Story:

Nobunaga turned at the sound of the door and saw his two wives coming into the guest house together, and he spoke first in the cheerful, brisk voice of a man mid-packing.

"Ah, good—there you are. Check the inner room, would you? I don't want to leave anything behind; my second-favorite fan is missing and I suspect it fled into someone's luggage—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Something in their faces. The way they had come in—not teasing, not bickering, not racing each other to criticize his packing. The way they stood.

Together. Silent.

Nobunaga of the Oda, the Maou of the Sixth Heaven, the man who read battlefields at a glance and men's hearts faster than that—looked at the two women he loved, and read their intentions in the space of a single held breath.

The packing could wait.