruffly, his voice a low rumble, answering her unasked question. 「Later.」

Mitsuhide’s smile, the gentle and reassuring one he seemed to reserve just for her, returned as he turned back towards her. “Please prepare yourself, Ness,” he said softly. “I will return for you shortly.”

The silence that followed their departure was different. It wasn’t heavy with unspoken tension or the weight of difficult truths. It was… empty. And in that emptiness, a new realisation, slow and dawning, settled over Ness. Azuchi Castle. That meant… she was going outside. Leaving Ieyasu’s compound, the place that had been her cage and her sanctuary, her prison and her protection. For the first time in a month, she would step beyond these walls with their permission, into the world, into the unknown. And with that possibility, a strange, dizzying mix of fear and fragile, hesitant hope bloomed in her chest.

Chapter Text

The bruised purple of pre-dawn had softened to a pale, hopeful rose, the first shy rays of sunlight just beginning to kiss the peaks of Azuchi Castle in the distance. The air in Ness’ room felt charged with a quiet anticipation. Mai had finished dressing her, the soft, pale grey-blue silk of the kimono a delicate caress against her skin. The subtle shimmer of the sparse bamboo pattern, a whisper of silver thread in the low light, gave her a fleeting sense of unfamiliar elegance. It was a garment fit for a princess, or perhaps, a cynical internal voice whispered, a very valuable asset being presented to a powerful lord.

She had the copper silk scarf on, a familiar weight against her neck, carefully concealing her hair from Mai’s well-meaning but potentially superstitious eyes. Her still-immobile arm, bound comfortably in its sling, was a faint reminder of her vulnerability, but otherwise, she felt physically sound. She was ready. Waiting. The fear was a tight knot in her stomach, but beneath it, a fierce, almost defiant anticipation at the thought of finally leaving the compound.

A soft knock drew her attention to the door, and it slid open with a gentle whoosh. Mitsuhide stood framed in the doorway, his usual composed demeanour in place, his formal robes accentuating his lean aristocratic frame. He was, as always, the embodiment of refined power, and his presence immediately shifted the emotional temperature of the room. But… there was something different about him. It was a familiar sensation, the same subtle flicker she sometimes got from Ieyasu. The crucible of her suffering had left its mark. What did you learn? More fragments to use against me? His amber eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered there before he offered a small, almost imperceptible nod. 

He stepped fully into the room, his movements fluid and unhurried, gently placing a bundle of blue cloth down on a low table. Then he walked towards her, his gaze lingering on her scarf. “Ness,” he murmured, his voice soft, just a hint of that subtle intimacy in his tone. “That scarf… it is a little askew.”

Ness sighed, her good hand lifting to brush against the smooth silk. “I’d like to see you tying a head scarf with one hand and your teeth,” she murmured, a hint of irritated humour and exasperation in her voice. “You might not be so quick to criticise.”

Mitsuhide’s smile widened, a teasing flicker, a gleam of amusement lighting up those amber eyes. “Perhaps you underestimate my ingenuity, little mouse.”

Before she could answer or try to adjust the scarf herself, Mitsuhide’s hands were there. They were precise, careful, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he reached for her head. His thumbs brushed against the edge of the scarf near her temples, subtly adjusting the drape. It was a light touch, almost imperceptible, yet she felt the coolness of his fingers, the careful pressure. A phantom sensation ghosted across her scalp, bypassing conscious thought, a memory held in her very nerves.

Ness’ breath hitched. That stroke. The pressure. The impossible softness. A profound, unsettling realisation bloomed in her chest. This precise, delicate gentleness, the almost ethereal softness she’d felt through the haze of her terror, belonged to Mitsuhide. He had been the one to stroke her hair, to offer that singular, undeniable security in her most fractured moment. The memory of cool fingers through her hair, the rhythmic calming movement, was undeniably his. She glanced up from under her eyelashes, searching his composed face, but found only the familiar, unreadable mask, a faint smile playing on his lips as he gently adjusted the silk.

Mitsuhide, apparently oblivious to the silent revelation unfolding within her, meticulously retied the knot at the nape of her neck, ensuring the scarf sat perfectly. Then he stepped back, his head tilted slightly, assessing his work. His gaze swept over her again, taking in the full effect of the kimono, his lips curving in that subtle, knowing way. “The colour suits you, little mouse,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the pale grey-blue. “Precisely as I thought. And the bamboo… it reflects your strength. It is a fitting choice for this particular occasion.”

Ness felt the heat rise to her cheeks. A compliment from Mitsuhide was always a complicated thing. His words were genuine, she could sense it, but the subtle intimacy in his tone, the way his gaze seemed to penetrate beyond the surface, always left her conflicted. It wasn’t a straightforward compliment. It was layered, teasing, and yet, deeply sincere. It made her feel both seen and exposed.

Before she could form any response, Mitsuhide turned away, retrieving the bundle of cloth from the table. It was a haori, the shade a deep, muted steel blue, the fabric rich but without a trace of overt ornamentation - a quiet, undeniable whisper of luxury, not a shout. Ness had never seen it before.

“And this,” Mitsuhide stated, his voice a little drier now, “is from Ieyasu.” He held it out, the fabric draping over his forearm.

Ness looked at the haori, then at her bandaged arm. “A coat?” she murmured, her brow furrowing slightly. She looked out towards the garden, where the early morning light now bathed the vibrant blooms and lush greenery, bursting with obvious life. “But it’s July. I think?”

Mitsuhide’s lips twitched, a spark of amusement lighting his amber eyes. He stepped closer, his movements smooth, and held the haori open. “Even in summer, the early mornings can carry a surprising chill. It is for your comfort and… discretion.” He paused, a playful glint in his eye. “Though, if you wish to argue its necessity, I’m certain Ieyasu would be most interested to hear your reasoning when we return.” He offered a small, almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say, it’s his rule, not mine.

Ness sighed, but she offered no more protest. She turned around, and he expertly guided the haori over her shoulders. The fabric was indeed rich and substantial, its weight settling comfortably over her. As it draped, she felt the brush of the inner lining against her skin - an exceptionally fine, soft white silk. It was a subtle, unexpected comfort, a layer of luxurious softness hidden from the world. 

A profound moment of conflicting emotions washed over her. Ieyasu wasn’t here, yet his protection, his quiet consideration, was tangible, gently wrapped around her by Mitsuhide. It was a strange, powerful convergence, a testament to the complex, entwined web of their protection, even in separation.

