Author's Note:

Sarutobi Sasuke, Ikemen Sengoku style: Astrophysicist, Ninja, BFF, always there when you need him most.
I've been a fan of this character from the first time I picked up the game, but he doesn't yet have an English route. Consequently, all I can do is speculate.

His greatest opponent: butterflies. Why? Chaos theory.

Written for Aiko on tumblr. And myself.

~ Impracticaldemon

Do You Have a Fever?

"Shitsurei shimasu."(1)

Only one person ever requested admittance to my room from the ceiling. The fact that the visitor was also very polite about it was just extra confirmation.

"Hi Sasuke, come on in—or down! It's good to see you." There was a moment's silence, but none of the ceiling panels moved. I squinted upward through the grey gloom that passed for light just before dawn. "That is—am I going to see you?"

"Yes."

Another few seconds passed, and my attempt to ask for further clarification turned into an uncontrollable sneeze. I've always hated summer colds, but having a cold is even less fun when it's 1582 and there's no ibuprofen, no lotion-infused tissues, and no knock-you-out-until-you're-better fake-cherry-flavour syrup. To be fair, Ieyasu—meaning the Tokugawa Ieyasu—had managed pretty well. His throat lozenges were first rate, although I got a little more careful after I asked about the ingredients. Unfortunately, opium was still cutting-edge medical technology in sixteenth century Japan.

The usual ceiling panel finally edged aside, and my favourite astrophysicist-ninja dropped silently into the room. He poured me a glass of water while I finished sneezing, and handed it over as soon as I was done. It was kind of him, but the fact that he wouldn't meet my eyes—or say anything—made me wonder.

"Um, Sasuke?" I coughed, and hastily swallowed some more water.

"I apologize, Chieko. I am aware that one should be more conversational when visiting a sick friend. However—" he cleared his throat, and I was tempted to offer him a cough drop. Then again, if he found out that it was from Ieyasu, he'd probably try to keep it in a special souvenir box until it dissolved into a puddle of opium-laced honey and herbs.

Sasuke tried again, still not meeting my eyes, or even looking in my general direction. "I assure you that I did not wish to be rude. However, I have been evaluating alternate methods for informing you of a slight, ah, wardrobe malfunction. I would have preferred not to embarrass you, but I am forced to employ the direct approach."

Naturally, I missed most of his last sentence, having quickly looked down to see what was wrong. As it turned out, my soft nightrobe had come partially loose from its ties—probably during the coughing fit that had woken me earlier—and there was a very noticeable gap down the center of my chest. The light shawl around my shoulders did little to cover the view. On top of that, perspiration had made the fabric cling to the little that was still semi-modestly concealed.

I could feel myself blushing as I quickly corrected the 'wardrobe malfunction'. Sasuke had tactfully gone to stand beside the window, with his back to me. While I put things right, and arranged the shawl more strategically, I promised myself to give up Ieyasu's cold remedies altogether. Only drugs could account for inviting Sasuke into the room without at least checking that I was decent. I snuck a quick peek in the small hand-mirror I had nearby, and concluded that while I was no longer a candidate for page three of a tabloid, I wasn't going to win any prizes for 'what to wear when a cute guy drops in from the ceiling'. Then again—but I put a quick lock on those thoughts right away. Sasuke wasn't your average guy, and I was pretty sure he didn't realize he was cute.

"All set, Sasuke, sorry about that—I'm a little out of it with this cold." And possibly the opium. Personally, I'm blaming Ieyasu's happy candies. I kept it casual, figuring that would alleviate our mutual embarrassment. It's not like there'd been that much on display, more that context was important with clothes, and this was Sengoku Japan, and I was sitting in bed. I'll bet he's nice to cuddle with, suggested some part of my—probably drugged—brain. For obvious reasons, that particular 'little voice' sounded a lot like Mitsuhide to me these days. Shut up Akechi, I snarled at it, not helping.

