Christina Brady     
10.3.2005    

Author’s Note: 1.) This is NOT Japanese Anime.  
                        2.) All European spellings are intentional.
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Bushido

The men leapt onto their horses, katanas at their sides, bows slung across their bodies, strings pulled taunt against their armour clad chests.  Fog hung in the air around us, laying a fine sheen of dew over the metal plated armour.  Sunlight filtered down through the barren autumn trees and morning fog to illuminate the dew, blending our forms with the surrounding haze.  Our horses shifted their weight from side to side; anxious for the battle they sensed lay near.  No birds sang, and silence was the Emperor in this dormant forest.

I looked around at my men that surrounded me, and studied their calm demeanor.  Their faces showed no fear, a type of quiet calm that fed off one another providing additional strength where weakness might have reigned.  Thanking them for their service and loyalty to our people, I tried to lend them my own strength and drew my own from them.  Battle worn leather creaked and groaned as we sat disciplined, listening to the approaching caravan.  “They draw near Takamoto-san.” I nodded to Sato as he sat beside me on his horse and whispered.

The Emperor had commanded us to demolish this particular caravan, because it carried supplies to the opposing daimyo’s encampment not far from Tokyo.  As his Samurai, we obliged him and carried this order out instead of His military, because not only did this caravan carry supplies, it carried a high ranking officer of the enemy daimyo.  Our strategy was a simple one: encircle the caravan, attack from all sides, and crush them much like a raw cherry would under a wooden sandal in the spring.

It would have been easier if it had been spring instead of autumn or even summer.  At least then we would have the advantage of green foliage to hide behind and muffle the sounds of our movement.  But it was autumn and we took extra care to mask our presence.  That morning we had covered our faces with the mempo of our hachi rather than leaving it off like we normally would this time of the year.  Though we had cloths over our horses’ nostrils, we still held our hands over their muzzles to disperse the delicate tendrils of breath that made their way out from the masks to mix with the surrounding fog.  Through the leather of my glove, I felt the moist heat of my stallion’s breath.  The stalling was one of the best we had, and I felt honoured that my men gave it to me after defeating a daimyo many battles ago.  “Takamoto Hirotoshi,” they had told me, “Take this for leading us to yet another victory.”  I thought that they should have given the horse to another samurai who needed it more than me, but I accepted it with grace because of their thoughtfulness.

The rattle of the approaching wagons drew me out of my thoughts. I sensed my men grow tense in preparation to rush the ground below our hill side position.  As the noise of the caravan increased in volume, we could hear the familiar chink sound of armour. Of course the caravan would be heavily guarded…I thought to myself. It would be ignorant to allow a commander to travel alone during a time of war. I never went anywhere without my men because I was a high-ranking commander in the Emperor’s Samurai force.  So the guards with the caravan did not come as a surprise to me.

As the clinking sound continued to grow louder, the most elegant of the wagons came into view.  The wagon was surrounded with Samurai and this signaled to me that the commanding officer was riding in that wagon.  I motioned with my hand, just a quick flick of the wrist and we were quietly moving forward, down the hill, barely making a sound.

I heard a slight knocking of wood at my side and placed my hand on the silk wrapped friend strapped at my left hip to silence the noise and prevent exposing our presence.  As I sat watching my men move forward, I drew comfort from the worn wrappings.  Once smooth, they were now rough but not frayed.  The once royal blue silk was now a darkened blue colour, but I could not bring myself to re-wrap the katana hilt.  It would have been as if I were stripping a woman down and raping her, which, as a samurai, went against everything I had pledged to protect and uphold.  That was how many of my men felt about their daisho.

The cavalry stayed at the top of the hill while my footmen made their way down the hillside. My green eyes surveyed the wagons rolling past us.  There were several men walking along side the daimyo’s wagon, seven to be exact, three on each side, and one in the back of the wagon. Surrounding the foot soldiers was the daimyo’s cavalry.  There was a fair amount; I would venture to say approximately twenty to thirty samurai mounted on beautiful chestnut bays.

Their armour was impressive.  All but one of the men wore the same small kuwagata on their hachi.  The only reason why I saw the leader was because he sat higher in his saddle than the rest and his kuwagata bowed out just a bit more than the rest, a subtle signal of authority only another leader would recognize.  I had to call them clever, because they hid their leader so well.  They had a good strategy that would have fooled even me, had I not been Samurai for the past seventeen of my twenty eight years.