“Come, little mouse,” he murmured, his voice soft, a gentle counterpoint to the storm of emotions swirling within her. “It is time.”

He turned, leading the way out of the room and into the hushed morning corridor. The air was cooler here, carrying the scent of polished wood and something faintly floral. As they turned a corner, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of an alcove.

Ness’ eyes widened, a hint of unexpected relief washing over her. “Hideyoshi!” she exclaimed, a wide, genuine smile breaking across her face as she waved excitedly. “What are you doing here?”

Mitsuhide offered a brief, almost imperceptible smirk in Hideyoshi’s direction before turning his attention back to her. “Hideyoshi,” he said softly, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes, “is just the man to regale you with tales of Azuchi’s splendor, Ness. Consider him… your personal guide to the glories of Lord Nobunaga’s domain.”

Hideyoshi, ever the picture of cheerful optimism, beamed back at her. In that moment, with that warm smile spreading across his face, he looked like the ideal big brother, and Ness felt a surge of affection for him. He had calmed down considerably since their initial awkward encounters, and his uncomplicated kindness felt like a balm to her raw nerves. He really did want to be her big brother, and right now, in the absence of her own, that felt like the most comforting thing in the world.

As they stepped out of the compound and into the town, the early morning air was crisp and clean. The narrow, curving street of Azuchi’s lower town was already stirring, despite the hesitant dawn. The scent of damp earth and simmering rice porridge mingled with the sharper tang of woodsmoke. Ness, walking between Mitsuhide’s quiet, watchful presence and Hideyoshi’s buoyant stride, felt the subtle shift in the air. The few early risers - a woman sweeping her shopfront, a man leading a placid ox-cart, a cluster of vendors beginning to arrange their wares at the edge of what promised to be a bustling market - paused. Their gazes, though quickly lowered, held a potent current of curiosity. 

But one person, a handsome, brown-haired man with glasses in a green kimono, was looking directly at her. His face was almost expressionless, but his gaze was different from the others, more focused. He didn’t drop his eyes. A jolt of something akin to recognition went through her, as if she’d seen him before, in some place that lingered just at the edges of her memory. Stop being ridiculous, Ness. She dragged her gaze away. She was imagining things, her anxiety getting the best of her. It was a trick of the light or a strange resemblance to somebody she’d met in her own life. How could you possibly know anyone here?

They moved on, the subtle glances her way continuing. Ness felt it like a prickle on her skin, the pervasive sense of being observed. Even with her hair tucked meticulously beneath Ieyasu’s silk scarf and her fine haori blending her into the landscape of their fashion, her very otherness vibrated in the air. They know. They know I don’t belong. Her blue eyes felt exposed, like beacons. Her skin, pale and almost translucent in the dim light, seemed to glow unnaturally against the darker tones of the Japanese around her.

The warmth of Hideyoshi’s smile was a gentle anchor, but it couldn’t fully dissipate the chilling awareness of those watchful eyes. She had poked and prodded every corner of Ieyasu’s compound, a veritable whirlwind of questions for anyone who cared to answer her. Every new mechanism, every unfamiliar custom, every strange plant had been met with a barrage of inquiries. Yet here, in Azuchi’s vibrant lower town, a dozen questions coiled unspoken on her tongue. The narrow street, the bustling market, the very way the vendors arranged their wares - all of it screamed for dissection, for analysis, for understanding. But the words wouldn’t form. The suffocating sense of being an anomaly in plain sight stole her usual intellectual bravado.

Mitsuhide, walking calmly beside her, glanced at her, a faint, almost imperceptible frown touching his brow. “You’re unusually quiet, Ness,” he murmured, his voice pitched low, a touch of gentle teasing in his tone. “Has the splendor of Azuchi already rendered you speechless?”

Hideyoshi, perhaps sensing her unease or picking up on Mitsuhide’s prompting, stepped closer. 「Don’t be shy, Ness!」 he said, his voice hearty and warm. 「Anything you want to know about Azuchi, about Lord Nobunaga’s domain, just ask.」 He grinned, a picture of open enthusiasm.

Slowly, reluctantly, Ness’ eyes began to scan the street, searching for a point of engagement, something to latch onto to break the suffocating silence. Her gaze swept past the vibrant market stalls, the stoic ox, the shopfronts, until it landed on a small group of figures standing slightly apart from the increasing morning bustle. They wore unfamiliar robes, and one held a distinctive symbol aloft - a crucifix. “Are those… Jesuits?” she asked, the words a quiet release from her pent-up silence, directed more to herself than her companions.

Hideyoshi exchanged a brief, unreadable glance with Mitsuhide at the provided translation. 「The Nanban priests?」 Hideyoshi clarified, his tone open and helpful. 「Yes, there are some in Azuchi. Lord Nobunaga permits them.」

A fresh wave of curiosity washed over Ness, momentarily overriding her discomfort. “Do you have religious freedom here?” she pressed, her eyes now fixed on Hideyoshi.

Hideyoshi’s cheerful demeanour didn’t waver as he considered the question for a moment. 「Lord Nobunaga is… welcoming of new ideas,」 he finally offered, as if he was choosing his words carefully. 「He allows many different beliefs in his domain. He even built a temple for the Nanban priests here in Azuchi. As long as they are not causing trouble,」 he added with a grin, 「Lord Nobunaga is happy to let them practice their faith.」

Ness’ mind reeled slightly at his words. The concept of a Catholic church here in Azuchi, a physical space dedicated to the worship she had grown up with, felt profoundly disorientating and yet, a tiny spark of something akin to hope flickered within her. It was a connection to a world she had believed irrevocably lost, a reminder that echoes of her past could still be found, even here. 

Her eyes roved past the missionaries, taking in more details of the city - the subtle variations in the stonework, the drainage channels that wound through the streets, the precise angles of the roofs. “Why are the roofs shaped like that?” she asked, pointing to a particularly striking example. “Is it for rain? Or something else?”

Hideyoshi, walking slightly ahead with a spring in his step, turned back with a wide smile. 「You notice everything, Ness. Lord Nobunaga designed them so! They are strong, yes, for the rain and the wind, but they also show the power and the beauty of Azuchi. Everything here is a testament to our lord’s greatness.」 He launched into a detailed explanation of the architectural choices, his voice filled with pride and admiration for Nobunaga. 

