Blossom of the Samurai Page 5

  That seemed to sift into Toho’s consciousness, marked by his rise from his knees. “I see, Aoki-san. Forgive me. I have no right to exact a promise from you.”

  Aoki smiled. Warmth flushed his chest. “There is nothing to forgive.” Toho’s youthful passion was only endearing and… inspiring. “Now, it’s cold out here. Let’s go home.”

  Toho nodded and fell into step beside him. On some strange impulse, Aoki slipped his arm around Toho’s and hooked arms as they walked. In his years at the teahouse, whispers of gossip of the ways of the barbarians from foreign lands often reached their ears, including the practice of strolling together, arm in arm. Indeed, the practice was alien, as Toho glanced down, a puzzled look on his young face. Even in the shady light, the faint traces of his rugged beard were visible, as were the chiseled contours of his face. Though neither Sho nor Hirata was Toho’s birth father, one would never know, guessing from the handsome masculinity he emanated, both in looks and bearing.

  Unbidden, Aoki’s knowledge of another barbarian practice surfaced in his memory. That of the practice of open-mouthed kissing, tongues passionately entwined so that each person could fully taste and smell the other’s flavors. He had done it from time to time in his occupation. Indeed Sozaemon had kissed him that way as well. The practice had long insinuated itself into their own erotic culture.

  The memory led to heightened awareness of Toho’s arm. Rounded hard muscle met Aoki’s fingertips through their clothing. A pleasant yet illicit shudder passed through Aoki’s body. He considered pulling his arm from Toho’s, but then Toho would question the sudden pulling away. Perhaps he would even feel it was his fault. That wouldn’t do.

  No matter. Aoki’s town house was near. As soon as they turned the corner onto his small quiet side street, the stroll was nearly over. The third gate along the high whitewashed wall was his. When they reached it, Aoki gracefully disengaged with a smile in order to open the gate.

  Once inside the house, he left Toho off at the guest room door with as much grace as he could muster. It shouldn’t have felt so difficult. Toho was no longer a child. Toho no longer needed him to quell his nightmares with a protective embrace. Toho must have understood all that, for he said good night and slid the shoji door to his room closed, albeit with a noticeably disappointed expression on his masculine features.

  Aoki cleared his throat and went to his own room. Peony had laid out his futon and his nightclothes. Aoki changed, folded his kimono, and placed it in the drawer, as he did every night. Then he sat down at his dressing table, undid the hair tie, and proceeded to comb out his long hair. All the while, an inexplicable ache sat in his chest.

  “Aoki-san?” Toho’s voice came through from the other side of the door.

  Aoki stilled, comb halfway down the fall of his hair. “To-chan? Are you all right?” Long habit had made him especially alert to the sound of Toho’s voice, though he was not at all used to how deep it was now. He set down the comb and turned.

  “Yes. I… came to say good night again.”

  Aoki’s heart jumped… just a little. “Oh. Of course. Come in.” He watched the shoji slide back, revealing Toho in a sleeping kimono, his shoulder-length hair loose. Aoki’s breath caught. He worked a smile onto his lips, the expression covering the inner turmoil inspired by the sight of the young man. “Why don’t you come here, To-chan? I’ll comb your hair for you.” That was innocent enough, something he had done many times for him.

  Toho’s face brightened. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Toho approached him and knelt down, his back to Aoki. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Aoki suppressed a smile. He couldn’t have tried for long. They’d only been in their respective rooms a few minutes. “It’s all right. Neither could I.” He reached toward Toho’s hair and ran the comb down the sleek length. Toho’s hair was beautiful, thick and smooth. How he’d missed this simple act of care. When he finished, he reached for a hair tie on his vanity and secured Toho’s hair at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t tangle while he slept. “There you are.”

  Toho turned, still kneeling. “Thank you.” The soft light of the candles burning on their tall holders nearby cast a soft glow on the young samurai’s face and eyes. “Aoki-san, I… just wanted you to know that when your… samurai comes back to see you, I won’t be in your way.”

  Aoki’s heart jumped. “In my way?”