I watched my men reach the bottom of the tree-clad hillside.  The caravan was closing in on our position, completely unaware of our presence.  I sent a silent prayer up that our mission would go as planned, and we would return with all men and bodies in tact.  The foot soldiers signaled up to me when the daimyo was directly in front of us.  My cavalry held their katana hilts with a fierce grip as we waited for my men at the bottom of the hill to advance.

Still holding my hand over my horse’s nose, I shifted in my saddle and clenched my legs against the beast’s sides in a reassuring thank you for the animal’s service.  Though I had just received the horse not but months ago, there was a certain kinship between the animal and myself that I had not had with any other horse I had ever owned.  We remained silent and a few more moments passed. My ears strained against the silence to hear anything from my men below, but they had been trained well.  I did not hear anything from them until the war cry emerged and the silence erupted into a volcanic force volume of noise.

My men and I waited farther up the hill, listening, waiting for the proper time to strike.  It was imperative for the enemy daimyo to become assured that they would win the battle before going down and catching them off guard.  We finally surged forward down the hill, avoiding trees and debris to meet the opposing force of the daimyo’s cavalry, katanas drawn.

The following battle was nothing out of the ordinary.  The men judged one another before quickly finding another man of the same experience and rank.  The ranks found one another based on the tell tale signs on the armour.  While the other men matched up ranks, I went after the man with the larger horns as was customary.  The crashing of metal against metal was deafening, but was something that I had grown accustomed to over the past years.

                However, this battle was anything but ordinary.  The last thing I remembered was lunging forward driving my katana deep into the man’s body when it started to sprinkle.  I then remembered hearing something behind me, turning bringing my hand up to block the flash of a blade I saw careening down towards me.  “Kuso.” I brought my hand back to defend against the blade that flashed as it came careening towards my body.  I managed to bring my wakizashi up to meet the blade before the other samurai had a chance to cut my hand through.  I shook as the crash of the wakizashi meeting the katana blade poured over my ears. “Iie, you shall not have my head today.”  Leaving the man’s blade embedded in my right hand, I quickly disengaged the wakizashi from the katana and thrust it forward to piece the man’s armour and deep into his body.

                I watched the man fall back, his hachi rolling to one side revealing his face.  My mind instantly failed me.

                        *                                     *                             *

When I next remembered anything, I was riding hard towards Tokyo.  The terrain was rolling gently and it had started raining.  As my horse ran, I pulled my armour off piece by piece, tying it to the rump of my horse.  I pushed my horse faster once I had stripped down to my hakama, testing the beast’s limits.  Panic consumed my mind as a flash of what happened appeared before my eyes. My wakizashi was buried to the guard in the man before me.  But there was something different about the man.  He seemed too young, his swordsmanship too poor to be experienced.  His skin was too fair, hand too unsteady.  And as I remembered him falling to the ground, hachi rolling away, I saw my mistake.

                 Aisai…please save me this time…I do not know if I can handle this on my own. My horse kicked up more and more dust behind it as the rain chased us forward.  I entered into Tokyo and frantically searched for the building I called home.   I did not take the time to tie my horse up, knowing it would stay there waiting for me.

                  My hair had fallen mostly out of the mage during the ride, and I paid no attention to the looks I knew I received as I stumbled through the building.  I was normally calm and collected.  So to see me half stumbling half running through the house must have drawn more than one or two looks.  I finally reached our apartment and knocked on the door.  My body shook and was soaked in sweat as a numbness overtook me.  I knocked again on the sliding door frame and called my wife’s name. “Aiko?”  I prayed she was there. Even though we were married, I still respected her privacy.  I also trusted her without question.  So as my mind started to shut down, I had ran to her without thinking anything of it.

                My heart was pounding as I heard her feet scraping just ever so slightly over the tatami mats in our apartment.  It was a sound only I would recognize because it was so quiet.  My green eyes looked to her when she slid the door to one side.  Relief swept through me when I saw her, along with the feeling of guilt.  I took the few steps into the room and shut the door behind me softly.  My movements were slow and shaky as I struggled to keep my wits about me.

