“Is that what we are calling it now?” The old warrior’s eyes twinkled with amusement despite his stern tone. “Esumi-san, since you seem so invested in the prince’s . . . form . . . you will spar with him. Full contact.”
“Master, I don’t think—”
“Excellent idea,” I interrupted, spinning mybokkenwith a flourish. “I’ve been working on something new.”
Esumi sighed, retrieving his own practice sword. “Remember,youasked for this.”
We took our positions, and I couldn’t help a grin. Even preparing for combat, Esumi was beautiful—all controlled grace and coiled power. The sun caught the highlights in his inky hair, still mussed from sleep becausesomeonehad insisted on one more kiss before morning training.
“Focus,” he warned.
“Iamfocused.”
“On the fight, Haru.”
“That, too.”
He attacked without warning, hisbokkenwhistling through the air. I barely got my guard up in time, the impact jarring my arms, but I’d been expecting it—Esumi always pressed hard when he thought I wasn’t taking things seriously.
I gave ground, letting him push me back.
I knew his patterns better than my own.
There—that subtle shift in his stance before his favorite combination. I shifted my weight and—
Found myself flat on my back, Esumi’sbokkenat my throat, his knee planted on my chest.
“You’ve been broadcasting that counter since yesterday’s session,” he said mildly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I was hoping you’d be distracted by my devastating charm.”
“Your charm is middling at best.” He smirked and extended a hand to help me stand.
“That’s not what you said this morning.”
“I was being polite.”
“You moaned poetry—actual poetry—something about moonlight and eternal springs.”
His ears turned red, but he kept his expression neutral. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“‘Your eyes are stars that guide my nights’—”
He pressed thebokkenagainst my throat. “Would you like to yield, Your Highness?”
“To you? Always.”
Master Chen’s cough interrupted us. “Prince Haru-sama, I believe you are scheduled to assist with the junior class this morning.”
“Next time, I usemahou,” I said, bumping Esumi’s shoulder as I stepped out of the ring. “We’ll see how you fight against a living god.”
Esumi snorted. “Full of ourselves much?”
He fell into step beside me. Across the courtyard,bokkensang as Yoshi battled an older, far thicker boy in a dusty ring.
“Gods above,” Esumi breathed. “How is he moving like that? Like . . .you. . . when you use your magic?”
We moved closer, drawn by the spectacle. Yoshi attempted a jumping strike that should have been graceful, but he overshot so disastrously that he slammed into a nearby practice dummy, sending both himself and the wooden figure tumbling.