Sasuke had turned around, and was looking at me very strangely.

"Did you just tell Akechi Mitsuhide to shut up?" he asked, his face as politely neutral as usual, but still—somehow—faintly puzzled. "Do you have a fever, Chieko?"

He looked very serious—or at least, that's what he managed to convey. Without warning, he put his left wrist to my forehead.

I stifled a yelp of surprise, and tried not to lean farther against his hand. My body, possibly goaded on by the Mitsuhide-voice, or just fatigue, disobeyed me. It was a nice hand, I thought, sinewy and a little calloused, but much stronger than it looked. I guess you had to be pretty strong to be a first-class ninja. I wondered vaguely—not for the first time—how he'd managed to make the transition from graduate student in physics to Uesugi Kenshin's top shinobi. Maybe he'd already been training just in case he ever made it to the Sengoku?

"I don't think you have a fever," Sasuke told me, his—really very attractive, don't you think? Shut UP or I'll… fine, they're pretty nice—brown eyes surveying me closely, "but it's hard to tell. You do appear to be flushed, and rather shaky, both indicators of a febrile condition." He blinked at me from behind his glasses, then put both hands lightly on my shoulders to support me while he sat down. I was impressed by how gracefully he could attain a cross-legged position without allowing me to wobble.

Gracefully? Really? All he did was sit down. And don't pretend you didn't appreciate his legs and—

"I have a headache," I said aloud, to drown out my own personal Mitsuhide. "But I wasn't feeling hot until"—the rational part of my brain suddenly fused in panic, aware a few moments too late that I was about to say something that could be misconstrued.

Sasuke waited politely for me to finish, then frowned a little.

"Chieko, did the castle pharmacist give you anything for your cold? I don't mean to be in any way less than complimentary—because I must agree with Lord Shingen that it is counter-productive to be ungracious when a lovely lady—excuse me, those were his words, I'm afraid—is already feeling under the weather—however, your pupils are a little dilated and—"

"Opium," I said firmly. I'd lost track of his sentence, but I'd gotten the gist.

"Oh."

"I guess there's no ibuprofen in the sixteenth century, huh?"

I'd been expecting the ninja-physicist version of "ha ha—no," but Sasuke suddenly looked visibly upset. It was unusual for his face to display such obvious emotion. His eyes slid sideways, and despite the uncertain lighting, I thought he was blushing.

"Sorry, Chieko. This is my fault."

I looked at him uncertainly. "It's your fault that they treat pain with alcohol and opium in Sengoku Japan?"

"Er, not that. Although it's been fascinating to find out that medical science is more advanced during this period than I'd expected." His eyes shifted back to me. "Which has been quite fortunate for me, of course. But that wasn't what I meant to tell you."

"Alright." I could feel fatigue creeping through my limbs, but somehow preferred to have Sasuke with me—even at literal arm's-length—than be alone in my futon. So? Maybe you could change that? NO! That's not what I meant! It's just nice to have a friend around when you're sick! A distinctly Cheshire-cat smile below two gleaming yellow eyes seemed to float before me, and I instinctively batted at it, knocking Sasuke's glasses askew. "Argh! Sorry, Sasuke!"

"Um, no, that's fine. No harm done. But if I may ask—" he removed a hand from my shoulder in order to fix his glasses, which seemed to take him longer than usual—"has Lord Mitsuhide been bothering you? You keep mentioning him."

I did? "No, no—well, not exactly."

"Lord Shingen says that—"

Before Sasuke could lose me in another three- or four-part sentence, I gave in to my inner Mitsuhide, and genuine fatigue, and let my head and body fall toward Sasuke. As expected, he moved immediately to catch me, ninja reflexes making up for the fact that he'd been looking away again when I toppled. I found myself rather comfortably cradled against his chest, with his arms around me and one hand gently supporting my head. He was warmer than I'd expected.

