Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda

Chapter 30: Unavoidable Regrets

"Halt!"

I caught the flash of gleaming metal as Himetsuru Ichimonji sliced through the air, stopping right in front of my throat.

No, it wasn't Groundhog's Day... but the déjà vu was real. It was neither the first time someone ordered me to halt in the corridors of Kasugayama, nor the first time Kenshin held a sword to my throat. "Has the healer given permission for you to leave your quarters?" Kenshin stood ready to decapitate me if I took another step outside my room.

"I feel fine. It was just a cold!" I didn't mention that the healer had wanted me to rest another day. Said healer had taken his cue from Kenshin, who was a wee bit overcautious when it came to the health of the denizens of Kasugayama. He probably thought Kenshin would kill him if he let me out too soon. Which... given his willingness to swing Himetsuru Ichimonji through the corridors of the castle... it wasn't that farfetched of a possibility.

"Illness is not something to take lightly." Kenshin poked the sword at me, forcing me to take a step backward.

Well, yes, if he was talking about Shingen, then I agreed. But I had only had a case of the sniffles and a bit of a sore throat. And a fever, but only for a couple days.

I tried to edge around him.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Again, I was forced to inch backward. "I rested. I've been resting for almost a week. The cold got bored and left."

He scowled at me. "You sound like a rusty tree frog."

Blame your ninja for that. Every day Sasuke dropped in on me (literally) to quiz me on my memories of history -- he was still trying to figure out if we had come from the same future. My lack of voice owed more to overuse than illness.

"Lord Kenshin, please, I no longer feel sick. If I don't get any exercise soon, I'll go stir crazy." All I wanted was to take a brisk stroll in the garden. And perhaps practice archery. And wave at Shingen from the door of his room, to see for my own eyes how he was doing.

With his typical lightning speed, Kenshin performed a series of katas. "If it is exercise you want, I will spar with you. Should you win, you will be permitted to leave your quarters."

"Lord Kenshin, even if I were the healthiest person in the country, I wouldn't be able to best you in combat." I suppose that might count as exercise. A very short exercise.

"Then you won't be leaving your quarters, will you?" With the sword, he pointed at my futon. "Go. The maids will bring more soup. You will be expected to finish it."

I had been fed so much spicy soup of the past few days; I was going to float away. Under Kenshin's fierce, battle hungry God of War exterior (way way under it), was the soul of a Jewish grandmother. With an internal sigh, I bowed to him. "Thank you." I turned to go back into my room, then paused and looked back at him. "He's still doing better today, right?"

Shingen's visitors were severely restricted to two people per day – specifically 'two people-who-were-not-also-sick' per day. More specifically, restricted to Kenshin plus one person who-was-not-also-sick.

He gave me a surprisingly gentle smile. "Yes. The healer says that so far his current illness did not lodge in his lungs, and as long as he rests, he should continue to improve."

"It's true." Mai suddenly appeared at Kenshin's side. "I just saw him." She pulled a folded paper out of her kimono. "He dictated a letter to you." She fanned herself with it. "Very hot. I blushed a lot while I was writing it down."