It was raining, the sound of an army clattering off the rooftop and echoing through the estate. Usually, Masamune was not one to mind the rain. He enjoyed it . . . he enjoyed going hog-wild in the yard trying to see how many drops he could cut with his blade. The wet never really bothered him. Kojuro usually scolded him for it, saying that Masamune would catch the death of him one day for standing out in bad weather.
As the dark day was wearing on he was beginning to grow more irritated and worried about the weather. It refused to relent and a certain presence was missing. What had once been a casual dismissal on his part over some stupid rain was turning into full blow annoyance, because he was starting to get the idea that she had wandered out into it like an idiot.
He spent a great deal of time wandering his hallways searching for signs of her presence, for the sounds of the koto, her sighs, or the sounds of her light footsteps. . . He searched for anything and was all the more irritated he couldn’t find a single hair of her. He held hope that she’d chosen to stay inside and was napping away somewhere, but he doubted it. She wasn’t really the type to waste an entire day sleeping. He was almost entirely convinced she was gone, but he had one last resort.
There was one person who would definitely know where she was, without a doubt. No sooner was Masamune approaching Katakura Kojuro, mouth barely open to ask his question, then Kojuro spoke without so much as looking up. “I do not know where she is. I am afraid I have not seen her since this morning.” Kojuro rubbed his nose and continued staring at the wide expanse of reports, papers, and manuals in front of him, forced inside by the heavy rain.
It was especially aggravating that Kojuro had answered without having even heard the question! Was Masamune truly that soft and predictable? He growled to himself, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “That wasn’t-“ he barked.
“I am sorry to have presumed my Lord.” Kojuro finally looked up, hardly wearing an apologetic expression on his face. Masamune knew better; Kojuro was smugly pleased that he had pinned Masamune exactly.
“Stop interrupting me,” Masamune snapped. He added, “ass” in a grumble. He continued to wonder what exactly he had done that made him such an obvious and predictable . . . mush. He simmered in embarrassment. To think he had been read so easily! He was supposed to be the unpredictable One-Eyed Dragon for crying out loud. “Thanks for . . . you know, whatever.” Masamune turned sharply on his heel and picked up right where he had left off.
Kojuro had no idea where Megohime was. He had no idea where Megohime was. The last place was somewhere in town. It would take him half an age to search the whole place for her, but he wasn’t going to leave her alone out in the rain. He started towards the entry way, grumbling to himself. “. . . gonna catch a cold . . . pain in my-“ Masamune crouched and began tying his sandals, only to hear the door slide open.
There she was, a kimono pulled over her head to protect her from the wet. Despite it, she was still soaked through, her kimono clinging against her arms and legs, trailing mud into the entry way. Masamune kicked off the one shoe he had managed to put on and stomped over to her and roughly cupped her cheeks in his large hands. Her skin was damp and cool to his touch. He glowered into her face, his voice coming out harsher than he had meant. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “Do you know how it feels not to-“ he cut himself off, burning again with embarrassment. Instead he snorted and pulled the soaked kimono off her hair.
“I am sorry, my Lord,” she muttered. Megohime looked down at her feet and fidgeted, and it was at that point that he realized she was carrying something quite large, folded into her kimono. His brow furrowed and whatever it was wriggled. He jabbed it, scowling as it wriggled further. His actions made Mego step back and reaffirm her grip.
“What is that?” he pressed. “Mego . . . what in the world did you find in town?” Masamune sighed and scratched his head. He could already sense that it was trouble. Masamune found himself smiling and sighing, “I promise I’m not going to be mad at what you dragged in . . . don’t look so distressed.”
“A cat . . . my lord.” Megohime carefully opened her kimono and shuffled the rather large mottled white and orange cat. “I found her in town . . . and I thought that it would be sad to leave her.” Megohime had succeeded in keeping the animal dry under her clothing. She smiled, scratching the cat under her chin. That made it all the more difficult to tell her that he didn’t want it and that it would be best to simply let it back outside. Her heart looked so . . . set on it.
“That’s a pretty fat cat,” Masamune drawled. He reached out to touch it, only to have the animal let out a low growl at him, her tail flicking back and forth. Okay, so the animal didn’t like him.
“I’m sorry,” Megohime muttered, working nervously to calm the cat back down. The cat responded quite happily to her touch, the growl fading into a rumbling purr. “She seemed like such a sweet cat . . .”
“Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t her fault if a cat didn’t like her. “But you know we can’t really keep a cat.” Masamune snorted a little, continuing to watch the animal. It looks foolishly content in her arms, not seeming to mind how damp she was. “We’re busy enough as it is without a pet to worry about . . .” Masamune trailed off, watching as Megohime frowned all the more. He didn’t want a cat . . . it’d end up sleeping on his face. Cats were suspicious. You couldn’t trust a cat like you could trust a horse. “Look at her, she probably belongs to someone . . . gluttonous little-“
“She’s not fat,” she said. Megohime’s quiet voice rose sharply, cutting him off. “She’s pregnant and . . . I don’t think she belongs to anyone. She looked so lonely and I . . . I couldn’t help myself.” Megohime pressed her cheek against the cat’s head, looking so forlorn that he reached for her. “I’m sorry . . . I should not have brought it to the house without your permission. It was a foolish mistake . . . I will-“
Masamune clicked his tongue. “Hey now . . .” This woman was really going to get the best of him. He pressed his hands against her cheeks once more and pressed her eyes up towards his face. “This is all on you. You’re going to have to take responsibility, you see? And find the kittens homes when they’re born. We’re not going to fill this place with cats, you understand? You can keep one.” Masamune glowered at her. “Just one, got it?”
Megohime nodded quickly. “Yes . . . yes I understand!” Her face brightened and she struggled to keep her face straight, the corners of her mouth twitching up into a gentle smile. “I promise to do as you’ve asked of me, Masamune.”
He had definitely gone very soft for this person. “It’s not allowed in our room,” he said sternly. “I’m not going to be constantly smothered by a cat.” Masamune stared fiercely at the animal, scowling as she blinked slowly at him. “Now . . . I’m going to get something to dry you off with. Take off your wet socks and wait here for me.”
“Yes, of course,” she said again. Mego bent her knees and gently set the cat down on her feet, and the cat sniffed lazily at Masamune’s leg. She straightened once more, dipping her head towards him. “Thank you again, Masamune.”
“No problem . . .” He took her head and roughly banged his forehead against hers, sighing against her. He could still faintly make out the smell of her hair, even though it had mostly been washed away by the rain. “You pain . . . don’t go running off without telling me. You had me worried. I’m glad you’re only what the cat dragged in today.” Her tiny hands pressed again her shirt and buried into the fabric. He gave her hands a pat before he jerked back and turned quickly on his heels, scampering off to get something to dry her off with.