"…Sorry," I mumbled, not very sincerely. My head still hurt, and I was probably going to cough again sooner or later, but this was nice. Somewhere under the ninja tunic was a solid, well-muscled chest. Always a good thing in a physicist. You never knew when you'd need to wrestle with an interdimensional wormhole. Or be there for a sick friend.

"…Chieko?" His arms didn't move, which was encouraging. He obviously wasn't repelled by my weird behaviour. In fact, I could've sworn that his hand carefully brushed my cheek. I didn't feel inclined to go anywhere, so I let my eyes close all the way and snuggled closer. My inner voice remained silent, but I could tell it was smirking at me.

Sasuke appeared to at a loss as to what to do next, but somebody—probably Lord Shingen, based on what I'd heard so far—had obviously warned him not to jostle a sick woman who wasn't at her best. I silently thanked the absent enemy warlord for his assistance. And his absence. Because having Shingen in my room would quickly result in a lot of very sharp blades being much too close for comfort. A thought tickled at my sleepy brain. Sasuke, being a genius, put it into words.

"Chieko, I have to go soon. Lord Mitsuhide is quite adept at finding and disposing of enemy spies. Moreover, if I were found here, the Oda warlords might suspect you of betraying them, and turn against you. They might not understand that you are—that we are—that we're just friends with a common background. I don't want to compromise your safety. …Or fail in my duty to my employer, or course."

"I understand," I told him—or at least that's what I tried to say. It came out a little garbled. Plus, I may have been slightly put out by the bit about "just friends." Even though it was true. And just fine. I mean, how well do we even know each other, right? I caught a glimpse of mocking yellow eyes and a hint of white hair, but no audio.

I felt warm breath against the top of my hair—it was very pleasant—and then something that might have been a very soft, feather-light kiss. My brain said it was accidental contact; my heart started to pick up speed. Unfortunately, Sasuke's voice didn't give away what he was thinking.

"I wouldn't have been so late, if it hadn't been for the—er, you know."

I tried to shake my head, but couldn't move. "No idea. The what?"

"...It doesn't matter. The point is that as soon as I heard you were sick, I requested vacation leave and came immediately. Hopefully, Lord Kenshin is being delayed by Yukimura and Lord Shingen. Lord Kenshin doesn't quite understand the concept of a vacation yet, although I'm working on him."

"You came all the way to Azuchi because you heard I was sick?" I was impressed with their spy system, but more interested in the personal aspects.

"…Yes. You see, I have a package of ibuprofen with me. It's four years old, but the seal's unbroken and I suspect it's fine. That's why I apologized. If I'd gotten here sooner, you might not have needed to take opiate-based medication. Or at least I could have warned you."

"That's okay," I said, generously. "I mean, come on, Sasuke, you just came all the way to Azuchi and snuck into an enemy castle to bring me Advil. That's pretty heroic in my book, even if you didn't get here as fast as you wanted. I'm sure the poppy-juice will wear off soon enough, so no harm done." Except for my wardrobe malfunction, and the way I kind of not-so-accidentally fell over against you. And having Mitsuhide in my head. The idea that my inner demons—or whatever—now manifested as Mitsuhide was a little disturbing. Then again, it would explain his tendency to read my mind.

Sasuke was silent. He seemed to be taking the whole 'Chieko on opium' thing a bit too hard. I decided to play my trump card, even though it might open up a can of worms. …Okay, that wasn't a sentence I ever wanted to share with anyone, especially Sasuke, but I knew what I meant and ignored the snicker from ol' yellow eyes. I turned a bit so that I wouldn't be speaking into my—that is the—ninja's tunic.

"I know you're worried about me, and I really appreciate it, but you should know that Ieyasu created and compounded both medicines—the happy candies and the syrup—and he's considered one of the best pharmacists around."

