Page 10

Chapter 10

Yoshi

F ather and Takeo were proud, strutting around the castle like a pair of overfed peacocks, drinking and shouting to all who would listen about the grand adventure the Daimyo ’s son was about to undertake. As nervous as I was, they were even more exuberant.

Mother remained unnervingly quiet, tending to my chambers as any servant might, straightening my perfectly made bedroll, fidgeting with artwork on my walls, choosing then discarding then choosing again what I might wear on the first day of the Trial. No servant dared interrupt. I was barely brave enough to remain in the room with her, though I knew she wanted me close. It was why she hovered, a terrified parent seeking comfort in the proximity of her child.

“I’ll be all right, Mother,” I said, not truly believing my own words but knowing it was what she wanted to hear.

She smiled, not one that spoke of inner joy or the peace that came with perfect harmony; no, her lips were drawn tight, and her teeth remained well cloaked. No emotion reached her eyes, save an occasional twitch that looked like a brittle dam holding back a restless river.

“Of course, you will,” she said.

I didn’t believe her words either.

She stepped across my room to grip my shoulders with both hands. “My Yoshi, my beautiful boy.”

Only then did a tear slip free.

I couldn’t remember seeing her cry before, not even when her own mother had answered Shinigami’s call to eternal slumber. Yet here, in my room, as she held my shoulders, her own body shook, and she fell forward into my arms.

“I will be all right, Mother,” I whispered, trying to breathe belief into us both.

A throat clearing at the sliding door I’d left open brough both of our heads around, though Mother showed no sign of letting go of my shoulders. Kaneko stood there, changed into his casual sparring clothes, a lopsided grin on his beautiful face.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Kita- sama ,” he said, quickly bowing to Mother.

She returned the gesture, reluctantly pulling away from our embrace. “You are always welcome, Kaneko- san . I was just . . . I have other things to . . .”

She scurried out, I suspect, fearing whatever might slip past her lips had she not fled.

Kaneko cocked a brow.

I shrugged. “The Trial has us all on edge, I guess.”

“Even you, great Daimyo ’s son?”

His smirk could normally bring a smile to my lips, but Mother’s tears and our impending doom had stolen any mirth left in me.

Kaneko stepped inside. “Get changed. Let’s go down to the docks and spar. There’s no storm, so you don’t have to worry about me saving your life again, though you still owe me for that one.”

Bastard.

I grinned despite myself.

“Fine. But I won’t go easy on you today. I need to take my frustrations out on someone before tomorrow.”

He snorted. “I would expect no less, Yoshi- kun .”

-kun ?

Had he just inferred I was a child? Was it an insult? Or had he used the honorific in affectionate terms, calling me his . . .

“Easy there,” he said, a nervous laugh tumbling out as his eyes darted away. “I was insulting you. Take it in the spirit of disrespect it was meant, all right?”

“I really hate you, you know.” I shook my head and laughed, unable to remain somber around my roguish friend.

“No, you don’t, and we both know it,” he jested, though I thought something other than humor filled his eyes with those words.

“When I am Daimyo , you will muck out my stables. My horses will love your shitty presence.”

Kaneko chuckled. “Talk like that, and I might not let you live long enough to become great lord of the Anzu.”

My eyes widened, and Kaneko’s fell.

“Yoshi- sama , forgive me. I—”

I stepped forward, my heart leading my feet, and gripped Kaneko by his shoulders as Mother had done to me only moments before. Our eyes met, and an odd lump formed in my throat. Kaneko swallowed hard and began to look away, but my voice held him fixed.

“Never call me - sama again, I beg you, at least, not when we are alone. Kaneko, you are more than any friend could be, and you have never been my lesser. You . . . you are my . . . my brother in every way that matters, in every way beyond the blood of our fathers.”

My voice cracked as I spoke, but my gaze remained firm, and Kaneko did not look away. Something softened in him. I saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way his shoulders relaxed beneath my fingers. His breathing steadied, and he blinked rapidly several times.

Without thinking, I let my hand lift from his shoulder and trace the line of his jaw. Stubble pricked my fingers. For the briefest moment, I swore he leaned into my touch, then he seemed to remember himself and pulled back quickly.

“We, uh, should get to the dock while it’s still light out. The Trials start at daybreak, and we’ll both want a good night’s rest.”

I nodded, holding the hand that had stroked his cheek with my other, like cradling a burn after touching a hot stove. The way he looked away and stepped so quickly from my room made my heart feel as singed as my fingers.

Had I misunderstood? Misread the signals?

Was Kaneko truly my brother but nothing more?

I wanted to howl like a wolf spotting the moon in its fullness, but Kaneko—and the rest of our household—remained within earshot of my anguish. Why did being a teenage boy have to be so confusing? I tried to be a good, honorable son, to obey Father and follow in his footsteps. I revered Mother, heeding her advice and counsel, never causing her own heart to ache. I wasn’t the best fighter in Tooi, but my mind was sharp, and I would grow into a compassionate, powerful leader. The people respected me, despite my youth. I saw it in their eyes when they greeted me.

I was a good man.

I was, at least, growing into one.

Amaterasu, goddess of Light and Wisdom, why then did life feel so out of control? Why did everything I truly want feel just beyond my reach?

Oh, goddess.

Did I want Kaneko? Was that what I felt when I touched his cheek? Was that why my heart burned so?

Samurai who formed shudō , an intimate relationship between two men, were not merely respected; they were revered. The common folk did not always view their own with the same regard, but there was no outright hostility toward men loving other men. The histories taught of distant lands where this was not so, where such relationships were frowned upon or barred by law, some men earning lashings or worse for their affection. Enmity for such love seemed more foreign than a land without seas and shores.

And yet, to admire another who might rebuff such fondness was . . . terrifying . . . far more so than any Trial or judgement the Emperor might pronounce.

So said my teenage mind as Kaneko walked away, vanishing around the corner of a hallway that led out of the castle.

I sighed.

What had I done?

Kaneko hadn’t exactly run from the room. In fact, he appeared to enjoy my touch.

Why, then, had he jerked away? Why had his gaze hardened so quickly?

Why was I standing in my room, still not dressed in sparring clothes, talking to myself about a boy who wasn’t even standing before me?

“Yoshi, you’re such an idiot,” I mumbled. “The Emperor’s dragon is talking in your head, and there’s a gods’ blessed Trial starting tomorrow in which said dragon might decide to make sushi out of your scrawny body. Why in the ever-loving fuck are you pining after a boy?”

Oh, holy light. I was pining.

I was actually pining after Kaneko.

I did want him.

“Yoshi!” Kaneko’s voice was a gong in the wind. “Are you coming or not?”

“Be right there,” I called, desperate to shake my head free of its musing and beat the stuffing out of anything that came within striking distance of my bokken .