Mitsuhide, walking beside her, that faint smile playing on his lips, carefully translated, his bemusement growing with each question and enthusiastic answer. He rendered Hideyoshi’s effusive pronouncements into precise, almost clinically detached phrases, a stark contrast to the booming pride in Hideyoshi’s own voice. His words were accurate, yet stripped of all the zealous admiration that infused Hideyoshi’s every syllable.

Now that she’d broken the awkward silence, the flood of inquiries came with every unusual detail she noticed, her eyes darting about, no longer focused on the curious looks they were receiving. “Are these roads always so… winding? Do they have a purpose, or did the town just grow this way?” she wondered, gesturing at the irregular curves. She pointed to a series of stone retaining walls along the road. “These stones, how are they held together so precisely without mortar? Is it a special technique?” She spotted a squat, unfamiliar stone statue beside a path. “And what are those figures, those small statues, at the side of the road? Do they have a meaning?” 

Hideyoshi answered each one with the same cheerful eagerness, weaving in anecdotes about Nobunaga’s genius and the glorious future of Azuchi. He was clearly delighted by her interest, seeing it as another opportunity to sing the praises of his lord.

As the imposing walls of Azuchi Castle loomed larger, Ness’ questions began to shift, becoming more focused on what awaited her inside. “What’s it like in there?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of interest and apprehension. “Is it very different from the town?”

Hideyoshi’s smile seemed to widen even further. 「The castle is the heart of Azuchi, the center of Lord Nobunaga’s power. It is grand, it is magnificent, it is like nothing you have ever seen.」 He painted a vivid picture of the castle’s splendor, his words designed to inspire awe and excitement.

They arrived at the foot of the castle, its towering stone walls and intricate watchtowers rising majestically into the azure sky. Ness craned her neck, taking in the sheer scale of the structure, so different from anything she had ever seen. Her gaze, drawn by an architectural anomaly, landed on a prominent section of the main tower. “Is that… an octagon?” she murmured, her brow furrowing in curiosity.

Mitsuhide, following her gaze, tilted his head slightly. “An octagon?” he repeated, his tone indicating unfamiliarity with the term. 

“An eight-sided shape,” Ness clarified, her mind already racing, beginning to connect the dots to her own cultural symbolism. “It’s often associated with balance, harmony… or infinity, in some traditions. Does it have a particular meaning here? Is it a symbol of something for Nobunaga?”

Hideyoshi beamed at the question. 「You are sharp, Ness!」 He chuckled, clearly delighted by her observation. 「Lord Nobunaga himself designed the main floor of the tenshu to be so. It signifies his vision, his aspiration to unify all the lands, to bring all eight directions under his rule.」 As he spoke, his enthusiasm bubbling over, he reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, a gesture of warm, unreserved camaraderie.

Her muscles tightened, a silent, internal recoil from the unexpected touch, a terrifying breach of her carefully constructed defenses. Every nerve ending screamed a warning. Don’t touch me. She didn’t pull away. She was too focused on maintaining the illusion of composure. Don’t let him see. He’s being kind. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t his fault her body was broken, her instincts warped into a grotesque parody of self-preservation.

Mitsuhide’s subtle smile hardened almost imperceptibly. He took a swift, quiet step closer, his voice low but firm, 「Hideyoshi, we mustn’t delay Lord Nobunaga.」 Without waiting for a reply, he smoothly placed his hand on the small of her back, a light, guiding pressure that urged her forward. As they began to move, he leaned in slightly, his voice a gentle murmur. “Beyond the splendor Hideyoshi speaks of, Ness… the interiors of the tenshu boast paintings unlike any you have seen. Vibrant studies of the natural world, rendered with a realism that might surprise you.”

His soft words resonated, cutting through the lingering tension of Hideyoshi’s touch. Her curiosity had been piqued by the town, but this was an appeal to something deeper, to the precise subjects that truly captivated her, the artistic principles that stirred her own hand. She looked up at him, and for a fleeting second, the unreadable mask softened. It was a silent communication, a quiet assertion of his presence and understanding. 

A new, unexpected wave of emotion pulsed through her. Not fear, not anger, but a profound sense of… being seen. And a fierce, sudden rush of complicated gratitude. He’d seen her retreat like a snail into its shell, but he hadn’t judged her internal recoil. He had simply acted. 

The ascent to the tenshu was another opportunity for her to unleash her boundless curiosity. Each step up the grand staircase, each turn through the meticulously crafted corridors, elicited a fresh wave of questions about the architecture, the art, the history, the purpose of every detail she observed. Hideyoshi, still beaming with pride, answered them all with endless enthusiasm, while Mitsuhide followed, translating the rapid-fire exchange.

Finally, they reached the uppermost floor. As they approached the heavy, lacquered doors, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Ieyasu stood outside, his posture rigid, arms folded across his chest, his usual stoic expression a familiar, unyielding mask. A wave of relief, potent and undeniable, washed over her. The sheer force of it surprised her, a visceral sense of safety simply at the sight of his broad, unwavering presence. 

Those sharp green eyes flicked from Hideyoshi to Mitsuhide, then finally settled on Ness. 「Took you long enough,」 he grumbled, his voice a low, irritated rumble. 「Did you stop to admire every single roof tile on the way?」

Ness frowned, a prickle of irritation running through her at his usual gruffness. “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen a roof from the outside,” she replied, her tone laced with just a hint of sharp sarcasm, her gaze steady. “Frankly, I’d forgotten what they looked like.”

A ripple of amused disbelief went through Hideyoshi, who muffled a chuckle behind his hand at Mitsuhide’s translation. Mitsuhide tilted his head, his shoulders vibrating with silent laughter, a faint, teasing smile playing on his lips. His amber eyes danced with unconcealed amusement.

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his temple. He didn’t dignify Mitsuhide’s translation with a verbal response, though the effort of his silence was palpable. Instead, his gaze, still unreadable but with that new layer of exasperated recognition, returned to Ness. 「We are already behind schedule,」 he stated, his voice flat, a clear dismissal of the preceding exchange. 「Lord Nobunaga does not appreciate tardiness.」

「I am most relieved to have made it in time, then. I was so worried I would be late for Lord Nobunaga’s summons.」 The words came from the newest arrival, a figure hurrying towards them, his robes slightly askew and a faint air of distraction about him. It was Mitsunari, his usual earnest expression on his face, though tinged with a hint of worry. He offered a quick bow to the men, his eyes lighting up as they fell upon her.

