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#I think my strategy for tomorrow night will be to eat myself into a coma. to literally eat so much that my body just passes out
woodruff · 3 years
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i am looking forward to the day where this thing will stop stealing my sleep
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the12thnightproject · 3 years
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Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda, Chapter Four: Occupational Hazards
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Katsuko delivers dessert to Shingen, she receives bad news in return. Also, archery, and a blindfold. TW: Offscreen death
“Halt!”
With his mouth set in a determined line, Yuki barred my progress toward Shingen’s room. Every time I tried to go around him, he leaped to block me like a goalie defending a football net. “Where are you going with that?”
Since I was carrying a handful of messages and a basket of pastry, I thought it should be obvious. “Don’t ask a question you already know the answer to.”
Yuki looked over his shoulder and scowled in the direction of Shingen’s room. “I see he’s already trying to bypass my orders by sending you out for dessert.”
“Your orders?” When did he join the calorie cops? “Why? Is there something wrong with these?” No one in the shop had seemed to have any issue with them.
“It’s not good for him to eat that many sweets, that’s all.” Yuki reached for the basket, presumably to confiscate the contraband, but I scooted out of the way.
“Really? He looks like he’s in good shape.” Really, really good shape. My job is to stay observant, so observing that Shingen is a decent specimen is an occupational hazard – especially given all of the pec airing that he does.
At that exact moment, the Occupational Hazard stepped out of his room, and there’s no way that he could have avoided hearing my comment, so I looked him right in the eyes, and tacked on, “for his age.”
I know. That was petty of me. But I was still angry at that setting me up to be killed thing. On an intellectual level I knew his “black powder test” had been a perfectly logical strategy, but what if I had gotten that powder on my hands by accident? Would he or Chiyome have killed me anyway?
With his back to Shingen, Yuki considered blithely on. “That’s not the point. He refuses to watch-.” Yuki got a look at my face, then sighed. “He’s behind me again, isn’t he?”
I nodded, as for the second time that day, Shingen thwacked Yuki on the back of his head. He eyed the confections. “Thank you, Katsu. I think I look like I’m in good shape too. For any age. Also, your former master was correct in his assessment that you’re insubordinate.”
That could simply be the adrenaline rush of being not-dead.
On my way back to the castle I had considered his distrust of me. If I acted overly deferential, slinking around with my voice quiet and my eyes downcast, that would be more suspicious than if I were just my own, unfiltered, slightly insubordinate self. Maybe it’s a cliché, but in this case, the best defense would be a solid offense.
“Bring that inside,” Shingen motioned to the basket. “I’m dying for dessert.” At Shingen’s beckon, Yuki and I followed him back to his room, where I deposited my prize onto his writing desk (GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!). Shingen immediately dug in with the attitude of a man starving in the desert. Then, he tipped the basket towards us. “Help yourselves.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Yuki said. He continued to glare at the confections as if they had caused him a great insult.
The smell of the pastry had been torturing me all the way back from the shop – I honestly can’t remember the last time I had dessert… four years ago… maybe? I gratefully took him up on the offer, picked up the closest dumpling, and took a decent bite. My blood sugar level instantly tripled. Apparently Shingen has the palate of a nine year old boy. “Oh my God,” I managed to say.
Help!
“I know, right? Yuki doesn’t know what he is missing.” He fished around the basket for another sweet bun.
Tooth decay and a diabetic coma – that’s what he’s missing.
“Yuki can live with the deprivation,” said the man in question, who was clanking around in the fire pit.
Shingen pointed out the various treats. “If you like that one, then you have to taste this – they make it with red bean paste.”
“I’m still savoring the one I have.” I took as small a bite as I could get away with. I doubted I could realistically fake an mmmm noise. I’m a great liar – but there are limits to my talent.
Yuki discreetly passed me a cup of tea. Bless you, Yuki. Eager to change the subject before Shingen could ask me for a more detailed opinion on his beloved sugar grenades, I handed over his messages and reports.