               What had happened was returning to me, and it was the last thing that I needed to happen.  I was nearly sick with guilt as I stood there look at her, the megami in my now overturned world, my one anchor to what I knew to be true.  I felt like she could look deep into my soul and see the shame of my mistake.  I looked to the ring on her left finger and it struck me deep.  In a way, by doing what I did, I had failed her as well as all of Nihon.  She relied on me to do the right things, and I had failed that trust.  I felt the sickness crawl up my throat, burning, searing any feeling I might have had otherwise.

             I dropped to my knees, not caring that the force of my crashing against the floor would be enough to leave bruises in the morning.  A scream was wrenched from the very depths of my core, tearing the fabric of who I was as it emerged from my lips, “IIE!!!!”  I threw my arms around her waist, the sobs coming now.  My body was wracked in pain from the guilt that warred within me, trying to claim me, take my honour.

              I buried my face into the soft silk of the kimono I had bought her the previous day, staining the silver material, but it did not matter to me at the moment.  I held her as tightly as I could, trying to hold to the one thing that was real right now but without hurting her.  My whole body shook and I felt much like the empty shell of a man the clichés described.  My right fist balled into the back of her obi, while my left grasped to her slender side, not letting her move away from me.

              The tears flowed freely now as I crumpled down farther onto the floor, until I was sitting on my knees.  Though I held her tightly as I could, I could not stop the violent shaking that had overtaken my body.  I squeezed my eyes shut against her clothing, not wanting to believe what I had done and to stop the spinning of the world around me.  But the severe cut in my right hand was reminder enough that it was real.  My hair hung down around my face in disarray as it struggled to stay in the mage I had placed it in that morning.

              I felt the blood seeping from my hand into her obi and felt slightly bad for it, but I ignored it.  However, it tinged the superior guilt that plagued me, only serving to make me feel like a complete failure.  I fought down the bile that rose to just behind my tongue and struggled to breath in between the sobs.

              I kept my arms wrapped tight around her hips as my face was buried into her stomach.  My chest wheezed out breaths in between the shaking that my body could no longer suppress.  Cold seeped into my heart as my energy started to become spent.  “Shi has struck again…I did not know…” were the only words my cracked voice would strangle out as guilt constricted my windpipe further.

              “Shi has struck again…Shi has struck again…” I could not stop saying it. Though I had the reputation of being Shi no Tenshi, I hated it.  I did not want to be known for how many men I had killed, I did not want to be remembered at all.  To desire to be remembered went against the humble life I had pledged to live until the day I died.  I was merely performing my duties to His Majesty the Emperor best to my ability, I wanted no recognition.

             Just when I felt the sobs slow again, the image of the man lying slain on the ground, hachi rolled to one side, brown eyes staring blankly up at me appeared before my eyes once more.  The blood trickled out of the corner of one eye to mix with the pool of blood beneath him.  At first I had not thought anything of this; I had seen this image many times before.  I went to pull my double-edged katana from his torso and paused when the armour came with it.

             Ice flowed through my veins in an instant.  This was not the man’s armour.  “Who are you?”  My emerald eyes narrowed as I looked down to the face as if looking at it for the first time.  The features on the face were not hard by any means, they were the features of a boy, one who had not been in any battles for his skin was smooth and flesh unmarred.  Any experienced samurai would at least have some sort of cut on his face or slight marring of the skin.  The armour fell from my blade to crash back against the body jarring a tear of blood from the boy’s eye to roll down the pale cheek and joining the others bathing his body.

             His eyes were accusing, haunting.  I felt them burning through me as if they knew I was a seasoned warrior who attacked a beginner without cause.  But the truth was that he had attacked me while I was making sure that the leader had died with his honour in tact.  So though it was a warrior’s death, I had no place to take his life, a lesser experienced warrior should have had that right thus keeping all parties honour whole.

            Her presence brought me back to my frozen body.  Tears stained the silver cloth before me.  I had fallen silent while thinking back and could hear the slow drip…drip…drip of my blood hitting the floor from my right hand having already soaked the obi Aiko wore.  The dripping sound was methodic and lured me into the numbness that was starting to soak into my brain as I went into shock.

            I sat at her feet on the tatami covered floor, just staring ahead of me, willing myself not to remember.  My arms fell to my sides as I focused on something beyond the floor, blocking out everything around me.  I felt a warmth press against my face and lips as if it were trying to pull me back out of my safety.  Then the warmth was gone as was the silver color in front of me.  My breath came in jagged rasps, catching in my throat every time I expended the energy to make the attempt to breath.