  Toho nodded. “Genji invited me to stay with him and Daisuke, whenever I wanted. That way, I’ll be able to practice with Daisuke in the mornings and help you in the theater during the days.”

  “To-chan, I would never turn you out for any reason.”

  “I know that. It’s just that, you need your privacy. I don’t want to intrude.”

  Aoki sighed, the response pushed from him by a spike of guilt. “You always have a place with me. Whether Sozaemon is here or not.”

  Toho’s eyebrows went up. Recognition lit his eyes. “Sozaemon?”

  Aoki stilled. “You know him?”

  “Not really. I met a ronin named Sozaemon on my journey here. He was in the tavern of the inn where I stayed. He sat down at my table and began a conversation with me. When he found out who my grandfather was, he then paid for my supper. He was once a student in my grandfather’s school.”

  “That was he. He is generous and has traveled to many dojos throughout Japan, studying with as many great sword masters as possible.” Talking about Sozaemon gave Aoki an unexpected flush of pleasure. “He is charming too. I’m sure he saw you sitting by yourself and wanted to keep you company.”

  “Yes,” Toho answered. “That is what happened. He said no one should ever eat and drink alone.”

  Aoki chuckled. “I have heard him say that with my own ears. I’m so glad you met him! Did you like him?”

  A tiny crinkle appeared in Toho’s smooth brow. “I suppose I did. I didn’t really spend much time with him. I admit….” He glanced down. “I was nervous traveling alone for the first time ever and I… well… I don’t really trust strangers, so I suppose my fear and suspicion clouded my ability to see what kind of person he was.”

  A prickle of relief made Aoki realize how much he wanted Toho to like the older samurai. After all, both men were so important to him. Toho’s opinion mattered the world. “Well, when he returns, you’ll meet him again and I’m sure you’ll like him.”

  “If you feel that way, Aoki-san, I’m sure I will.”

  TOHO CLEARED his throat softly. He hoped his disappointment didn’t show too much on his face. If it did, Aoki didn’t seem to notice. Although why the prospect of Sozaemon’s return should make him feel so tense, he didn’t know. Aoki’s heart was so big and full of love, surely there was room for both of them. Which reminded him….

  “Before we left Genji’s, Genji repeated his invitation to stay with him and Daisuke when Sozaemon returns.” His heartbeat had risen slightly and he watched Aoki’s face for a response.

  Unexpectedly, a strange sadness flashed through Aoki’s large, sweet eyes.

  Suddenly he felt Aoki’s delicate hand on his cheek. The warm, soft contact caused a flush through him.

  “To-chan, you always have a place with me, no matter what. Whether Sozaemon is here or away. Seeing you again has been one of the greatest joys I’ve known for a very long time.”

  Toho’s heart sped up yet more. His gaze fell on Aoki’s lips. So soft and full. An odd tingle spread through his whole body. His breathing deepened. He covered Aoki’s hand with his. “Thank you, Aoki-san,” he managed to utter. For several years now, when he thought of Aoki, this strange reaction would happen inside him. Here, in Aoki’s physical presence, it was that much more intense. He even dared to think this was how his fathers felt when they were in each other’s presence, the bond that had held them together through their long separation and that had made them unable to bear another moment apart as long as they lived….

  Toho caught his breath. Yes, th
at was how he felt about Aoki-san. Really felt. The way Sho and Hirata felt for each other. He’d been around them for so long now, watching the way they looked at each other, feeling the palpable love between them, a force all its own….

  He only wished Aoki felt the same way. Aoki loved him, yes, but in the way an older sister loves her little brother, or a friend loves a friend. Not… this way. He swallowed. A huge lump had formed in his throat, making speech difficult. Best if he went to his room now. “I should let you rest now. Tomorrow is a long day ahead.”

  Aoki’s gentle smile made an ache in his chest. He brushed his thumb along Toho’s cheekbone and then lifted his hand away. Slipped it from underneath Toho’s hand and brought it to rest on his thigh. “Sleep well, To-chan. Thank you.”

  Slowly, Toho rose and turned. How badly he wanted to spread his futon next to Aoki’s and stay with him, to fall asleep against Aoki the way he used to. He had been more fortunate to be a child and be closer to Aoki, even though it wasn’t… this way.

