~~~

It wasn’t their usual stomping ground, or marching ground, but ever since the old community land had been uprooted by the humans for that nightmarish mega structure, they’d had no choice but to seek out newer pastures.

Which is why a team of forty-eight scouting ants was currently walking in eight lines of six towards the dipped turf on the very edge of the cliff that dropped abruptly to the watery abyss below.

Seems relatively stable, said the lead ant telepathically to his five lieutenants, tapping his leg against the dirt.

We could erect a barrier close to the edge, replied one of the five, to prevent any drunken tumbles or non-endorsed suicide plunges.

Excellent idea, number four.

And it’s unlikely the humans will build anything this close to the edge, added another ant, stepping forward.

That is true. For the most part. Yet there have been cases of-

Before the lead ant could lay out the rest of its counterpoint, a giant zori slid across the turf towards their group, smearing half instantly into the dirt and sending the rest of them spiralling down into the sea.

Re-adjusting himself and apologising to his superior nearby, the servant picked up the shōchū container he’d dropped on the ground and continued on towards the unlikely banquet table set up nearby.

‘And the fool just stood there,’ boomed the seated yet swaying figure of Lord Imagawa, a bottle of shōchū raised high in his left hand, ‘gawping at these seven barely competent assassins, waiting for someone else to do something.’

‘They ambushed us, daimyō,’ whispered the older man next to the wildly-bearded drunk, ‘as I have already explained countless times.’

‘Nonsense! Ambush is a word used by defeatists. The excuse for not understanding basic strategy. And at night time, too, the most obvious period for a smaller force to attack, when everyone’s drunk and fondling themselves. Gods on a fish tail, it’s only been done about a hundred thousand times throughout recorded history.’

The older man, who was in fact the uncle of the twenty-four year old Lord Imagawa, coughed but didn’t add anything else.

And neither did the other eleven around the slightly chilly and increasingly windswept cliffside table.

They just sat straight, laughed at the appropriate moments and sipped from their cups of shōchū.

And, in the cases of Tadachika and Atta Noe, who were seated beside each other, they both said absolutely nothing, while, inside their heads, playing out the dream-like scenario of the drunken, boastful Lord Imagawa sitting at a table with a katana-wielding Lord Shingen.

‘No, next time it will be very different,’ continued Lord Imagawa, punctuating his utterances with swigs from his shōchū bottle. ‘Very, very different. Victory for me and heads on a spike for those sneaky Owari wretches. Four heads, one spike, perfect. Assuming my military strategist here can switch his brain on. No, forget that last part, it won’t be necessary, I’ll simply expand the circle. Bring all the vassal clans, cross the river and deal with the threat once and for all. Think of it, all my allies, perhaps a regiment from Takeda too, the octopus banner of the Imagawa…maybe modify it with some dragon fangs or something, make it more intimidating…octopus is too vague, a mysterious creature…more like hugging with those big tentacle things than outright killing a man…nowhere near brutal enough…yes, fanged octopus banner, good idea.’

Lord Imagawa paused for an extra-long swig of shōchū, which got even longer once the alcohol stopped pouring out. Holding the bottle upside down, he grunted for a servant to come and refill, and the poor kid who came over almost got bowled over by a huge gust of wind swarming in suddenly from the cliff-edge.

‘Gods in a bear’s snatch, what is wrong with you? It’s a bit of fast air, that’s all. Nothing worth falling over for.’

The servant pulled himself up and bowed seven times, finally handing over the new bottle with a trembling hand.

‘Ah, don’t be afraid, I’m not going to punish you. I’m the people’s daimyō…unlike that tyrant over in Owari Province. Be thankful he’s not here asking you for more shōchū. Then you’d be in trouble.’

The servant bowed again then backed off…and got bowled over by another strong wall of fast air.

‘Lord Imagawa,’ interjected Tadachika, glancing at his empty cup and then at Atta Noe, who stared impassively back. ‘It is a little strange to be dining outside, in such disagreeable weather. Perhaps a swift relocation to the main hall at the top of the honmaru…’

‘To sit in stale air and weaken into Heian aristocrats? No, the elements are here for a reason, to sculpt us into warriors, to construct character and resolve. We shall stay and drink and be merry. And tomorrow, by gods, we will plot our revenge.’

‘If you insist,’ replied Tadachika, taking the bottle nearby and pouring out more shōchū.

Lord Imagawa nodded at his own line then scanned the table, doing a double-take when he reached Atta Noe. ‘Ah, it is you, isn’t it? The purple lady. I was certain I glimpsed you when I first sat down but…my thoughts were clouded, that damn ambush…but now that I see it is you, objectively you, Atta Noe…gods, I have to say, it is a great pity it was not Sunpu you were sent to. A great, great pity.’

Atta Noe dipped her head slightly, acknowledging the compliment.

‘You know, it was this young lady who suggested the change of leadership,’ said Imagawa, opening himself up to the ten other retainers and generals at the table. ‘The push for it at least. Because she recognised the strength in youth, its vitality. Is that not true, Atta Noe?’

‘I am not aware of how it has been described by Lord Shingen, but…yes, I did advise a firm approach.’

‘Ah, modesty, very admirable. Shingen truly has uncovered a gem. Which makes it odd to see you here of all places, playing shepherd to a tadpole like Lord Tadachika.’

‘Temporary guest is the phrase I was given,’ interrupted Tadachika, his eyes burning an invisible hole in his cup.