            I felt the warmth wrap around my hands now, drawing me up from my kneeling position.  My body complied, not waiting for my mind to give the command to arise; everything was automatic now.  My mind was a blank canvas other than the scene repeating itself in front of my eyes.  The man coming towards me, I raise my wakizashi and plunge it into the depths of the man’s heart.  His hachi rolls off of his head when he hits the ground.

            “Shi has struck…” my voice fell silent as I followed the warmth pulling me along.  The hand it was holding, hurt severely and my blank eyes somehow saw the blood dripping from it.  My vision was hazy as I kept walking; following whatever it was that was leading me, my footsteps slow and shaky.  I felt myself being pushed back onto a hard object and wondered what was going on.  This had not happened earlier.

           The haze that my mind had been immersed in cleared slightly with that movement, and I saw that I was sitting on a stool.  I heard a slight scraping sound around me, but paid no mind to it.  As the haze claimed my vision again, all I could see was the face of the boy.  “Kodomo…gomen nasai…” I whispered as I thought I stood over the body of the young man.

            I knelt down to the boy and smoothed back his black hair making sure it was tucked neatly back into the mage.  The minimum I could do was to give him the honour of dying with the small mage he must have just been able to put up in the past few months.  As my fingers tucked the few stray strands back into the tie that held it up, I felt the bile rise in my throat again.  I could barely hold it back long enough to find what I thought was a circular hole in the ground surrounded by twigs.  I kneeled over it, gripping both sides of it and vomited releasing the bile that now burned and choked me.

            I had actually vomited into the gomibako Aiko had set next to me.  The haze still surrounded me, and I did not know this at the time.  With each heave, the haze grew clearer as if I were ridding myself of what clouded my vision.  Soon, I had emptied the contents of what was left of my stomach into the gomibako.

            Pain lanced through the haze, reaching my mind perfectly.  I looked down to my hand and saw the blood now pouring from the wound.  I had grasped something that I thought was a twig, but it was actually the rim of the gomibako.  I saw the blood from my hand running down the side of the bamboo circle pooling at the bottom.  My hair hanging in wisps, I sat there staring at the body I thought lay before me on the floor.

           The warmth was back now, breaking through the haze, calling me to it.  Beckoning me to follow it to safety. I start to follow it and then the warmth turns into a searing pain that engulfs my whole body.  I grit my teeth at first, trying to endure it as I should, as a well respected samurai should.  The truth was I wanted to scream, instead my body moved over the gomibako and tried to vomit the pain out rather than letting it out vocally.

            I shook as I sat there, the fire engulfing my hand.  I felt something move along the exposed tendons in my hand, not really touching it, but making its presence known.  I later found out that it was the water rushing around my hand as my wife placed the wounded hand into a bowl containing byakushin powder mixed in water to clean the wound.  I could not stop heaving; my body would not let me.

           The minutes passed and when it finally stopped, I looked up at my wife.  Normally, I would have been humiliated, but even in all her snittiness at times. I knew she would never hurt me purposefully.  I was sure the glazed look was still covering my eyes, because the haze was still holding me firmly.  The fire had finally waned down to a warmth and I was able to see her somewhat clearly now.  My green eyes never left her form for fear that if they did, she would disappear like a kami leaving me alone in this haze until I died.

          “Nonde,” she commanded me to drink something of which I did obediently.  The liquid burned as it slid down my raw throat.  The hand that held the decanter of sake fell limp to my side, letting the decanter fall to the floor now empty.  The haze threatened my vision once more.  I felt heat rolling down my cheeks and brought my hand up to wipe it away smearing the blood that had dried to reveal several other cuts and scratches.  They covered my body.

           The boy fabricated before my eyes once more as if he had never died.  It was just before my wakizashi blade went through his body.  I felt the tension in the blade as it pressed against the armour when I made a mistake which led me to the realization of what I had done.  I looked into the darkness of his eyes and saw the sheer terror along with the recognition of the death sentence that had been issued and who was killing him.  “I tried to stop the blade, kodomo…I did…”  I murmured as I sat there reliving the experience.  I tried to apologize to the dead boy I kept seeing before me.  I tried to bring him back through my words and mind; I tried to undo what I had done.