I still hadn’t worked out how I was going to manage to secretly pass along the new information from Aki. Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary? Shingen had taken the sniper prisoner, so presumably the man was in the castle dungeon. Maybe he had already confessed to the assassination plot. “Have you questioned the man who tried to rob you last night?”
Shingen glanced up from a report he was scanning. “Unfortunately not. His wound turned septic and he hasn’t regained his senses.”
“Oh.” It was a good thing that I was already sitting down – otherwise I might have collapsed. I pictured the sniper as I had last seen him, moaning because an arrow - my arrow – had impaled his hand. I looked down at my own hand, a hand that not too long ago had born the imprint of a tokin. Tentatively I wiggled my fingers, imagining how it must have felt to feel the bite of metal tearing into it. If the sniper’s wound was gangrenous, then he’d probably lose his hand, maybe even-- “Is he likely to survive?”
Shingen looked at me like he was weighing several responses, before saying, “No. I doubt he will.”
So now, in addition to being a liar, I was also a killer.
I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I hadn’t meant to kill anyone, but that didn’t change the outcome. It suddenly felt like there were no nerves in my fingertips, but at the same time, internally I was feeling everything – shock, regret, guilt – in a swirl of emotion that roared in my ears. The sweet pastry that had fallen like a rock into my stomach threatened to reverse course.
I killed someone. Someone who was alive two days ago will not be alive tomorrow because of me.
When I re-opened my eyes, Shingen was still silently regarding me. I wondered if he had ever – well, that was a ridiculous thought. He was the leader of the Takeda clan – he had to have killed many in battle. “Does it get easier?”
Yukimura shook his head and responded first. “No. Never has.” He cleared his throat a couple of times, and gulped down his tea.
But Shingen had a different answer. “Killing? Yes. You learn to put what must done in one part of your mind, separate from the you that lives through every day, walled away from your heart. You have to, or one day you’ll no longer be able to function. But it’s still within you.” He tapped his chest. “It’s still within you.”
I understood. I was going to have to live with this. I was going to have to learn how to live with it.
Shingen sighed, and raked his hair out of his eyes. “I won’t insult you by telling you this man was a criminal and probably has harmed or killed many others. You know that. You also now know what it’s like to kill and that will weigh upon you.”
It did. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t tell me to get over it, or offer a cliched platitude like, ‘war is hell, kid.’ He was treating me like the young man he thought me to be – and I needed to respond accordingly. “Yes, sir, it does.”
His eyebrows lifted at my return to formality. “I would have respected you less if it didn’t bother you.”
“I didn’t shoot to kill him, but I knew that every time I picked up a weapon, I faced that possibility. But – I never understood what that knowledge meant. I hadn’t expected the possible to ever become a reality.” I wondered if I could have avoided this outcome. “Maybe if I had aimed at the musket and not his hand,” I said, mostly to myself. I mentally placed myself back in that tree, remembered how excited I had felt at being part of something. I’d even somewhat joked with myself about adding ghostly noises. It had almost felt like a game. Target shooting… except the targets breathed and bled.
Again that tingling in the ends of my fingertips. I scraped my hands across the tatami mat, hoping that feel of the straw would ground me. Something nudged my arm: Yuki, offering me more tea. I shook my head.
Shingen allowed me another moment to wallow, then seemed to come to a decision. He tapped his hand on his desk to get my attention. “If that was anything more than a lucky – or unlucky, depending how you look at it – shot,” Shingen said, his words challenging my dark mood, “I will swear off confections for a week.”
Wait…. What? The sudden reversal in his tone nearly gave me whiplash, shocking me out my emotional turmoil.
I couldn’t let that affront to my archery skills stand. Insult my swordplay all you want, but I’m absolutely accurate with a bow. “That arrow went right where I intended it to go. I’ve made harder shots blindfolded.”
“Get your weaponry then and meet me on the grounds as soon as you can.” He got up and headed for the door, his long legs crossing the distance in three strides.
