Blossom of the Samurai Page 11

  “No, Sozaemon-san!”

  Toho squeezed Aoki’s arm and gently shook him. “You’re having a bad dream.”

  Aoki opened his eyes. “What? Who’s there?” He yanked his arm back.

  “It’s me, Toho.”

  “Ohhh.” Aoki heaved a deep breath. “I apologize. I must have awoken you.” In the darkness, Toho could make out Aoki’s slim outline, the quake of his shoulders.

  “Don’t worry, you didn’t wake me,” he lied. “I wasn’t asleep.”

  “Oh, I see.” Aoki lay back down. “I’m sorry I made loud noises.”

  “It’s all right.” Toho pulled Aoki’s covers back over him.

  “No, it’s not all right. When will I get better, To-chan? My mind cannot stay away from what happened. I can’t stop thinking that I could have done something different.”

  “You could not have,” Toho said. “You remember what Hirata told you? Sozaemon was depraved. Mad. He hurt everyone he touched.”

  A few moments passed in which Aoki seemed to digest these words. “Perhaps, but Hirata was a child then. Defenseless. I am a grown person.”

  Toho cleared his throat. In order to help Aoki, he would now have to dredge up the most agonizing memories he possessed. “So was my mother,” he murmured. “A grown person. Yet five of them raped her. One after the other. The last one killed her.”

  Aoki sat up again. “To-chan, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. But you cannot deny that you couldn’t have defended yourself against someone so much bigger and stronger, just as my mother could not have.”

  Aoki sniffled. “That is so true. Your poor mother.”

  “Yes.” Toho squeezed his eyes shut against the memory.

  “I have thought so many times about it, To-chan.” Aoki’s sympathy was in his voice.

  Toho sighed. “So have I. I just want you to understand that what happened is not your fault.”

  “I want to understand if not for any other reason than you are right and I have utter faith in your words.”

  “Thank you, Aoki-san.”

  Aoki yawned. “I’m so tired. You must be tired too. Looking after me must be a lot of work.”

  “No work at all. I’m very happy to be here with you. I’ll wait while you go to sleep, so you won’t be alone.”

  “Thank you.” Aoki settled down, yet he still shivered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so cold.”

  Toho remembered often feeling cold after his trauma. The comfort of human warmth, of Sho or Aoki holding him close, had been the only thing to help him feel warmer. “If I hold you the way you used to hold me, you’ll get warm. But I don’t want to do it if you don’t want me to.”

  “I do, thank you.”

  Butterflies took over Toho’s stomach as he slipped under the covers beside Aoki and put an arm over him. He held Aoki’s willowy form close, feeling his body quake against him.

  Little by little, Aoki’s shivering ebbed away and he sighed. “I feel so much better now. You were right.” He covered Toho’s hand with his and squeezed it close to his chest. “To-chan, can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Since Sozaemon… since what happened, I haven’t been able to bear anyone touching me. Except… you.”

  Warmth spread through Toho’s chest. “Ohhh. I’m… honored.” He squeezed Aoki closer, working to ignore the sweet smell of his friend’s hair and skin.

  Aoki released a long breath. “How glad I am finally to feel safe.”

  Safe. Aoki’s words sifted deep into his consciousness, blending with the warmth of Aoki’s form against his. A lump formed in his throat and his breath came a little harder. “That’s how I always felt when you held me so long ago,” he managed to say.

  “Ohhh. Really? I made you feel this way?”

  “Yes.” Toho was silent a moment while he tried not to tremble. Holding Aoki, he felt he could float up to the stars, and he felt like the strongest man. “I’ll hold you every night if it will help you. I promise.”

  More sniffles and Aoki began to tremble again, except Toho could sense the response was Aoki’s feeling moved. “Thank you so much,” he whispered through his tears. “Thank you.”

  Toho kept his promise over the weeks that followed. Each night he fell asleep with Aoki in his protective embrace. And, as the safety of that loving affection had once helped him to heal, it seemed to be helping Aoki heal. Each day more light shone in Aoki’s eyes, and the lilt came back to his voice. He began to smile more and more, and even to laugh. Their days fell into an easy rhythm. In the morning, they did chores, ate a small meal, went to the river to bathe and wash clothes, then sat on the bank, talking. In the late afternoons, they would walk, sometimes visit Toho’s family in the nearby village, and then return to have supper, sit outside and watch the stars, then go in to sleep.