Hideyoshi chuckled, a fond, exasperated shake of his head. 「Mitsunari, how many times must I remind you?」 The words were a gentle rebuke but his smile was patient. 「Just try to remember the time when Lord Nobunaga calls, yes?」

「I do apologise, Lord Hideyoshi,」 Mitsunari bowed, an almost embarrassed expression on that angelic face. 「I became… quite absorbed in a document regarding the new tax regulations, and I fear I lost track of time.」

Ieyasu let out a low grunt, his expression darkening further at Mitsunari’s explanation. 「Lost track of time? Sounds familiar,」 he grumbled, his gaze flicking pointedly towards Ness. 「You and Ness seem to have a shared talent for getting so absorbed in things you forget the rest of the world exists. Though,」 he added, a grudging note in his voice, 「at least her distractions usually involve things that are actually here, not buried in some dusty scroll.」

Mitsunari, far from being offended by the comparison, beamed. 「A shared talent with Lady Ness? How fascinating! And you are always so observant of such details, Lord Ieyasu. It is a true honour to be recognised by such a brilliant strategist.」

Ieyasu’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his temple as he visibly struggled to maintain his composure in the face of Mitsunari’s effusive and slightly nonsensical praise. Mitsuhide’s shoulders shook with laughter, his amber eyes dancing with amusement at the familiar dynamic unfolding before them.

Ieyasu let out a low, irritated sound but he said nothing. He simply shifted his position slightly, a subtle movement that brought him more directly to her right side. Mitsuhide, his amusement now carefully restrained, moved to her left, completing their unspoken formation. Then, without a word, Ieyasu’s hand settled lightly between her shoulder blades. It was a touch she had become accustomed to, not overtly comforting, but safe in its predictability and lack of aggression. Ness didn’t flinch. Her body didn’t scream a warning. His touch was a silent command, a physical manifestation of his control and protection, gently urging her forward into the heart of Azuchi castle.

Mitsuhide’s hand, a quiet movement, slid open the lacquered doors, revealing the hushed grandeur of Nobunaga’s inner sanctum. Ness took a deep, steadying breath. She felt a tremor of fear, of anxiety, but also a fierce, unyielding resolve. She was about to lay bare a secret that could change everything, a vibrant splash of the impossible in this ancient world. Her heart hammered, a drumbeat of anticipation, and a touch of morbid amusement chilled her chest. Alright, Nobunaga. Let’s see if your vision of unification includes a redhead.

Chapter Text

The tenshu’s uppermost chamber, a study in stark power and opulent simplicity, stretched before them. Heavy wooden pillars, polished to a deep sheen, soared towards a ceiling with intricate, vibrant designs that glowed in the filtered light. The air was cool, carrying a faint scent of cypress and aged paper. Plush tatami mats covered the floor, leading to a raised dais at the far end, where a single, richly adorned screen stood. Nobunaga was already there behind a low desk, his imposing figure a stark presence in the vast room, commanding the spacious chamber. 

And with him was Masamune, a spark of genuine pleasure in his visible eye. 「Ness! Finally!」 his smile widened as he leaned forward. 「I’ve been stuck here with these two, lass. It’s a crime I didn’t get to accompany you on your grand tour.」

Hideyoshi chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 「You truly missed out, Masamune. It was never a quiet moment, and all the better for it.」

「And what did our guest think of our illustrious town, Hideyoshi?」  Nobunaga’s voice, rich and resonant, carried through the almost-empty space. 

Hideyoshi’s smile widened, his soft brown eyes glinting with something like mischief. 「Imagine if Mitsuhide asked all the questions in his head, my lord. But… nicely.」

Mitsuhide’s quiet translations murmured next to her ear, his low, careful voice keeping her anchored within the conversation, and he didn’t even falter when the others were talking about him. What would it take to make you lose your cool?

Laughter rippled through the chamber and gently eased the atmosphere. Even Ieyasu offered a twitch that might have been a smile. It was a moment reminiscent of that first jarring day in this world, when Ness had braced herself for interrogation and instead found herself in a surprisingly relaxed setting, the men joking amongst themselves, food being brought. Even now, after witnessing their duality, their capacity for both stern, calculating warlord behaviour and moments of genuine warmth, it was still unsettling. Any time they dropped their guard, any time they weren’t the formidable figures she expected, it felt like a crack in the reality she’d come to understand. But the eased atmosphere was a welcome balm before the inevitable tension of facing Nobunaga.

Nobunaga allowed the ensuing silence to hang in the air. Then, his voice, low and even, resonated with the unmistakable weight of authority, 「Come speak with me, Ness.」

Ness swallowed hard, anxiety tightening its grip. She moved stiffly towards a cushion, settling onto it with a quiet rustle of fabric. She heard the soft shift as Ieyasu took his accustomed place to her right, a grounding presence despite her frayed nerves. Mitsuhide settled to her left, and she risked a quick glance. He gave her a fleeting, almost imperceptible nod, barely more than a softening of his gaze, a silent reassurance.

Nobunaga continued, his gaze unwavering, betraying no hint of his thoughts. 「I understand there was an… unfortunate incident yesterday.」 He paused, his eyes flicking briefly towards Ieyasu, then back to Ness. 「Let me be clear. You are under my protection.」 He leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting, becoming more resolute. 「Any rumours, any suggestions regarding your… purpose… that do not come directly from me, are to be ignored. You are not a commodity to be bartered, nor a spectacle for public consumption. You are a guest in my domain, and your safety, and your honour, are paramount. Is that understood?」

Ness’ head bowed, his words sinking in, a wave of profound relief washing over her that was almost dizzying. It was exactly what Ieyasu and Mitsuhide had said, but to hear it from him, from the man who held ultimate power, made it undeniably real. And with that immense relief came a sharp, unwelcome stab of guilt. They were right. They had tried to reassure her, and she hadn’t fully believed them. The soft profanity escaped on a breath, “Shit.”

Mitsuhide, ever attuned, leaned closer. “Is everything alright, little mouse?” he murmured, his voice gentle, but that gaze as sharp as always.

Ness shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “How am I supposed to tell him now, when he’s being so…” She gestured vaguely with her good hand, not sure what word to use. Honourable? Fair?

Mitsuhide’s expression softened, a directness in his gaze that was rare. “He will understand, Ness. He values honesty, even difficult truths.” He held her gaze for a pause, a silent promise, one that seemed utterly sincere.

