Taste

Horizon

She had such few things, he realized, just that satchel she'd arrived with and a few clothes. The plan meant it was impossible for her to take anything with the Oda crest on it, and that meant her wardrobe was depleted significantly, too. In secret, Mitsuhide slipped out to the fabric merchant and bought five bolts for her. He knew what she'd eyed. While she waited in Kasugayama, at least she would have something to make herself. At first the gifts delighted her. And then–and then she cupped her hand around her mouth and turned her head. He knew that expression.

"Come now," Mitsuhide sighed. "Come. There's no need to cry."

She faced him again, eyes dewy. "I'm going to miss you."

A hard lump formed in his throat. How unfair. Mitsuhide wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him, kissing a lock of her hair. "Would it make you feel better if I promised to visit?"

She pouted. "How often?"

"As often as I can manage," he purred. "Did you really think I could have you in my arms these past nights and let you go so easily now?"

Pink wasn't a color Mitsuhide thought much of, but when she blushed, it was his favorite color. He tipped her chin with a finger. "Now, that's a better look on you."

"Oh, stop that."

"Oh, should I?"

She didn't answer. Maybe, in fairness, he hadn't given her enough time to. Instead he pulled her in by her nape and sealed her lips in a kiss. Her body went limp and heavy against his, her hands clutching at his robes, her breath in ragged gasps when he allowed her to part, even a little, from him.

"They'll be here soon for you," he murmured against her mouth. She mewled in response and pulled him back to her. He loved, loved, loved it when she was needy. Pulling her waist taught against his, he dipped her to the tatami and eased his fingers along the edge of her kimono. She shuddered. Emboldened, he dragged his lips down, down, down along her skin until he teased the very lowest point of bare flesh on her chest, then slowly, slowly parted it a half inch.

She arched her back and gasped. Mitsuhide grinned savagely against the curve of her breast and kissed her there, flicking a taunting tongue across it. Oh, how he wanted more. How he wanted to rip her from her obi and unwind her on his floor...

He straightened her clothing and smiled at her, the heave of her chest telling. "Princess, are you quite alright?"

All she managed was a whine, pushing her hair back. Her eyes were glossy with need. If only he could indulge it... but no. Quietly, he pressed another kiss to her hand.

"Come. We need you to be ready for your friend."

Sasuke arrived at the appointed time, looking as serious as ever. Mitsuhide handed over the Chatelaine's things and watched as the stonefaced ninja fixed them onto a saddlebag.

"I put some paper and ink in with your things," he remarked quietly to the woman.

"You're terrible at answering letters," she commented. "You wait until they pile up like a fire hazard."

"For you, I'll answer immediately."

"Alright." Sasuke nodded at the both of them seriously. "Are you ready?"

"As much as I can be." She cast Mitsuhide a long gaze, and he resisted the urge to bend her backward in the center of Azuchi and kiss her until she gasped. "Is it a long ride?"

"Relatively. It's a shame we don't have Mad Libs or anything to pass the time."

"What, now?" Mitsuhide asked.

"Regional thing," the Chatelaine answered, and turned away from him again. "Thank you, Mitsuhide."

He hesitated where he stood, then moved forward with her to the horse, boosting her up into the saddle himself. She smiled gratefully down at him.

"Be careful," he murmured to her. To Sasuke, he added, "Keep her safe."

"Of course." The man shoved his glasses back up onto his nose. "With all my ninja arts."

What a strange man. Mitsuhide backed away, and with a crack of the reigns, the two were off. He watched as her head grew smaller and smaller, the flutter of her kimono disappearing into the distance, and then–nothing.

And yet he stared still, praying–for once in his life–that he had made the right choice.