  As he went into the guest room and lay on his futon, he stared up into the dark rafters, imagining Aoki lying down, his long hair, bound in its tie, spread across the pillow on which he rested his beautiful head. The tingling sensations still traveled through his body, ending in his… privates. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on other thoughts, especially the one about how much better it would be if he took Genji up on his offer of lodging sooner rather than waiting for Sozaemon’s return.

  Eventually, his tactic worked. He grew sleepy and fell into a slumber filled with dreams of Aoki. An odd, in-between twilight state overtook his mind in which the same scenario began over and over, yet with no middle or end, except for that of his eyes opening to the dark room then closing again to the start of it. Each time, Aoki smiled at him and leaned close, delicate fingertips caressing his jaw, followed by, “I love you, To-chan.”

  After what seemed the millionth time the interrupted dream cycle occurred, Toho’s eyes opened and stayed opened. Instead of succumbing to sleep again for fear of experiencing that truncated dream, Toho sat up. His room was lighter than before, indicating the approaching dawn.

  Gratefully, he rose and dressed, rolling up his own futon and storing it so that the serving maid wouldn’t have to.

  Aoki too had just arisen and met him in the hallway, inviting him to a quick breakfast before they headed to the theater.

  Over steaming cups of tea and rice balls, Aoki studied his face. He frowned. “To-chan, are you all right? Did you sleep well?”

  Toho’s stomach jumped a bit. Was Aoki catching wind of his true anxiety? He effected as casual an air as he could muster. “I’m fine, Aoki-san. I guess I just didn’t sleep so well because I’m excited about your opening day.”

  Aoki smiled, seeming relieved. “Me too.”

  Toho forced himself to eat, though his stomach and throat were both tight. He didn’t want Aoki to worry or become suspicious. Nor could he tell Aoki about the endless, interrupted dream.

  After breakfast, they headed out. Dawn had lightened the sky and the town was waking along with the growing of day. As they walked, Toho’s thoughts turned once again to his concern about leaving Aoki’s to stay with Genji and Daisuke. In spite of his resolution, he worried about telling Aoki of his plan. Aoki would want to know why he was leaving. Would Toho be able to tell him?

  However, as they approached the back entrance of the theater, Toho saw his decision had been made for him.

  Down the steps of the back porch, from between the long noren curtains flagging the doorway, emerged the stocky frame of the large ronin named Sozaemon.

  Chapter Four

  AOKI’S HEART leaped. “Sozaemon-san!” He approached his lover with the breathless anticipation of the maidens he portrayed onstage. “You’re back so soon! How wonderful!”

  Sozaemon wore the smile that had so charmed him the first time he found the ronin by the backstage door after a performance, waiting to meet him. “Hello, Aoki-san. Yes, I was able to return earlier than originally planned, but I didn’t want to disturb you at home.”

  Aoki’s cheeks tingled. “How thoughtful you are.”

  The flicker of Sozaemon’s gaze to Toho, who hung back a few feet, reminded Aoki of the necessary introduction. Yet, before he could speak, recognition lit Sozaemon’s heavy features. “Morimasa-kun, how nice to see you again. Am I to assume that our dear Aoki is a mutual friend?”

  Hesitantly, Toho joined them and bowed to the older man. “Yes, sir.”

  Sozaemon chuckled. “Who knew that when I supped with you at the inn, we had such a connection.”

  “Aoki-san helped to raise me after I was orphaned years ago. I’d been away for many years and was on my way to pay him a visit.”

  “I see! Well, perhaps you will sit with me during the performance.”

  Toho bowed again. “Thank you, Sozaemon-san. I will. After I help with the costumes.”

  “Toho has always been very helpful backstage,” Aoki said. “Our most eager stagehand.” He smiled although he found his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two samurai. How badly he wanted them to like each other. An odd tension suddenly pulled at the back of his neck. “But please, join us backstage if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Aoki-san. But I have some business first and have yet to eat as well. I will return in time for the performance.”