Nobunaga’s intense carnelian eyes flicked towards Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide met his lord’s gaze, a subtle, confident glint in his amber eyes. 「My lord, Ness has something she wishes to share with you.」

Ness took a deep, steadying breath, the weight of the moment settling upon her. This is it. She’d demanded the right to do this herself, and she would see it through. Raising her head, she met Nobunaga’s intense gaze directly, carefully masking the edge of fear. Beside her, she could hear Ieyasu’s silent, grounding presence, his breath steady, a reminder to keep her composure.

“Nobunaga,” she began quietly, her voice steady and resolved. Mitsuhide began his calm, neutral translation, his gaze focused on his lord. “I asked Mitsuhide and Ieyasu to allow me to speak with you today because… there is something that I have been concealing from you.”

Hideyoshi leaned forward slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his soft brown eyes, while Masamune’s visible eye widened almost imperceptibly. Mitsunari tilted his head, that sweet expression suddenly assessing her. Nobunaga, however, remained utterly still, as inscrutable as she remembered.

“Please understand,” Ness continued, her gaze sweeping across the faces of the men in the room, “I did not do so out of disrespect or distrust, but… caution. What I concealed is… an aspect of my nature that defies your typical expectations.” She paused, gathering her thoughts, the magnitude of her difference from them pressing in. “And… I am aware that this part of my nature could be misunderstood or cause alarm in this land.”

Her eyes returned to Nobunaga, a flicker of determination burning within her chest. She could sense the sharp intelligence behind those carnelian eyes, the mind that was no doubt already dissecting her words.

“I was protecting myself,” Ness paused, searching for the right words, and let out a barely audible sigh. “But I was… naive. My… encounter yesterday made clear that keeping this concealed is more dangerous than revealing it.” She stopped again. She knew that words alone would not suffice. You have to show him. “Look…” she said, a hint of weariness in her tone, “please just don’t freak out.”

Mitsuhide leaned closer, a spark of curiosity in those amber eyes. “Freak out?” he murmured. “An explanation of this term, Ness?”

“It means to…” Then, despite the tension, despite the fear, a genuine laugh bubbled up from Ness. The bright, clear sound rang through the chamber. “Never mind,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I somehow forgot who I was talking to for a moment.” She met Nobunaga’s gaze once more, the laughter at the mere thought of him ‘freaking out’ fading. The time for words was over. 

Without another word, she bowed her head, and slipped the silk scarf off. It fell into her lap with a rustle, an image worth more than any words. The silence that followed her revelation was… stunned. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her breath held, a subtle, burning sensation that spread through her lungs.

Ieyasu leaned slightly closer to her, his voice a low and steady murmur, 「Breathe, Ness.」 

His words required no translation, and they seemed to unlock her frozen lungs. She took another breath, trying to steady herself before she finally raised her head.

Nobunaga’s gleaming eyes were fixed on her hair, the messy, vibrant regrowth standing up like captured flames. Whatever he had anticipated, it was clear this was not it, but his expression held no shock or fear. 「Remarkable.」 His wolfish smile held a touch of satisfaction, 「I knew my saviour concealed more secrets.」 

Beside him, Masamune’s reaction was far more unrestrained. The usual smirk vanished, replaced by wide-eyed awe and delighted, booming laughter, 「The kitten is a tiger. I knew you had claws, lass.」

An expression of genuine, good-natured fascination had spread across Hideyoshi’s face. He leaned forward, his soft brown eyes glinting with curiosity. 「It’s like… like fire! Is it warm to touch?」

Ness blinked, internally rolling her eyes as she tried to keep her smile polite. She couldn’t resist. “Only when I’m angry.” 

「Is that why you’re so good at getting out of tight spots, Ness?」 Masamune’s eye, intensely focused on her hair, held a hint of amusement. 「The fire hair gives you special powers, right?」

Ness tried, but she couldn’t restrain the eye-roll then. “Do you think I’d be sitting here if I had special powers? It’s… just hair. Not fire, not hot, just… red.”

「Red? But how did it come to be such a colour, Lady Ness?」 Mitsunari was subjecting her to an astonished study, his gaze perplexed and calculating at the same time.

“I ate some copper,” she replied, making her tone as earnest as she could. 

Mitsunari’s eyes went even wider, his voice utterly sincere, 「Lady Ness, I don’t think that was a very wise thing to do.」

Ness blinked, then stared over at Mitsuhide’s smirking expression, and arched one eyebrow. Is he for real? Mitsuhide just smirked harder at the silent question. She sighed, returning her eyes to Mitsunari, “It’s just the colour I was born with.”

Nobunaga’s gleaming carnelian eyes were still fixed on her hair. 「Born with?」 he murmured softly, almost a subtle hint of amusement in that voice. 「Does everyone from your land possess such unique hair?」

“No, not everyone,” Ness began cautiously, trying not to get into a conversation about genetics, “but… it’s not rare. Just uncommon. It’s a trait that runs in families.”

Mitsuhide leaned forward slightly. “In families?” he echoed, his amber eyes glinting with that familiar spark of curious analysis. “So there are others in your family with this same characteristic?”

She felt the subtle probe, the constant, careful questioning about her origins, her family. A small, wry smirk played on her lips. “Some of them. But most of them are blond. Like Ieyasu.” 

Then Ieyasu shifted slightly, ignoring that entirely, his sharp gaze turning to her as he addressed her directly. 「So your hair has never caused you danger in your own land?」

“No, never,” Ness replied with a shake of her head. “It’s completely normal to us.”

Mitsuhide’s lips twitched, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. “There are no superstitions or beliefs associated with it then?”

“Well, it’s often said that our hair matches our temper…” She realised, even as the sentence stuttered to an end on her lips, that she had just handed Mitsuhide a perfectly polished piece of ammunition. But he didn’t reply. He simply leaned back slightly, clearly savouring the implications, which was almost more annoying. 

「Temper, eh? That explains a lot, lass,」 Masamune declared, his single eye glinting with mischievous delight as he examined her hair again. 「I knew you had a warrior’s spirit.」

Ieyasu let out a low, almost weary sigh, shifting his weight, not bothering to hide his irritation. 「That would be a little more useful if she was actually a warrior.」

Ness, surprisingly, found herself nodding, a wry smile on her face. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, a quick, almost unconscious agreement. “Tell me about it.”

