We ate, chatting and laughing as though the world weren’t about to burst into flames. Takeo remained solemn and silent throughout most of the meal, but the Prince and Esumi were in rare form, telling one bawdy joke or ridiculous story after another. Being with Haru, Esumi, and my uncle—especially with Kaneko grinning at my side—felt so natural, so intimate. It was the first perfect moment I could remember in many, many moons.
After dinner, I walked Kaneko back toward his quarters. He’d been given a small room near mine, though we both knew he wouldn’t be using it much. The corridors were quieter now with most students attending their evening meditation.
“Your uncle doesn’t trust me,” Kaneko observed.
“He doesn’t know you like he used to. And with everything going on, it’s hard to trust anyone. Being cautious is what’s kept him alive this long.”
We turned a corner and nearly collided with Daichi and Kenta.
“So,” Daichi said, not moving aside, “this is the distraction you’ve been mooning over for so long?”
“Daichi—” I warned.
“We’re about to fight a war,” he continued, ignoring me, his eyes on Kaneko. “We need warriors, not lovesick fools who abandon their training the moment their whore shows up.”
Kaneko moved so fast I barely saw it. One moment he stood casually beside me, the next Daichi was against the wall, Kaneko’s forearm across his throat, a blade I hadn’t seen him tuck into his sash now pressing into Daichi’s skin, drawing as single bead of blood.
“Call me—or Yoshi—that again,” Kaneko said softly, pleasantly, “and we’ll see how well your training holds up against someone who learned to fight in places darker than your nightmares.”
“Kaneko,” I said, stunned.
For a moment, Kaneko didn’t move. Daichi gulped, causing the droplet of crimson to fall. Then Kaneko stepped back, smooth as silk.
Daichi rubbed his throat, eyes wide. “Tomorrow,” he rasped. “In the ring. Let’s settle this properly, like Samurai.”
“I am no Samurai, and neither are you. With a mouth like that, you might not live long enough to become one, either,” Kaneko said in a sickly pleasant tone that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “But I will gladly teach you who to fear.”
Kenta pulled Daichi away, and we resumed our walk.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said.
“Probably not.” Kaneko didn’t sound sorry. “But I’m tired of being called a whore, and I’ll be damned if I stand by as someone insultsyourhonor.”
The word “whore” seemed to float in the air before us. I wanted to ask why everyone used that word, why some implied he belonged to Haru—or was on his leash—but I couldn’t bring myself to face those truths. We’d only just been reunited. The last thing I wanted was to taint a beautiful homecoming with the trials that had kept us apart.
We arrived at my chamber—our chamber now, really—forgoing the ruse of even visiting the one assigned to Kaneko. As I reached for the door, Kaneko caught my hand.
“Yoshi,” he said softly. “This is really happening, isn’t it? We’re really here. Together.”
“It’s happening.” I smiled and pulled him close. “And you’re never getting rid of me. You get that, right?”
Our lips met, soft at first, then deeper. Years of longing—more than the year we were separated, years when we were too young or ignorant or stupid to see our love clearly—poured into that kiss. The desperate need to confirm this was real, we were real, we’d found each other again—
“Ahem.”
We broke apart to find Master Hachan standing in the corridor, reed in hand, looking deeply unimpressed.
“Evening meditation, Yoshi-san. Now.”
“Yes, Master,” I said, my face burning.
As the master walked away, Kaneko whispered, “Just like old times. You, me, and someone interrupting.”
I laughed, the sound bright in the dim corridor. “Tomorrow, after I destroy you in the ring—”
“You mean after I leave you face-down in the dirt?”
“Whatever. After that, I’m going to destroy you in my chamber again.”