‘Guest? Ha, only a fool would waste such a talent as this young lady.’

‘Lady…is not entirely accurate.’

Imagawa either didn’t catch the barb or didn’t care as he swivelled a redundant inch and focused all his attention on the smoke demoness. ‘Tell me, is it true that you can refashion yourself into purple mist and glide effortlessly on the wind? I would very much like to see that, if it’s true…’

The words came out at the same time as another gust of wind swept in, so the other ten at the table pretended not to hear it, and the surrounding servants stopped just short of covering their ears with their hands.

‘It is quite a public place,’ replied Atta Noe, finally, putting a hand out across the table in the direction of Lord Imagawa. ‘Perhaps later, when we retire to the honmaru…’

‘Ah now, don’t be coy,’ said the daimyō, waving his shōchū cup at the surrounding servants. ‘They’ve heard the stories, we all have. And I’ve been in an onsen with that Atta Ka Yukio fellow, before you arrived on the scene…’

‘You bathed with him?’

‘In fact, the very first thing I asked him…those two boys there, always lurking nearby, what are they for? And he told me everything. Vessel or vassal or some other phrase…and then he told me about all your other types too.’

Atta Noe glanced at Tadachika’s cup, then, for the first time that night, at Gen’ichiro on the opposite side of the table. As usual, he was borderline useless, head down towards the rice bowls on the table, with the occasional glimpse out at the stormy sea-scape to offer token variety.

‘Oh, very well…if you’re that concerned about it.’ Lord Imagawa waved a hand and told the servants to turn around. Then added a threat that if any tried to peek or said anything about this then they’d be thrown into the sea.

Satisfied, he finished off his bottle of shōchū and spun back to Atta Noe. ‘Now, you’re all free. Mist, please.’

Hesitating more out of habit than desire, the purple demon took a few preparatory breaths and then held up her arm. To blank faces and stifled gasps, it disintegrated into particles of lilac dust, at first, swirling in spirals that suggested beauty of an ineffable kind - the type Shingen the Elder may have appreciated if he’d been present - then forming a dagger shape and cutting a diagonal line through the cup in front of Tadachika.

‘Ha, fantastic,’ yelled Lord Imagawa, clapping his hands and knocking over his own bottle.

‘A flourish just for you, daimyō,’ Atta Noe replied, reforming her arm into a human approximation and smirking at the two halves of the cup laying broken on the table.

‘A costly one,’ replied Tadachika, taking Atta Noe’s cup and pouring himself another shot of shōchū. ‘Your newly installed window will be removed at first light tomorrow. And you will craft me a new cup by your own hand, without the assistance of your purple tricks.’

‘She will do no such thing,’ boomed Lord Imagawa, leaning across the table and seizing the cup away from the startled retainer. ‘You…Tadachika…will treat your new advisor with respect. And what is this talk of a window? Where have you put her exactly?’

‘An old storage shack at the rear of the castle grounds,’ answered Atta Noe, with Tadachika still staring abjectly at the lost cup now being placed back into her hand.

‘Gods on a fisherman’s vest, what are you doing in there? That’s unacceptable. Sakai, what the hell are you playing at?’

‘You misunderstand, daimyō. It is the normal residence we use for temporary guests.’

‘For horses and lunatics more like. You will move her tomorrow, to a large room in either the ni-no-maru or honmaru. With a clear view of the sea. And no guards outside to make her feel uncomfortable. Understand?’

Tadachika stared at his own hand for a few seconds before etiquette finally fought its way back in to his brain, and he lifted his head to say, ‘yes, daimyō.’

‘Good, because I will check before I leave. And visit the room myself to see that it is of sufficient size.’ Lord Imagawa reached his hand under the table and groped at the air where he thought Atta Noe’s thigh should’ve been. Then smiled, when her knee appeared in that exact spot.

‘Lord Shingen is wise to fear you,’ she said, leaning in close to his neck, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. ‘You are strong and decisive, and much more desirable as an ally than…something not so close.’

‘Shingen fears me?’ spluttered Imagawa, little globs of spit and shōchū shooting out.

Atta Noe put her hand under the table and took hold of his, stroking the back of his fingers. ‘There is a difference between perception of strength and real strength and it is undeniable that you have the latter.’

‘He said he fears me, out loud?’ repeated Imagawa, pulling away his hand.

‘Not in words, exactly. However, I have a talent…for psychology, the meaning between the text.’

Lord Imagawa moved back, so abrupt and careless that he almost fell off his stool. Glancing around from retainer to retainer and, finally, to his tired-looking uncle, he cleared his throat and examined the nearly empty bottle of shōchū. ‘It seems to me…that for the sake of my future victory in Owari…and seeing the traitorous nature of their ranks…it is more important than ever to value our allies. Uncle…on our return to Sunpu, you will arrange a gift of salt and minerals…to be sent to Kai Province…and other places, of course. Tell our allies that standing with the Imagawa Clan is beneficial for all.’

The Uncle General postponed the confusion and nodded, probably just glad he wasn’t being insulted again for mistakes he didn’t even make. And the rest of the table went back to their shōchū.

Apart from Tadachika, who waited for another gust of wind before muttering curses inaudibly, and Atta Noe, who drew her hand back to her waist and let the thing she’d kept all the way from Kōfu slide down and out of her yukata sleeve.

‘To future victories,’ shouted Lord Imagawa, raising his bottle and then tilting it diagonally downwards to lap up the remaining few drops.

‘To future victories,’ echoed the rest of the table.