  In that time, Sho and Hirata came to visit every seven days. Toho was always happy to see his fathers and relieved when Sho checked Aoki’s pulses and nodded approvingly over his recovery. They always stayed the night and left the following morning. The morning of their most recent visit, before they left, Sho turned to him. “Toho, let’s walk down to the river. I have something to tell you.”

  Toho followed his father, who held the guide rope leading down to the riverbank. When they reached it, Sho turned to him. “Before I tell you what I need to say, I have sensed something troubling you. Each time I’m here I feel it, but it’s not been time to ask you about it until now.”

  Toho’s cheeks burned and he turned slightly away from Sho, though it wouldn’t make any difference to do so. “You probably already know what it is.”

  “I have an idea. But I’d rather you said it yourself.”

  Toho heaved a deep breath. “There was this man, Shizu, long ago. He headed Aoki’s theater troupe. I think he too hurt Aoki-san.”

  Sho was quiet a moment, then, “Shizu is dead.”

  Toho’s insides jumped. He whipped around to his father. “Father, is that true?”

  Sho took a step toward him. “To you, it is. You needn’t trouble yourself about this person. You’ve known Aoki for years now and you could clearly see Shizu did not break his spirit.”

  “But Father, I believe Shizu used to—”

  “Shizu was like a sake merchant who taps from the barrel that he sells now and again. Unlike a barrel of wine, however, Shizu kept his flying fish relatively safe from the harsh world. Aoki always knew that. They all did. Let Shizu go, whether he is alive or dead.”

  Toho’s shoulders slouched. “Father, will I never have a chance to prove my love for Aoki?”

  “You already have. Many, many times over.” Sho put a hand on his arm. “Toho, do not wish for vengeance, ever. Wish only for compassion and peace. I would that you never have cause to draw your sword.”

  The heartfelt plea in his father’s voice shamed him. Yet he also felt some of his burden lift.

  “Perhaps what I need to tell you will help,” Sho went on. “A representative from the Blind Men’s Guild came all the way from Kyoto to speak with me. Provisions are being made for a clinic in Kai. When you and Aoki return, I want you to help me run it. Would you?”

  Toho pulled in a breath. The enormity of his father’s request sank in, bit by bit. When it did, gratitude made him kneel. “Father, you believe I’m able to do such a thing?”

  “Yes. I have complete faith in you.”

  “I’m honored. Of course I will work with you.”

  A rare smile came to Sho’s lips. “You’ve made me very happy this day.” They fell into a companionable silence and walked back up the riverbank toward the house where Aoki and Hirata were waiting in the front yard. “I have good news, Aoki-san,” Sho said. “I just finished asking Toho to assist me with a clinic that will be built in Kai in the coming months, and he accepted.”

  Aoki’s eyes went wide and he clapped his palms together. “Oh, that is wonderful! I’m so proud of you, To-chan.”

  Again
, Toho’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you.” Truthfully, his relief was great. He’d been worried about their life once they returned to the town. He had no real prospects and he’d been greatly concerned about what would be with Aoki and the theater. At least this way, if needed, he could help support Aoki.

  “I am also proud of you, son,” Hirata added.

  After more embraces, Sho and Hirata took their leave. Toho stood, Aoki at his side, waving and watching them recede into the high grasses that lined the narrow path back to the main road.

  “Your news couldn’t have made me happier,” Aoki said. He turned, smiling. In that moment, he looked almost back to his old self, eyes shining, skin glowing.

  Toho’s heart sped up. He wanted to embrace Aoki and pull him close. As always, Aoki’s beautiful face made him a little breathless. “I’m so glad.”

  “We should celebrate somehow.” Aoki’s eyebrows went up. “I know just the thing. We will sing and dance after supper.”

  Toho got caught up in Aoki’s enthusiasm. “Yes! And I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if we had some of the mead,” he added, referring to the barrel of fermented honey Sho kept stocked in the little house. He’d always used it for medicinal purposes, but Toho knew from experience that his fathers sipped from it occasionally when they were feeling perfectly healthy.

