I looked back at the training ring where my classmates stood frozen,bokkenstill in hand, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. Daichi’s mouth was actually hanging open—I’d never seen him so undone.
“I—” I started to protest, but Haru stepped forward smoothly.
“Master,” the Prince said with a perfect bow, “surely Anzu Yoshi-sanshould be permitted to tend to his wounded friend? They clearly have history, and the man did arrive under my protection.”
The master’s jaw worked, trapped between protocol and royal request.
“Let the boy go.” Master Giichi appeared as if from nowhere. “Bonds forged before temple walls often matter more than those made within.” His eyes found mine, and something knowing flickered there. “See to your friend, Yoshi-san. Report for evening meditation.”
“Thank you, Master.” I bowed deeply, struggling with releasing Kaneko long enough to do so.
Master Giichi turned to Haru, bowing precisely—a respectful depth but not subservient. “Your Highness, we thank the heavens for your survival, though your journey was clearly harrowing. How many were lost?”
“Too many,” Haru said quietly. “Good men died for nothing more than traveling with a spare prince.”
“No death in service is meaningless, and no member of the Divine House is a spare, regardless of how the boy inside thekimonomight feel,” Giichi replied, his voice so quiet only we could hear. Then he spoke clearly for all, “But we will mourn them properly on the morrow. You will wish to convene a council?”
“Yes. But”—Haru gestured at his blood-stained clothes—“perhaps after we have cleaned up.”
“Of course. Teshi-san,” Giichi called to my nervous classmate, “show His Highness and his companion to their quarters.”
Teshi scrambled forward, bowing so low he nearly fell over. “Of course, Master. Your Highness, honored Samurai, if you would follow me, I will show you to your respective rooms—”
“One room will suffice,” Haru said casually.
The silence that followed thundered across the yard.
“I . . . one room?” Teshi squeaked.
“Oneroom,” Haru confirmed, taking Esumi’s hand. “The time for pretending is over. The Empire burns while we play games of propriety. I am done with it.”
I thought Teshi might faint right there in front of Haru, Master Giichi, and all the gods.
Several monks looked like they were considering it.
Even Giichi’s eternal calm cracked slightly.
Esumi, of course, simply grinned and raised Haru’s hand to his lips. “Does the room have a nice view? I have standards about accommodations.”
“I—yes? Maybe? I don’t—” Teshi looked desperately at Master Giichi.
“Show them to the lotus chamber,” the abbot said after a pause that felt like eternity. “It has . . . adequate space and a window.”
As Teshi led the Prince away, Haru called back, “We meet in one hour, Master Giichi. That should allow time to tend the wounded and recall your Samurai. We have much to discuss.”
The moment they were gone, the courtyard erupted in whispers.
A prince and his Samurai lover, openly together? It was unprecedented. Scandalous. Many Samurai took their students or mentees as lovers. No one blinked at such bonding.
But a prince? A member of the DivineHan?
All I could think was how Haru’s spectacle made my reunion with Kaneko look positively tame by comparison.
Then another thought struck.
Perhaps that was Haru’s intention.
Was the Prince so calculating, sothoughtful, that he would use his relationship with Esumi to draw attention away from the scene we had just created? To give us a moment’s hard-earned peace at the expense of his own embarrassment?
