A Song for the Devil

Morning Services

I woke up before the sun again. I tried to go back to sleep but eventually decided to go to the kitchen.

The warm light from the fireplace spills out into the hallway toward me and seems to carry the comforting smell of food my way as well. As I pushed the door open it I saw the familiar figure of Masamune Date slumped over the table. A bottle of sake and a cup next to his head. I rush to check the food that he's left unattended and my shuffling and moving things to prevent burns stirs away.

"Mitsuhi— oh... you." He's a bit drunk and sleep is still in his eyes as he sits up and stretches his arm with a yawn reminiscence of a cat.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping Date?" I ask as I stir the miso soup that he's neglected.

"Shouldn't you? We have quit the journey to embark on tomorrow, and you have training during the breaks." He came beside me to check on his food.

"I'm rested." I inform in a dignified manner as I step aside to let him finish his own food preparations.

His words came out teasing and knowing in a way that makes my limbs tense up. "I don't know how you could be well rested with the two of them snoring on either side of you."

He turned to look at me with his one humored sapphire eye to laugh at how stiff I was standing. "Don't worry. I won't hold it against you. I'm not Mitsuhi—" he clenched his hands and face in anger as he turned back to the food.

Once I relaxed enough to move I brought a hand to his shoulder and spoke gently. "You seem hurt sensei?"

He chuckled, a low sad sound, before sitting back down at the table. I sat across from him and waited for him to speak. When he did his hands were clasped tight, pressing his fingers between his knuckles. "I defended him so many times against everyone's suspicions... I thought it was just that his work required him to be distant and illusive."

"Why did you defend him?" I asked, making sure to remove any hint of judgment from my voice.

His whole expression darkens a little, missing all signs of his usual spark of mischief and adventure. "I've known him a very long time. I knew him before Nobunaga. When he joined his cause I campaigned vehemently to be allies with him and despite my brother's initial hesitancy to be a part of such a large movement for this country, he agreed because of Mitsuhide's involvement."

I got up to check on the food as he explained that he wasn't able to secure the alignment with the Oda for many months, it wasn't until shortly after Hideyoshi was made a Daimyo under Nobunaga.

I return to the table to place the rice, miso soup and some pickled fish in front of him. I poured us each a small cup of sake and he drank his quickly before turning to the meal. I rested the warm cup on my bottom lip and took a breath before taking my first sip. He ate slowly, as if his thoughts and memories were also being chewed on between bites of actual food.

After a second sip my voice broke the silence. I was mentally switching from concern for a soldier to tactician as the question left my mouth. "Since you've know him the longest... why do you think he did it?"

His head shot up to look at me as several different emotions ran across his face. Irritation, anger, sadness, pain, back to anger when he finally answered. "Because he believes it will be advantageous for himself. He's patient when it comes to what he wants, I made the mistake before of confusing that patience with loyalty, until it turned out to be his greed after all. My guess is that his mother's death also helps him justify being a gutless kit." He saw the confusion on my face and after a sigh he continued. "Two years ago his mother, the only remaining family member he had, was killed during a battle. He blamed Nobunaga... and Mitsunari... and well all of the Oda forces for her death."