Read Online Heart of the Ronin by Travis Heermann - Free Book Online
Authors: Travis Heermann
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handmaid, the older woman always wore too much perfume.
Kazuko peered outside through the flap, widening the gap for a better view. The road was hemmed on both sides by towering forest, and the sun shining down through the leaves seemed to give everything a rich, greenish tinge. Spots of sunlight dappled the puddles in the road like scattered golden coins. Through her small gap, she saw one of her samurai bodyguards, walking just ahead of the carriage off to the side. He walked straight and tall, stoic and serious, alert. He was an imposing, handsome figure, and she admired the certainty of his stride, the confidence of his gait, even when he was soaked to the skin. His once proud topknot was now limp and disheveled. She watched him for a while, admiring the smooth movements of his body, the pleasant shape of his face, and his fierce dark eyes. He was so much more of a man than Yuta had been.
Yuta, a servant in the troop barracks, had been her first love, her dangerous little secret. Her father would have been furious if he knew she had let the boy touch her. Yuta was lithe and beautiful, and his kisses had been so tender. She found herself comparing this strong-looking samurai to Yuta, and there was little for comparison. This man was warrior. Yuta was a court poet in peasant’s clothes. His cleverness had allowed him to slip surreptitious messages to her, in his clumsy, ill-educated, peasant’s handwriting, into her father’s house. Where Yuta had learned to write, she had no idea. His audacity had shocked her at first, but his sweet words had gained her attention, and then warmed her heart. His words had opened the box of her desires, ones she did not know she had. She found herself daydreaming about trying her secret knowledge with him, trying the schooling she had received about how to pleasure a husband. They had found a way to be together once, hidden in the stable one afternoon, but she was too nervous and frightened about being discovered to offer more than a few wonderfully fervent kisses. Part of her wanted to know the reality of what it was to be with a man, but part of her feared it terribly. Men were such coarse creatures, most of them.
One day, she ceased to hear from him. His messages came no more. She had looked for him around the grounds of her father’s estate, but he could not be found. She could hardly inquire after him without raising suspicion. The first few weeks she spent fearing something terrible had happened to him, wondering, wondering, wondering. She tried to ask the servants what had happened to him, but discreetly. All of them claimed to know nothing, but how could that be? Eventually, she had given up, not knowing what else to do. She had missed him terribly for a while, but that had been six months ago. These days, she thought about him wistfully, with a pang of fear that something bad had happened to him, but the pain had passed. If something terrible had happened to him, she would have heard about it. Perhaps his family had been moved to a different part of her father’s lands. Perhaps he had left his family to strike off on his own. Perhaps he had fallen in love with another girl, a peasant girl, and ran away to be married.
She found herself studying this samurai again, her bodyguard, and imagined for a moment that she had received some poems of love from him. Now, would not that be exciting!
Then Hatsumi’s voice returned her attention to the cramped interior of the carriage. “Are we home yet? I must have been napping.” Hatsumi yawned widely, exposing her prominent teeth without covering her mouth. Such an impolite gesture would have been unacceptable in public, but here in the confines of their small palanquin and the comfort of their long friendship, Kazuko did not begrudge her.
Kazuko smiled. “Of course we’re not home yet. We have several more days of travel.”
“Oh, I know that. But this traveling is so dreary and frightfully boring. We just walk and walk and
Kazuko peered outside through the flap, widening the gap for a better view. The road was hemmed on both sides by towering forest, and the sun shining down through the leaves seemed to give everything a rich, greenish tinge. Spots of sunlight dappled the puddles in the road like scattered golden coins. Through her small gap, she saw one of her samurai bodyguards, walking just ahead of the carriage off to the side. He walked straight and tall, stoic and serious, alert. He was an imposing, handsome figure, and she admired the certainty of his stride, the confidence of his gait, even when he was soaked to the skin. His once proud topknot was now limp and disheveled. She watched him for a while, admiring the smooth movements of his body, the pleasant shape of his face, and his fierce dark eyes. He was so much more of a man than Yuta had been.
Yuta, a servant in the troop barracks, had been her first love, her dangerous little secret. Her father would have been furious if he knew she had let the boy touch her. Yuta was lithe and beautiful, and his kisses had been so tender. She found herself comparing this strong-looking samurai to Yuta, and there was little for comparison. This man was warrior. Yuta was a court poet in peasant’s clothes. His cleverness had allowed him to slip surreptitious messages to her, in his clumsy, ill-educated, peasant’s handwriting, into her father’s house. Where Yuta had learned to write, she had no idea. His audacity had shocked her at first, but his sweet words had gained her attention, and then warmed her heart. His words had opened the box of her desires, ones she did not know she had. She found herself daydreaming about trying her secret knowledge with him, trying the schooling she had received about how to pleasure a husband. They had found a way to be together once, hidden in the stable one afternoon, but she was too nervous and frightened about being discovered to offer more than a few wonderfully fervent kisses. Part of her wanted to know the reality of what it was to be with a man, but part of her feared it terribly. Men were such coarse creatures, most of them.
One day, she ceased to hear from him. His messages came no more. She had looked for him around the grounds of her father’s estate, but he could not be found. She could hardly inquire after him without raising suspicion. The first few weeks she spent fearing something terrible had happened to him, wondering, wondering, wondering. She tried to ask the servants what had happened to him, but discreetly. All of them claimed to know nothing, but how could that be? Eventually, she had given up, not knowing what else to do. She had missed him terribly for a while, but that had been six months ago. These days, she thought about him wistfully, with a pang of fear that something bad had happened to him, but the pain had passed. If something terrible had happened to him, she would have heard about it. Perhaps his family had been moved to a different part of her father’s lands. Perhaps he had left his family to strike off on his own. Perhaps he had fallen in love with another girl, a peasant girl, and ran away to be married.
She found herself studying this samurai again, her bodyguard, and imagined for a moment that she had received some poems of love from him. Now, would not that be exciting!
Then Hatsumi’s voice returned her attention to the cramped interior of the carriage. “Are we home yet? I must have been napping.” Hatsumi yawned widely, exposing her prominent teeth without covering her mouth. Such an impolite gesture would have been unacceptable in public, but here in the confines of their small palanquin and the comfort of their long friendship, Kazuko did not begrudge her.
Kazuko smiled. “Of course we’re not home yet. We have several more days of travel.”
“Oh, I know that. But this traveling is so dreary and frightfully boring. We just walk and walk and
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