Her struggle to explain a slave’s acclimation to his or her chains would’ve been amusing in any other context. And yet, standing before her in the House of Petals, preparing to be trained in skills I never wished to master with anyone beyond the bounds of love, it all felt somehow poignant and personal.
Shedidunderstand. She probably felt the same when she . . . upon her own . . . acquisition.
“You must learn the physical arts as well, but those come last, not first. A customer who visits the House of Petals expects refinement in all things. They do not pay goodryofor someone who merely knows how to . . . perform acts even a dog might do.”
I blinked until my mouth decided to work again.
“So today . . .” I said slowly.
“Today, we begin with the foundation,” Hana said, her voice gentle. “It is nothing frightening or painful. You will see. Come.”
I followed her with a lighter step, the knot of terror in my chest loosening fractionally.
I was still trapped, still owned, still being trained for purposes I could barely comprehend, but I would not have to face the worst of it today . . . or for many months, if Hana was to be believed.
Today, I would only have to learn to sit.
I could do that.
Chapter 8
Kaneko
Hana led me to a room I had not visited before. Steam rose from a large wooden tub set into the floor, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and something citrus. Towels and soaps were arranged on a low table nearby. The tinkling of a chime dangling in an opening in the far wall gave the space a lyrical, peaceful quality.
“The water is ready,” Hana said as she moved toward the tub with purpose.
I stared. “I can bathe myself.”
A tiny laugh fluttered from her lips. She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “I am sure you can.” Her tone was patient, like speaking to a stubborn child. “But you are no longer a fisherman’s son doing whatever you please. You are property of the House of Petals. Everything must be done correctly, including this.” She gestured to the tub. “Please, Kaneko-san. Do not make this difficult.”
Without warning, she slipped free of herkimonoand stood before me bare as a babe.
I blushed and looked away. I wanted to refuse, wanted to demand she leave, but I remembered Momoko’s words: “The question is whether you will do it well enough to thrive, or poorly enough to suffer.”
My hands shook as I reached up to remove mykimono.
Hana’s slender fingers moved my own aside. As deftly as any artisan, she slid inside the silk, teasing my skin, and slipped the fabric free. It fell even more easily than hers had a moment earlier.
I stood there naked, exposed, every instinct screaming to cover myself, but there was nowhere to hide, and Hana was already guiding me toward the tub, her hand gripping mine with gentle certainty.
“Perhaps I should just—” I started.
“Into the water, silly boy,” she said firmly, a hint of humor teasing her lips.
Surrendering, I stepped in. The water was hot—almost too hot—but I sank in gratefully, letting it cover me to my chest. Heat seeped into my muscles, easing aches I had not realized I carried. For the first time since the attack on Tooi, pain, exhaustion, and fatigue—both of mind and body—allof it fled. I squeezed my eyes closed and let the warmth renew what was left of my spirit.
“Now, allow me—”
“I can wash myself,” I said quickly, reaching for the soap.
What followed was a disaster.
I grabbed the soap with too much force and it shot from my hand like a fish, arcing through the air before landing with a splash that sent water cascading over the sides of the tub. I lunged for it, creating more splashes, and managed to get soap in my eyes in the process.
“Gods!” I sputtered, pawing at my face.
“Kaneko-san—”
