Bloodlines

Burning Secrets

NOTE: Ayana is @jindalraekarkki's lovely OC! Thank you so much!

Generally speaking, requests for further information went through their intelligence officers, but the very last thing Ieyasu wanted to do was consult Mitsunari. He also was free to just wait and see what Mitsuhide turned up.

But he really wasn't feeling much like waiting. He'd waited for decades.

Fortunately, he wasn't at a loss for archives. Being so near the capital left him a thousand to choose from, so he did a bit of research and puttered into the parking lot of an unassuming office building the next day. It looked as if he might be the only one there. That was just fine with him.

Swinging the door open, he took a step inside and inhaled the dry scent of books. Row after row of old paperbacks stood to the right of him, a desk to the left. There, a short woman blinked at him. She was quite beautiful, if a little surprising–Ieyasu wasn't certain for a moment that she was human. With long, dark hair and bright green eyes, clad in a pastel pink jacket, she looked more like a living doll.

"Good morning." She was very quiet, too. Gently she set down her book, peering shyly over the counter at him. "Can I help you today?"

He cast a single glance at her name tag. Ayana. "Yeah. Looking for some newspaper sources from October 1993. Where can I find that?"

"Oh, um, that'd be something our archivist can get a hold of. If you wouldn't mind waiting a moment, I can fetch her."

"Sure."

She hopped off her chair and pattered into the back room, emerging only a minute later with another woman. Annoyingly she wore no nametag. Her short hair swung in loose waves around her jaw, a pair of glasses perched on her head.

"Hello. You wanted to look in our newspaper archive?"

"Yes. October 1993, specifically in Washington, D.C."

"I think we have some of those. Come with me and we'll take a look."

They passed through aisle after aisle of meticulously cataloged books, each row stacked high. Halogen lights peered dimly into the shadowy corners. Out of habit, Ieyasu surveyed everything. He'd never seen such extensive anti-fire measures–it seemed like a sprinkler lurked in every inch of ceiling.

"Afraid of fires?"

"Of course." She grinned at him. "We've got a bit of a top notch fire system. Three backup systems, each independent of each other, sprinklers for every nook and cranny, monthly checks on the smoke detectors... We can't risk losing our extensive collection."

Ieyasu hadn't really been all that interested, but it was good to know. He followed her far into the back corner. There, a series of grey filing cabinets lined the walls; in no time, she flipped through three drawers, producing several plastic covered copies of newspapers.

"If you need our copier, I suggest our low-impact one in the corner, to best preserve the paper and for the highest level of resolution. Do you need anything else?"

"This should be suitable. Thank you."

He took his copies back to his apartment and poured over them. Fortunately, the specifics were such that he didn't have to hunt too hard. Back in the Entertainment section, he found what he was looking for: details on the event at the Kennedy Center. Apparently it was some kind of fundraiser. Frustrated, he turned the page and found the photos.

And one of them was his mother.

Ieyasu paused for a long, long time, looking at her. The paper was in black and white, but even so he knew she was radiant. Her blonde hair, so much like his, was pulled back in a long braid. She held a wine glass and smiled broadly at the camera. Her long dress swept the floor, and to her right was another man smiling with her.