  Aoki felt a tug in his chest. Now that Sozaemon was here, he didn’t want him to leave. Just as he never wanted anyone he loved to leave his presence, ever. Only the other man’s promise of return reassured him. “All right, dear Sozaemon. I am as always so happy to see you.”

  Though Aoki wanted Sozaemon to take his hand and press a kiss into his palm as he often did on their partings and reunitings, Sozaemon only bowed, gracing him and Toho with a smile. Obviously, he would not give a public display of affection, which was only seemly. “See you soon, Aoki-san. Morimasa-kun.”

  Aoki watched Sozaemon turn and head back down the alleyway toward the main thoroughfare. When at last he looked up at Toho again, the young man’s expression, solemn and a bit crestfallen, made his heart thump. Time seemed to slow down. The world shrank away, just long enough for Aoki’s consciousness to register yet again the change he’d seen in Toho when Toho had appeared at his gate. A young man whose emotions had matured along with his body. A young man who has met the rival for the affections of the one in his heart and knows he will not have the place he covets. Oh dear. “To-chan, let’s go inside.”

  Toho visibly collected himself. He was so transparent in his silent decision not to let Aoki see his distress lest he worry his friend. “Yes, Aoki-san.”

  Aoki forced himself to put aside his concern in order to concentrate on the performance ahead. Yet as he went through the motions, putting on his makeup and costume, getting into place, and then beginning to sing and dance, part of his consciousness remained on Toho. Never could he have imagined Toho harboring those kinds of… feelings for him. In his mind, Toho had remained the young boy who’d left with his fathers that day, not the handsome young samurai he’d become.

  Surely there were beautiful young maidens aplenty who would give anything to become Toho’s wife and provide him with children to carry on his name. Toho had been raised a samurai, with a samurai’s status and prospects. If nothing else, he had a good home and his father’s dojo to employ him. At least, it seemed, Toho would always have what he needed from life.

  Not all samurai had such prospects. Indeed, many were unemployed, with nowhere to put their skills to use. They either ended up wandering aimlessly and subsisting on odd jobs or providing protection to a business where they could find such employment. Or they turned to crime, lending their skills as bodyguards to gangsters. There was no certainty in this world.

  Which was why, when Sozaemon had showed up that night at the backstage door, wishing to meet him and court him, Aoki had not been able to resist the ronin’s charm. Admittedly, since those times when Toho’s father Sho ha
d been a customer, Aoki had not experienced the sweet tenderness of lovemaking. But Sozaemon was a good lover in his way and Aoki had found enough sweetness in their time together to consider their mutual happiness in a domestic partnership the most possible of anyone he had spent time with since retiring from the teahouse.

  And time was the problem. Not being so far from his thirtieth year, he couldn’t rely much longer on fairness of face and figure to attract a partner to him. Outer beauty had only a short flowering before it faded. Toho saw him as beautiful now, but he was so very young. He had many years ahead of him to meet so many beautiful girls and fall in love. Surely what he felt now was only the infatuation over someone safe for him. Someone he trusted. It would pass. With Sozaemon, such things were not as pressing a concern. Though Sozaemon had obviously been drawn to his beauty, in time, once the other man was enough in love with him, the bond would deepen.

  In spite of all the justifications and rationalizations Aoki thought of as he went through his day, leaving them behind only long enough to perform, his guilt mounted as the moment drew closer to leave the theater with Sozaemon and bring him home.

  Backstage, Toho helped him and Genji and the others to remove their costumes and hang them carefully for the next day’s performance. Aoki watched Toho from the corner of his eye as he removed his makeup and retied his hair. Toho seemed in good enough spirits, yet Aoki knew him well enough to sense the tension that made his broad shoulders a touch stiff. When he was ready to leave, he rose from his stool and called to Toho, who approached him with a troubled yet devoted smile.

  “Thank you for all your help, To-chan.” Aoki’s chest squeezed, unprepared as he was for the moment of parting.

  “You’re welcome, Aoki-san.” His dark gaze searched Aoki’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine with Genji and Daisuke. I’m… looking forward to staying with them and sparring with Daisuke tomorrow.”

  Aoki didn’t completely believe him, but he allowed himself to be lulled. “I feel bad,” he said. “After all this time—”