A bellflower for your garden.

Whatever the heart wants

          "Leave me be, little trouble! You are in no position to tend to anyone, let alone a traitor to the Oda clan! Go report me... Save yourself...Run... Run, little mouse, run..." he said, groaning in pain and pushing her away, his clothes soaked in blood. Marina slapped his hand and went back to laying him on her bed and removing unnecessary objects from him. The last thing she took was a half-torn letter that spoke of a secret meeting with Mitsuhide and an enemy to the clan, already stained by his blood. Proof of that enemy's true colors towards Nobunaga, but not of Mitsuhide's innocence. Yet she knew he once again had risked everything to keep his lord safe, despite everyone thinking he was a good for nothing traitor and was hunting him for the past months.

          "I said leave me, little woman! I don't know why you keep insisting in helping a dangerous man! I may be after your life next to save my skin!" he hissed, going for his knife. He was extra snarky when he was in pain, and she knew him well by now to ignore all that. Luck was on his side an hour ago! Everyone in the main building was already fast asleep when she heard his pained sighs outside her ground floor window. Marina went to the garden carefully, as he had taught her, with her small riffle loaded and aiming, when she spotted him, a heap of whiteness among her dark back yard. He had collapsed by the blue bellflowers... Took her a good while to drag him in semi-conscious and get together an ER in her bedroom!

          "If you did not want my help, you should have dragged your sorry ass by Hideyoshi's window and ask to be imprisoned, tortured and eventually executed. You have my vote on that. Actually, you passed it coming here... As you did the guards' posts along the main corridors... So spare me the villain speech! The hour is late and I am weary and older than you think to pamper teenage behaviors" she said, placing his belongings in a cloth bag for later and putting the kettle in the fire to start disinfecting what she would use. Once the water would boil, she would add necessary liquids and metal instruments in it.

          "Is that what you think? That I need you? That I came here because – OH – I need your help? I need nothing! I am... Ah... Fine!" he groaned, trying to stand and bleeding on her quilt. Approaching fast, she kicked the side of his leg to make him lose his balance, took the knife from him and put it against his throat. He stopped moving, reading her determination in her dark eyes. Swallowing, he nodded lightly to let her know he understood and went back to being still on her bed.

          "You know what, little white fox? I swear, one of these days, if your secret missions don't kill you, I sure as hell will!" Marina said, concern balancing equally with anger in her deep voice as she threw the knife in the bag, as well. "And you can quit the traitor act with me, I never bought it... So shut up and let me help!" He tried lifting his bloody torso off her mattress again, and she had to push him down by his shoulders. "Sit the fuck down! Haven't they taught you obeying fucking commands in fucking spy school? I need to take care of y- I need to take care of this!" she spat, rage winning over worry now. He moaned and let his head fall back on her pillow, silver strands escaping here and there. There was no point in arguing with her when she was as determined as now... Too many uses of the f word meant temper... Part of what Mitsuhide found so endearing and upsetting when thinking of her was her determination and take-no-shit attitude. Huh, his little mouse was never little, after all... No sir! His eyes followed her movements as she started mixing liquids and adding instruments in the boiling pot.

          She ignored his eyes and small groans of pain. "You should present your case to Nobunaga, you know... The letter proves you went there to spy and your clothes and suspected underlying wounds show you left with a disagreement. Nobunaga is an intelligent man, he will understand." She walked over to the fire and took the gauzes, thin knife, thread and needle out of the boiling water before preparing his anesthetic in a cup. She spread the cloth onto the disinfected iron bars to steam off and dry, her hands red from the temperature, stinging in pain. She bit her lips and crawled back to him, holding a towel with a mild soothing balm against her palms. No amount of pain was important if he was in danger. Nothing, nothing mattered!