Ieyasu blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, a faint frown creasing his brow. He simply stared at her, as if his usual stoicism had been briefly disrupted by the unprecedented agreement, the momentary shift in their usual, predictable dynamic.

「You seemed… anxious before revealing it, Ness. What were you afraid of?」 Hideyoshi leaned forward to ask, his usual open expression now tinged with concern.

Ness made a soft, thoughtful noise, then glanced around the chamber at the faces watching her. She took a breath, and answered quietly, almost casually, “I suppose the worst case scenario is being burned at the stake.” She wasn’t entirely sure if they would actually grasp the meaning of that.

She got her answer when a ripple of silence spread through the chamber, as if her almost throwaway words were a stone in a pond. Masamune’s wide smile faltered, and HIdeyoshi’s concerned expression tightened into confusion. Mitsunari’s violet eyes narrowed, gleaming suddenly as if he was making a hundred different calculations. Even Nobunaga’s inscrutable gaze seemed to sharpen, a hint of unspoken meaning in their depths. She sighed internally. Only Ieyasu and Mitsuhide remained impassive, their eyes fixed on her in silent, intent watchfulness.

Then Mitsuhide leaned forward slightly, his voice carefully measured, “Burned… at the stake? What does that mean, exactly, little mouse?” 

“That’s… what happens to women accused of being witches in… other parts of the West,” Ness carefully explained. “It’s not like… they’d burn me just for having red hair, but it… wouldn’t help.” She trailed off, the difficulty of explaining this to men likely steeped in their own versions of superstition becoming quickly apparent.

There was a beat of silence, and then Hideyoshi, his confusion still evident, asked, 「So… are you a witch, then?」 It wasn’t an accusation, more a genuinely bewildered question.

Ness, despite the tension, couldn’t help but laugh. It was a bright, sharp sound of pure incredulity that echoed through the chamber. “Witches aren’t real,” she replied, shaking her head. “They’re just women who men can’t control.” Even as she said it, she was kicking herself mentally. Great job, Ness. Fight the warlord patriarchy. 

Ieyasu gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, a flicker of something almost amused in those sharp, green eyes. 「On that basis, it seems… a witch is precisely what you are.」 He let out a low, weary sigh, containing just a touch of resigned acceptance.

Masamune let out a rumbling laugh. 「He’s got you there, lass. Untamed, opinionated, and can’t be controlled? Sounds like a witch to me.」 His fierce blue eye crinkled with mirth.

Nobunaga’s lips curved in a faint smile, a low chuckle escaping him. Hideyoshi’s confusion melted into a good-natured grin, and Mitsuhide’s analytical expression returned to its regular amusement. Even Mitsunari wore a soft, if slightly perplexed, smile. The tension, so thick moments before, dissipated in the face of it.

「Speaking of other parts of the West,」 Masamune said, his voice regaining a playful lilt, 「I’ve brought you a present, lass.」 With a flourish, he reached behind him and produced a rolled-up piece of parchment, tied with a ribbon. 「Behold! The world, as seen by those who dare to sail beyond the horizon. I’m told it’s very accurate.」

Ieyasu raised a brow just slightly, his expression one of faint scepticism, his voice dry, 「A map from a Nanban trader? Yes, I’m sure it’s entirely accurate and not at all designed to make their homeland appear more… strategically advantageous.」 

Masamune, undeterred as always, untied the ribbon and unfurled the parchment with a snap. It was a map, hand-drawn and vibrantly coloured, depicting lands and seas far beyond the shores of Japan. The scent of foreign ink filled the air, a whisper of distant shores. 

Ness was still trying to grasp the fact that they had just moved on, just like that, from the hair, from the anxiety. And Ieyasu made a joke. That part was practically more unbelievable. But then, her gaze snagged on the unfurling expanse, and for a moment, she was simply stunned into silence. Her breath caught, a soft, almost reverent murmur escaping her. “Oh my God…” she breathed, leaning forward, her good hand lifting to let her fingers hover above the surface.

Her eyes roved over the map, taking in every exquisite detail. It was remarkably accurate for the age. Europe was a tapestry of recognisable nations, Africa a vast, intriguing continent, and Asia stretched out in a riot of colour and intricate detail. Tiny, hand-drawn illustrations were scattered all across this world that held an astonishing familiarity - European castles, Arabian cities, Brazilian rainforest, African elephants, Chinese pagodas, Mecca. Everywhere she looked held a new, fascinating element. The oceans were scattered with ships. An intricate border framed the entire world, a pattern of blue waves with shining, golden compasses on the corners. It was an astonishing thing, a fusion of scientific endeavour and artistic imagination, a tangible link to a world both familiar and impossibly alien.

The only thing Ness could do in the face of it was let out an uninhibited, clear, delighted laugh. “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” She murmured the words, an almost hushed sound.

Masamune wore a wide, proud grin on his face. 「I knew you’d appreciate it. Look at these lands! Full of wonders, no doubt, and dangers.」 He tilted his head, his gaze as direct as always, and gestured across the sprawling map. 「Perhaps you could comment on the accuracy of it for us?」

“Accuracy?” Her smile widened, and she shook her head just slightly, acutely aware that she was treading on dangerous ground. “It has sea monsters on it.” Her finger, still hovering, moved to the offending element in question. 

「It also has a dragon, you know. A magnificent beast, a symbol of power and wisdom, revered across our lands.」 Masamune preened, the smile on his face almost proud. He gestured grandly to a swirling, serpentine creature coiled around a familiar, distant landmass.

“Dragons aren’t real,” Ness responded, her smile radiating innocence. “And neither are sea monsters, for that matter.”

「Not real?」 Masamune’s visible eye widened in playful offense. 「Our dragons bring rain and good fortune, lass. They are guardians of the waters and the skies, not mere beasts of fantasy!」 

“Oh? Is that so?” Ness laughed softly, shrugging lightly. “I don’t think we’re imagining the same kind of dragon, then.”

Mitsunari looked up from the map, which he’d been assessing with a sharpness in that violet gaze that almost surprised her, and leaned forward, curiosity in his expression. 「Are dragons different in your culture, Lady Ness?」

“Well,” Ness paused. It was getting harder to keep her smile innocent. Masamune’s going to love this. “The dragons I know of are sitting on a hoard of treasure, breathing fire, kidnapping princesses, and killing the knights who try to rescue them.”