Once he was gone, I looked at Yuki, who had been quiet through this entire conversation. “Did he just challenge me?”
“Not sure, but if you win, I’m holding him to that no-dessert-for-a-week penalty.” Yuki thumped me on the shoulder. “So, you’ve gotta win.”
***
Not a duel. It was much, much worse than that, I discovered a short while later, when I arrived to face what appeared to be at least half the residents of the castle, and a field set up with five targets in varying sizes placed further and further back.
With a dramatic bow, Shingen addressed the spectators. “Greetings my friends and” … another bow to Mai who was cuddled up with Kenshin, “Goddess.” He then gestured to me. “My newest recruit has been bragging about his prowess with a bow. And since it’s such a beautiful day outside, it seems a perfect occasion to test him on this.”
No pressure there. Thanks boss.
Yuki, who had taken the whole “no-dessert” thing to heart, was pacing out the distance to the targets. Not exactly necessary, but since he’d been getting on my nerves, bouncing around my peripheral vision like a boxer’s trainer before the title match, I told him to go for it.
“Katsuhira will demonstrate the skills of accuracy and distance.” Shingen continued, while the vassal who this morning had held the bets was already running a book on this show as well. I noted Sasuke was first in line, and hoped that this time, he was betting on me, not against.
Yuki trotted back to me and said, “forty paces for the small targets, going all the way back to 150 for the big ones in the back.” Not even 100 meters, then. The targets Aki had had me practicing on were closer to 150, so this shouldn’t be a challenge – I mean, it wasn’t like they were asking me to bullseye whomp rats from a T-16. However, I would have liked to have been warned before this whole thing started, because I was getting tired of warlords and spymasters making decisions about my life without consulting me, but…details.
“Thanks Yuki. Better go place your bet and get that no-dessert thing in writing.”
While everyone got in on the betting action, I stood there trying to shut the world out. It was easier to pretend I was back at The Mountain, staring at the targets set out in front of the pear trees and the stables that I would have to repair if I missed a shot. There wasn’t any wind today, which was one thing I wouldn’t have to worry about. There was, however, a caterpillar crawling across my toes, but having killed one life form this week, I wasn’t about to compound that by killing another, so I ignored it.
I progressively narrowed my focus until it was a straight line from me to the first target. Then, without turning my head I said to Shingen. “Ready.”
“Not so fast.”
What? What now?
With my tunnel vision destroyed, I turned to look at him. He smiled and there was a hint of mockery in that look that boded ill for me. He turned to Mai, who handed him a long strip of fabric. “You did say you could have made that shot blindfolded.”
I had said that, yes indeed. Note to self. Stay away from hyperbole when discussing your skills.
I have trained a lot blindfolded, as Aki’s got an entire Jedi Master type philosophy when it comes to archery. But this was an unfamiliar field, and I needed a warm-up. “Practice shots first, without the blindfold,” I bargained.
“Fair enough.”
I turned back to the targets and sent ten arrows in succession zipping toward the targets, trying to set muscle memory. I missed my second and seventh shots, but hit the rest. Ok. I could do this. I would prefer not to have to do this in front of an audience with less than thirty minutes warning, but… I can do this.
“Ready,” I said again, this time not moving an inch from where I was standing, keeping my mental focus trained on where I felt – no, where I knew - the targets were. The tranquil air settled my senses, keeping me detached from everything except my bow and the inner vision of the targets.
Then Shingen stepped behind me, nearly as close as a hug, his body radiating heat, to tie the blindfold around my head. His breath and voice glided into my ear asking if I could see. Then he tightened it for good measure, and… there it was, a jolt that I felt when those warm, calloused fingers accidentally brushed across my face.
Reverb.
Ok, hormones, you and I need to have a long talk about choices... and timing.
Full text of the chapter posted on Tumbr this time; this chapter, previous chapters and prologue available on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32812042?view_full_work=true
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