  “Wonderful!” Aoki touched his lips, frowning suddenly. “Oh dear, it’s been so long since I sang and danced. Feels like forever.”

  “You don’t have to, Aoki-san.”

  “Nonsense! This is a special occasion. Just the thing to get me back into the flow of my art. Now, will you help me pick which kimono I’ll wear?”

  “Yes.” Toho followed Aoki back inside. He knelt down by the chest where Aoki kept his things. For a while, the mood was just like it had been for so many years when Toho played among Aoki’s clothing and makeup and watched Aoki get ready to play his roles. That afternoon, Toho felt some of his concern for Aoki lift. Life seemed to be giving them a rest from the nightmare that had occurred and its aftermath.

  After supper, they each had a cup of mead. Toho was careful not to drink too much of it, since even a few sips caused his blood to warm. He was afraid that too much drink would cause him to let slip his feelings for Aoki and to behave in an unseemly manner that might alienate his friend, just when Aoki was beginning to feel better.

  Aoki too seemed to drink the mead cautiously. He giggled and hiccupped. “Excuse me, To-chan. I don’t drink very much. It makes me giddy.”

  He laughed. “Me too.”

  Aoki set down his cup. His exquisite beauty made an ache in Toho’s chest. Aoki had chosen a beautiful kimono of white with little purple flowers and had pinned up his hair with some wildflowers they’d picked that afternoon for the very purpose. “Now, for the celebratory performance. I thought I’d do some scenes from our favorite role. Genji’s flower maiden.”

  Toho clapped. “Oh yes! I’ve always loved that.”

  “Me too.” Aoki bowed demurely. He took a deep breath, delicately cleared his throat, and began. His sonorous, clear voice filled the small space, blending with the fire’s glow and shadows dancing on the timbered walls.

  Toho sat, transfixed as always, as Aoki painted a scene of lost love and longing with the sound of his voice and his graceful movements. He seemed a bit unsure of himself at first, but within moments, his obvious experience took over and he sang and danced as if no time had ever interrupted him.

  When he’d finished, Toho clapped and cheered.

  Aoki bowed several times and knelt daintily close by. His cheeks were flushed and his breath rose and fell heavily, but his eyes glowed and he seemed… happy. “That was so much fun. I’d nearly forgotten how much I love to dance and sing.” He looked down. “Thank you, To-chan, for helping me to remember.”

  Toho stopped himself at the last second from reaching out to touch Aoki’s cheek. How would Aoki react to such a thing? “I helped you remember?”

  “Oh yes! I couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned a bit closer, bringing with him his flowery scent. “I couldn’t imagine life without you, To-chan.”

  Toho’s vision blurred. His palms broke out in a sweat. Had he heard correctly? “Oh, Aoki-san, I feel the same way.”

  Aoki’s eyelashes fluttered. The flush in his cheeks deepened. He lifted his hand as if to reach out, then quickly pulled it back.

  OH DEAR! What had he almost done? Aoki feigned a yawn so that Toho would not realize his friend had almost reached out to touch his jaw, to run his fingertips along the manly stubble. What am I doing? “I am so sleepy now,” he said, leaning back as if he would fall asleep right then and there.

  Poor Toho looked so puzzled. He was frowning and inched backward.

  Aoki feigned another yawn, this time to cover his slightly panicked breathing. He hadn’t expected the mead and the song and dance, and dressing in a beautiful kimono, to have this effect on him. He’d been feeling so safe, so loved and protected with his friend Toho, that he’d felt like himself again these past few days, almost as he had before Sozaemon’s attack, that he’d forgotten himself.

  Just because Toho was a handsome young samurai and the man Aoki found to be the most wonderful in all the world, didn’t mean he had the right to try and… kiss his friend. For a moment he considered confessing his feelings. His gratitude and trust had grown so these past weeks that they’d seemed to blend into passion, to have taken over his heart. If he could just spend the rest of his life with his wonderful Toho, he’d be happy and want for nothing more. The samurai he’d always dreamed of loving had been right in front of him all along.

  “Aoki-san,” Toho said quietly, “this has been a difficult time and your sense of well-being is fragile. You must still get plenty of rest.”