Masamune’s grin returned, wide and wicked. 「Kidnapping princesses, you say? Perhaps I should take a lesson from these Western dragons. I’ve already demonstrated an aptitude.」 His eye gleamed, a clear reference to the ‘unsanctioned outing’ a few weeks ago that had so annoyed Ieyasu, his demeanour subtly flirtatious.

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw subtly tightening. 「Kidnapping princesses?」 His voice was a low, gruff rumble. He glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, before returning his attention to Masamune.「I suggest we focus on not losing the one we already have, rather than acquiring more trouble.」

Mitsuhide’s voice cut through the banter with a teasing, almost sharp note. 「It certainly is a unique approach to… princess management, Ieyasu.」 He turned those gleaming golden eyes towards her, a teasing hint in that gaze mingling with something she didn’t recognise. “Although the dragon’s troublesome nature does not appear to bother this princess?”

“I’m used to ‘troublesome’,” Ness softly dismissed. “He reminds me of my brother, that way. And I’m not a princess.” The final words were an almost reflexive denial.

Mitsuhide’s smile widened, amusement flashing in his eyes. There was more than a subtle hint of satisfaction to his grin, as if he was looking forward to breaking the news to Masamune. 「She says… that you remind her of her brother.」

His boisterous demeanour deflated dramatically as Mitsuhide delivered the ‘devastating’ revelation. Masamune clapped a hand over his heart, feigning a mortal wound, groaning dramatically. 「My heart… 」 Then his grin widened again, his ‘wound’ forgotten. 「This brother of yours must be devastatingly handsome and charming, kitten?」

Ness rolled her eyes but she offered a teasing, vaguely reassuring smile. “Oh yes, and my most favourite brother too. Does that help?”

Mitsuhide, of course, seized on this. His eyes narrowed slightly, an amused glint in them. “You choose favourites? How intriguing, little mouse. A beloved older brother, perhaps?” He was always searching for more.

Ness laughed, a soft, exasperated sound, then shrugged. “They’re all older, Mitsuhide. It’s a bit like having a permanent, very opinionated, oversight committee.” She let the obvious comparison go without saying, her soft laughter fading into the hint of a smile. 

Her casual bombshell landed with a subtle but palpable impact. She caught a fleeting exchange over her head between Mitsuhide and Ieyasu, trying to judge their expressions from the corner of her eye. Mitsuhide’s unwavering smile twitched, a subtle moment of tension, before softening. Then Ieyasu let out a low, weary sigh. Are they just a little relieved?

Ness laughed softly to herself, shaking her head. She went back to the map, her finger hovering, tracing the lines of the continent without touching. “Yes..” she said almost inaudibly, “That is a wise reaction, but… I won’t be making introductions any time soon.” And then her finger came to hover above the small island far out at the very edge, and she finally, finally, caressed the paper with a delicate touch.

A bewildering sensation washed over her. It was home, undeniably, the place of her birth, of her family, of everything she had known. Yet, it was also her history, impossibly distant, a faint smudge on a map that to her was… centuries old. The familiarity was a sharp ache, a longing that twisted in her gut, but also a stark reminder of how irrevocably changed her reality had become. Home, but not home. A ghost of a past that felt both tangible and utterly out of reach. And just like that, she had to fight to keep the faint smile on her face.

Nobunaga’s gaze narrowed as it moved from the map to her, then back again. His jaw, usually so relaxed, now held a subtle rigidity. 「The very edge,」 he mused, his tone almost soft, as if it was less about geography and more about profound remoteness.

Ieyasu let out a low, rough sound next to her, a wordless mixture of exasperation and disbelief, as if seeing it had truly made it reality. Then he let out a heavy sigh, his voice gruff, 「No wonder you’re so clueless about everything.」 

“I’m not…” The irritation was clear in her tone, but her words halted abruptly when she caught sight of the expression in those sharp, green eyes - that constant simmering irritation mingling with a hint of… understanding. Ness restrained herself to letting out a barely audible huff of breath instead.

Mitsunari’s eyes narrowed in intense calculation, then he reached out to trace the vast ocean between Japan and that distant speck with his own finger. 「That island? This is the one, Lady Ness? But how could one possibly… traverse such a distance?」 His sweet voice was low, his intellect grappling with the sheer logistics.

Masamune let out a thoughtful sound. 「Perhaps… she could travel with the Nanban traders?」 he mused aloud, turning towards her, his voice carrying a new, almost eager note. 「Their ships are large, and their lands seem close enough to yours on this map, lass. They sail these very seas to come to us. You could return with them.」

The suggestion landed like a stone in the quiet chamber. And then Ness had to do much more than fight to keep the faint smile on her face. Oh my God. What if they really try to…? The realisation that they might try to send her home, not to her real home, but just to the country, made her stomach churn. Fuck, what if the time travel only works in Japan? No, no… focus, Ness. She forced herself to just listen to the careful translations that came in Mitsuhide’s neutral tone, to try to keep her face composed in the face of those observant amber eyes.

A muscle twitched in Ieyasu’s jaw, and his eyes narrowed at Masamune.「With traders?」 His voice was a low growl, edged with sarcastic disbelief. 「And I suppose their highly accurate maps make them immune to storms, then? To pirates? To getting lost in the endless expanse?」 He made a gruff, harsh sound. 「Only you would suggest such a fool’s errand, Masamune.」

Before Masamune could formulate a retort, Hideyoshi stepped in. 「Ieyasu is right, Masamune,」 he said, his voice unusually firm. 「She is a young woman, alone, and those traders… they are not to be trusted with such precious cargo. Who would look after her? Who would ensure her safety?」 His gaze was direct and earnest, his brotherly instincts no doubt rising.

「But what if the danger is here, Lord Hideyoshi?」 Mitsunari interjected, his sweet voice laced with concern. 「Lady Ness would be safer in her own homeland. Perhaps the Nanban missionaries could offer her passage? From what I understand, a woman would be safe with them.」 He looked at Nobunaga, his violet eyes wide with earnest conviction, a touch of naive logic in his reasoning.

Mitsuhide’s faint smile remained, but his amber eyes, fixed on Mitsunari, held a subtle, unreadable intensity. His gaze flicked to her for just a breath, a fleeting, almost imperceptible softening around his eyes. 「Yes, Mitsunari, their vows are strict. But the world, and indeed, the hearts of men, can be… unpredictable,」he said softly, the subtle implications seeming to glide effortlessly over Mitsunari’s head.