Sure enough, Sasuke shifted in surprise, dislodging me slightly as he straightened his back and scanned the room as though his idol, Tokugawa Ieyasu, might be hiding behind my kimono rack. I expected him to use the opportunity to pry me loose and get me tucked into bed, but instead he pulled me back against his chest as soon as he noticed that I'd slipped. Naturally, I immediately wondered if I could read something into that. And did I want to? The strange drowsy-giddy feeling was wearing off, and I was starting to feel self-conscious.

"You know that I have the greatest respect for Lord Ieyasu," Sasuke said quietly. This was an understatement, but I was distracted by the fact that his voice wasn't far from my ear, and for some reason that thought was making me warmer than ever; I could feel my blush reaching my ears. Sasuke seemed oblivious. "However, I would feel very badly if you came to harm here, and the opiate medicines of this time are not safe. In fact, they remained largely unsafe right up to modern times, and even in our era they are highly addictive."

I was touched by the genuine concern in his voice, but also becoming increasingly aware that my upper body was practically glued against his, and I was only wearing a thin summer robe as nightwear. Sneezing on him would probably break the mood—if there was a mood—but other than a slight headache, I seemed to have improved quite a bit over the last half-hour. I wasn't sure whether to chalk it up to Ieyasu's medicine, or to the power of Sasuke's kindness. He was always kind, in an awkward, Sengoku-physics-ninja-geek sort of way.

"So, I guess I should take the good stuff, and let you get on your way." I sighed. Then I realized that I was sighing, and sat up a little straighter. Sasuke's arms immediately fell away, and when I glanced up at him, his face was as blank as usual. I thought there was a touch of red in his cheeks, but he immediately got busy fetching me more water and then handing over the pills.

"You can keep the package. We're going back in just a few weeks, and there aren't that many in there anyway." His tone was calm and uninflected, but something made me decide not to argue. After all, he'd refused to use even one throughout the four years he'd been here, and he must have gone through his share of pain and, presumably, illness.

Having dutifully taken the ibuprofen, I handed the water mug back to Sasuke. I tried not to show how lonely I suddenly felt, as he made sure that his gear was secure and cracked open the window screen to survey his exit path.

"So—why were you so late? You never did explain. I mean, now that I'm more with it, I can tell that you pushed it pretty close to the limit." It was true—the first rays of sunlight could be seen over the horizon, and Sasuke usually arrived and left when it was fully dark.

"Oh… that. I'll explain another time, okay? Stay safe, Chieko. I'll come visit next time I'm near Azuchi."

"Sure. Sounds good. And thank you! You're the best friend a time-travelling fashion designer could have." I smiled brightly at him, wanting him to go before he got caught, but also wishing he could stay.

"You're most welcome," Sasuke replied, swinging himself lightly to the very narrow window sill. Then he paused, muttered something inaudible, and hopped back down beside me. "One moment—your hair has caught on something." Very gently, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. As far as I could tell, it hadn't been caught on anything, but I wasn't going to object. His fingers lingered on my ear for a few extra seconds—deliberately, I thought—and then he murmured a quick goodbye and was out through the window before I could respond.

I remained sitting up in bed sipping water for several minutes before my racing pulse calmed down enough to contemplate sleep. Just as I was making myself comfortable, somebody announced themselves at the door, and entered without waiting for my leave.

"Ohayo, Chieko," Mitsuhide said brightly, surveying the room with a slightly mischievous air. His gaze lingered on the open screen, which I probably should have thought to close. "I'm surprised you have that open, given how unwell you've been. How are you?"

"Good morning to you too, Mitsuhide. I'm feeling a lot better this morning, thank you. Another day should see me completely recovered."

Nobunaga's left-hand man smiled at me. It was the smile of a man who knew just how to make it hurt, whether in fun or in deadly earnest. I tensed, waiting for the blow to fall. Mitsuhide didn't disappoint.

"I will let the others know that you've had a restful night." His yellow eyes shone a little in the dim room, as he gently added: "The power of young love never ceases to amaze, does it?"

[END]