Hanzo raked him with a scathing sneer. Not that Koichi expected anything less. He’d just disrespected him.
In his own home.
He was lucky Hanzo hadn’t drawn on him. Or rather, Hanzo was lucky that Koichi hadn’t drawn onhim. While Hanzo might be a renowned samurai, they both knew who would win in a duel.
Even half sober, Koichi was still the best swordsman in Japan. No one, not even Hanzo, refuted that.
And it wasn’t like anything good ever came from Koichi. In fact, trouble dogged his heels as if they were magnets for it.
No doubt his old commander planned to cut him down where he stood if the next words out of his mouth didn’t justify his actions.
So be it. He just might not fight back, for once.
Gently, Koichi unwrapped Ryuichi so that Hanzo could see his unconscious state. The boy’s skin was pale and his breathing shallow. Bruises marred his young, handsome features, and blood was crusted around his nose.
The alarming sight did nothing to change the pique on Hanzo’s face, or the sarcasm in his voice. “Let me guess. Our mission was as successful as always? At least you appear sober. That’s a nice change of pace.”
“Don’t get cute, Cousin. Who is this boy? Really?”
Hanzo shrugged. “A foundling.”
“And so—what? You just decided to bring him here to your home?” That was so out of character for a man who only took in boys and girls from respectable houses and notable families.
Hanzo might call them “foundlings,” but he usually found them only in the homes of the best people.
“It seemed like a good idea.”
How? Had Hanzo gone mad? “And why’s that?”
“The boy was skilled, and I thought we could use someone who was already advanced in his training.”
Koichi laughed and stepped back, his hand hovering over his sword.
How he ached to let it fly from its scabbard. To challenge the fool before him over such a pompous, stupid act as to bring in a boy with the powers Ryuichi possessed.
But he knew better.
While he, too, was still a samurai, Koichi was well aware that no one else saw it that way.
Least of all his famed cousin, who thought him only half a step up from a peasant.
At the end of the day, Koichi was ronin. Without a master. And all because the one he’d served had been killed in a foolish quest while Koichi had done his best to save him.
Yes, he’d avenged his master, but no one else had seen it. No one knew what he’d done for his master, or Japan. Nor did anyone believe it.
So he’d been left adrift. Hated and repelled by everyone. No decent samurai would allow him near their service.
Had his cousin Hanzo not taken him in, Koichi would have been driven to death by now.
By his own hand or someone else’s.
But he was stronger than that. He’d promised his master that he would continue to hold the code they’d sworn themselves to. To keep back the monsters who preyed on innocence. No matter if he was mocked and belittled for protecting this world. Hated for keeping others safe. Even if no one vouched for him, not even his own cousin.
So he’d been relegated by his honor. To endure this horrific existence while he was shamed.
And it was horrible. As if life itself begrudged him every breath he took. That was why Koichi had crawled into his sake and stayed there. It at least made all of this tolerable.
Now...