Nobunaga shifted, finally speaking again in a low, authoritative voice. 「The debt of a life cannot be settled with such a flimsy coin. To place her in greater peril would be an insult to her service.」 His gaze swept over the group, resting for a moment on Ness, then settling back on the map. 「She remains here. Under our protection. That matter is closed.」

As his translation settled, there was a subtle shift in Mitsuhide’s eyes, a flicker that might have been relief, or perhaps a quiet satisfaction at the finality of Nobunaga’s words. It was impossible to tell, as always. Ieyasu let out a low, almost inaudible grunt next to her. He didn’t look at her, but that stoic profile seemed to harden even further, as if he was putting more effort into maintaining it.

The sheer weight of the decision washed over her with a potent, dizzying wave of relief that made her lightheaded. But with that relief came a deep, aching sadness, a profound sense of isolation. Her gaze drifted back to the map, to the tiny island, home, but not home. The composure she fought to maintain on her face felt brittle, a fragile shield against the conflicting emotions swirling within her.

The warlords, seemingly oblivious to the internal maelstrom, continued their conversation, their voices a low hum around her. Ness heard snippets of Mitsuhide’s soft translations, rendering their boisterous exchange into something she could grasp, but the words were distant, muffled by the ache in her chest. She was here, safe, but irrevocably adrift. Lost.

Then, a gentle pressure on her arm, a quiet anchor in the swirling chaos. Ieyasu, his gaze calm and direct, leaned in slightly. 「When are you going to stop holding your breath?」 he said quietly, irritation in that gruff voice.

The usually neutral tone of Mitsuhide’s translation held a subtle hint of anticipatory amusement as he relayed this, and sure enough, he was rewarded by the instant expulsion of air from her lips. She took a deep, steadying breath, her lungs starving for it, as Mitsuhide’s low chuckle vibrated next to her ear, and Ieyasu’s lips twitched with a hint of something smug.

Mitsuhide settled for a moment, that knowing gaze fixed on her face as if he was searching for something, and wasn’t entirely certain what he’d found. “You seem… distant, little mouse. Imagining the vistas of your homeland?” His voice was soft, almost empathetic.

Ness glanced back at the map, the dot, the distant, historical place that might as well have been fantasy. But it wasn’t that version of it she was imagining, and the soft words fell out before she could stop them, “Well… I’m never going to see them again, am I?” She had no idea how she’d arrived and even less about how to return, and she was trying to be pragmatic, but those words… were a quiet agony to say, one she tried to keep off her face.

A fleeting glance passed between Ieyasu and Mitsuhide, a silent communication that acknowledged the rawness she’d just exposed. Ieyasu remained impassive, but she felt the subtle shift of his weight beside her, as if to remind her of his grounding presence, his protection. Mitsuhide’s hand, resting lightly on the tatami between them, remained still, but his gaze held a subtle reassurance, a softening of that sharpness.

Then Nobunaga tilted his head, and Mitsuhide provided the silently demanded translation without further prompting. Nobunaga was silent for a moment, as if in contemplation. 「No, Ness.」 His voice was firm, infused with a decisive intent. 「That island may be out of reach. But your future is here with us, now, and we will ensure your safety.」 

Ness felt that complicated response again, a swirling turmoil of gratitude, discomfort, relief, doubt and loss, so fierce it took her breath away. She nodded in response, unable to find words, or maybe just afraid that her tightened throat wouldn’t be able to utter them.

Nobunaga’s gaze shifted away from her, making a brief connection with Ieyasu, and then Mitsuhide. 「Rumours rot campaigns from within,」 he said, his voice low and steady, but containing the authority of his command. 「Cut the rumour down with truth before it festers.」

Ieyasu, as if he understood this directive exactly, gave a curt, decisive nod. He didn’t speak, his expression unreadable. Mitsuhide bowed his head slowly, a touch lower than Ieyasu, the characteristic smile on his face holding just a hint of satisfaction. He murmured a soft, polite assent to his lord. She looked slowly from one to the other, finally landing on Mitsuhide, her eyebrow raising in a silent question.

Mitsuhide offered a small, reassuring smile, those amber eyes gleaming intently as they watched her face. It was as if he was waiting for her reaction. Which he probably is. “Lord Nobunaga has agreed that, given the improvements in your health, it is time for you to be introduced to wider society.”

She tried to control the expression on her face, because that’s what he was waiting to drink in. There’s a catch. There’s always a catch. There’s so much more they’re not saying. But she couldn’t restrain the warm pulse of delight that throbbed in her chest. She couldn’t help the wide, genuine smile that bloomed on her face. “You mean I get to look around Azuchi more?”

Ieyasu narrowed his eyes at her, a harsh, irritated little sound coming from his throat, 「You’re not free to run around whenever you please, so don’t get ideas.」

Mitsuhide’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he translated, then added his own reinforcement, "... a slow introduction, little mouse." And she almost laughed. I knew there’d be a catch. Even still, she was happy to get just a little bit more freedom. 

「And you will need to continue to conceal your hair, for now,」 Ieyasu added, that voice low and gruff, laying out the rules as if he just expected her to obey them while everybody else looked on like this was an amusing, but normal, thing.

Ness ran her good hand through her hair for a moment, the soft, short strands still such an alien sensation. There was a pang of frustration but she held in the sigh and nodded. “And I will take Haru and Makoto with me wherever I go, I assume,” she added, irritated, but not bothering to hide the touch of amusement.

Ieyasu let out a low sigh, and for a moment, there was an expression on his usually stoic face… like he was being tested. 「Yes, you will take the damn guards,」 his low voice rumbled with irritation.

Ness raised an eyebrow at that, tilting her head towards Mitsuhide as he finished his translation. “Is there anything else he’d like to… request?” she prompted, almost sweetly, though she couldn’t decide if she was amused or irritated right now.

“I’m sure there’s a lot more he’s going to add, little mouse,” Mitsuhide replied, without translating her question. “But perhaps we’ll save that joy for later,” he added, the suggestion gentle, but the smile knowing.

Ness sighed, but it was inevitable, and it was the price of more freedom. Still, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice, “Yes, that sounds even more exciting than the freedom itself.” 

Another ripple of laughter went through the room, and just like that, another topic was closed, another decision made, and everything moved on. It was almost jarring, how they did that. But their voices washed over her, a sound that was becoming familiar and uncomfortably comforting, and Ness sat in the warm glow of knowing that, once again, her reality was changing. And this time, it was genuinely… exciting.