            I slumped down as I sat there, grief not visible as the haze surrounded me.  It beckoned to me, said that I should stay and live in its comfort.  It would hide me, protect me from reality.  I felt the tugging at my right arm as my wife held it up for me, my muscles refused to respond.  The haze clouded her outline now as I kept looking at her.  I was going to give up, and that was it.

              I smiled as I let the haze completely cloud my vision.  She would be all right; she would be taken care of with the assets I had acquired over the years.  And she would find another; she was too beautiful and exotic to be alone for long. “She does not need me. She will be okay,” the words escaped my lips as I gave into the beckoning haze.

              Just before I gave in completely, a soft delicate scent drifted around me.  What is that scent? I thought to myself as I sank further into the haze, my wife’s figure disappearing from view.  It was as if I were now seeing things through another’s eyes.  Detached.  Removed.  The image of the boy appeared in front of me again and my body tensed.  “I cannot handle this…anything else…but not this…”

              I heard words, words calling me back, fighting for me.  “Why should I come back? No one needs me…” I replied to the voice.  My body fell limp in the arms holding me.  My head now rested against something soft and welcoming.  I did not know what was going on.  It was as if the arms and voice were trying to tell me that it was okay, that killing the kodomo was not my fault.  

             As the scene replayed itself in my mind, I knew I was repeating everything I had said.  I felt completely reabsorbed into the horror of what I did.  I had stood there for a long while, just staring at the boy lying on the ground before me.  I could not tear my green eyes away from me, the life I had no right to take.  He was a boy of fourteen, fifteen maximum.  He could not have battled before.

            “He attacked you from behind” I thought to myself trying to talk myself out of the guilt I felt coursing through me.  The lavender scent surrounded me again, penetrating the memory.  There was not any lavender in this area, and it was autumn anyhow.  Lavender bloomed in the summer months.  A voice accompanied the scent, “I need you. I need you here with me, to love me.”  
            
               I looked around, eyebrow raised. How could she be there? She would not have been there on the battlefield.  I would have had a conniption fit had she been.  I did not want her anywhere near this.  She was far too precious to me to let her be out here where men were killing one another. “Aiko?”

               Following the lavender scent, I made my way through the haze, away from the memory.  I felt warmth on my mouth, and a soft tongue sweeping through it.  I took a deep breath in through my nose and moved against the lips, returning the affection.  I was still weak and could not move very well.

               The haze cleared slowly and my wife came into view again.  She was crying and it slammed against my heart as if I had been dealt a physical blow.  I reached up with my left hand weakly and wiped away her tears.  I was not able to speak yet for fear that the boy would reappear in my view and the haze overtake me again.  I knew my eyes were still cloudy and glazed because the haze still possessed most of my vision.  I took one last look at the scene behind me.  I saw the boy lying there and sent another expression of sorrow as I moved toward what I knew to be safety now.

                Inhaling the lavender scent that surrounded me, I tried to move my limp body forward to hold her, but ended up falling onto the tatami mat floors on my knees.  I had wept so hard I had nothing left to give.  My throat was raw and body aching.  My breathing was more of a wheezing rather than a fluid movement.  Bringing my hand up, I looked at the wrappings that adorned it.  I normally wore hand wrappings anyhow, but these were medicinal wrappings, made of a soft linen instead of the rough linen I usually wore to protect my hands from the un-tanned leather on the underside of my kote and interior of my gloves.  I moved my hand slightly and sat back on my legs when pain lanced up my arm piercing into my mind robbing me of breath.  I rested my head against her shoulder until the pain passed and looked up at her weakly.

                 Her hand reached up to my mage to release the binds that held what was left of it up.  I dropped my head and murmured low, “I am at my lowest, Aisai. I care not anymore.”  I had no pride, no honour. I had no right to wear the coveted mage.  My muscles were limp and I could barely hold myself up.  A frown came across my lips as I felt her hand instantly move away from my mage.