  Aoki heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.” He rose and went behind the screen to change into his sleeping kimono. On the other side, he heard Toho slide open the door. No doubt to go outside and wash their cups.

  When Toho came back in with the washed cups, he smiled. Perhaps he’d understood what had started to happen between them and believed it to be a result of the mead. Toho went behind the screen and changed. When he emerged, Aoki swallowed hard as he watched the young samurai cross over and climb under his covers.

  “Sleep well, Aoki-san,” Toho said. He lay on his side, facing Aoki.

  Aoki lay down facing him too. He’d grown to love their ritual each night, and Toho seemed to love it as well. “You too, To-chan.”

  Toho closed his eyes. Aoki gazed on him. The lantern still burned, so Aoki could clearly see Toho’s rugged features in the shadowy light. He squelched the urge to move closer, missing those nights that Toho had held him in the wake of his nightmares. The truth was, no matter how his feelings had changed, he and Toho had a certain kind of relationship and he would have to honor it as it was, rather than what he would wish. Toho was meant for great things, especially now that he would be heading a clinic at his father’s side. Some wealthy lord would eventually notice Toho and want him for his daughter. Aoki would not stand in the way of Toho’s life. Toho didn’t need to be brought down by some little….

  Aoki sighed. Toho would be upset with him if he knew the course of his thoughts. For that reason alone, Aoki put them aside and tried to sleep. Perhaps in the morning, after some rest, he would be back to normal.

  Yet, the next morning when he awoke, the conflict inside him remained. He sat up. Toho’s futon was empty, but he hadn’t yet rolled it up for the day. No doubt he hadn’t wanted to awaken his friend, who needed rest.

  A loud, rhythmic thumping sounded outside. Toho was obviously working. Sounded like he was splitting logs for the cook fire. Intending to ask Toho if he’d had some breakfast, Aoki went to the door and slid it open. And froze.

  In the summer heat, Toho had let down the top portion of his kimono, which hung around his waist, held firmly in place by the sash. His muscular torso gleamed in the sun, droplets of sweat running over his b
road chest. He raised the ax and brought it down in swift strokes, splitting one log after another.

  Aoki stood transfixed. Each time Toho turned to add the split logs to his growing pile, his back muscles flexed with his movements, as did the rounded muscles of his arms. A lump formed in Aoki’s throat. His body felt tingles all over, even in the places he’d thought never to feel tingles again after what had happened with Sozaemon. Like a fire throwing countless sparks, Aoki felt… alive, the way he always had when he found a man attractive.

  Aoki pulled himself back inside, peeking around the door every few seconds to get a glimpse. He bit down on his bottom lip to dampen the fire inside him, but it didn’t work. Nothing did. Not even when he slid the door shut did his raging body calm down. He went to the cooking pit and busied himself with preparing some rice and taro for their breakfast. Toho would come in hungry. He always did.

  Aoki closed his eyes and struggled to collect himself. If this problem continued, he’d have to make sure they went back to town very soon. If he stayed alone here with Toho much longer, there would be trouble….

  Chapter Nine

  AOKI STARED into the cook fire as he ran the comb down his hair, vividly aware of Toho’s concerned presence nearby. Usually Toho hovered out of his fear for Aoki’s well-being. Tonight, Aoki knew, his friend’s worry was for a different reason. Aoki pretended his hair needed complete concentration, although, no doubt, Toho would not be fooled. He had inherited his father’s acute awareness. All those years of being trained to work and observe while blindfolded….

  Toho came and sat close by. “Aoki-san?”

  Aoki’s heart jumped. He put down his comb and glanced sideways. “Yes?”

  “Something is wrong between us. I’ve felt it for days. Have I done something bad? Something to hurt you? Please, tell me so I can fix it.”

  The plea in the young samurai’s voice tore at him. How could he continue with his silent torture, now knowing how it was affecting dear Toho, the person he claimed to love above all others? He turned fully to Toho and had to pull in a breath. The glow of the firelight danced on Toho’s chiseled features and stubbled jaw. Aoki forced himself not to let his gaze move downward, over Toho’s throat, to his collarbones peeking from underneath his slightly gapping kimono. How handsome he was! The very cause of Aoki’s inner conflict. “You’ve done nothing wrong, To-chan, I swear it. The problem is mine alone.”