               The sake coursed through my veins yet had no drunken effects.  This was the first time it had none, my grief was too great.  The pain was now a dull ache in my hand that slowly traveled up my arm, slowly infecting each muscle with its atrocity.  I leaned against her, a fallen warrior.  A warrior with no honour.  “Get my wakizashi, His Majesty will no longer want me after this,” I barely managed to choke out.  I was going to do it and get it over with so my wife would not have to bear the burden of my shame.  I would restore her honour in taking my own life, it was how things worked.  Better my men think I died in battle, than a shamed man.  I was Shi no Tenshi after all. Does Death not have to abide by the same rules as others?

              The ritual was seppuku.  I was to impale myself on my sword and draw it horizontally then vertically.  Normally, another samurai would make a third cut and fall forward into death, however another samurai was not available so it would have to be enough.  Disgraced samurai rarely made it past the first draw of the blade.

             Aiko was not moving.  “Aiko…my wakizashi...please.  I cannot let you live with my disgrace. I will not do that to you.”  I could not look into her eyes as she moved around me and tried to hold my gaze.  Then again, I could barely hold my own body up.  My muscles were like a green tree, weak and flimsy.  My breaths were slow and purposefully drawn, goring more painful with each contraction of my diaphragm. The numbness still encased my mind.  I knew what I had to do being a fallen warrior.  Even his Highness would turn his nose at me and order me to take my own life.  I would rather die here and now, in the arms of the one I loved rather than live dishonoured or die alone.

             “Iie!  You cannot give up.  Let the Emperor decide for himself if he still wants you, though I have no doubt that he will.  And there is no disgrace for me to live with.  I may not know what happened on the battlefield, but only an honourable man would care as much as you do.  There is no need of seppuku.”  Her words ran clear in my muddled mind.

             I raised my eyes to look at her directly best I could.  My lips and jaw were set, gaze fixed and determined.  “Aiko…I killed a kodomo.  How is that not dishonouring? Anata wa kuruoshii desuka? I went against what I am supposed to stand for, everything I am! And this,” I held my hand up between our faces, “shall serve as a reminder everyday for the rest of my shamed life.  I failed to serve and protect.  How can I not be disgraced?”  I sat there, holding my wrapped hand in front of her face, palm facing her.  Coherence was coming back to me slowly, yet, in my panic stricken state, I did not see the wisdom in her words.  I did not flinch as I looked into her eyes, no longer afraid of the thing I had been accused of being. Death.

              Her voice was soft as her brown eyes fell upon my green ones. “Did you know that it was a child?  Did the child attack you?” she asked gesturing to my hand. “I know you Hiro. I know you would not kill a child in cold blood, or any other for that matter.  You may be Shi no Tenshi, but even Shi has a caring heart, and speeds a person to the next life with swift kindness”

              I did not speak for a long time as my mind processed her words.  I knew she was right (she usually was), that it was not my fault that I did not know that a kodomo was hiding behind a man’s armour.  “Hai… he attacked me. He had caught me unaware while I was making sure the man I had just sent to the beyond had been sent with his honour in tact.” My words were murmured as I sat with my hand being held by my wife, pouring my soul out to her.  I would do this normally, but this time it was different.  This time it was as if she were willing to bear the burden of this horror with me, as if she had been there with me plunging my blade into the boy’s heart.  It was amazing to me that she would do that when she had taken no part in it.  It restored a bit of hope in me.

             “I heard the katana cutting though the air behind me.  I had to grab the blade to slow it down so I could bring my wakizashi up to stop his blade from cutting more than my hand.  Thankfully I brought it up before he cut my hand off.” I looked down a bit.  “I left my hand up with his dull blade still embedded in it.”  My throat constricted more, my eyes grew misty.  “He was shocked that I did that and managed to disengage quick enough to catch him in the stomach.”

              Silence reigned for a few moments until Aiko brushed her lips against my linen wrapped palm.  My breath caught in my throat, my heart skipped in its normal rhythm then picked up, and I knew my eyes went glassy, but this time it was different.  Even after five years of being together to various degrees, she still managed to do that to me.

              I looked over for a moment to the cherry touka mounted on the wall next to the sliding door.  It had the seven kanji of the bushido code carved into it, Rectitude, Courage, Benevolence, Respect, Honesty, Honor, and Loyalty.  The kanji stood out against the dark cherry being stained a light pine colour.  
          
             Aiko must have noticed I was looking at them and another wave of guilt swept through me at the stark reminder of my mistake, because she spoke quickly.  “You still live by them Kihou,” she told me. “You exhibited compassion by giving the kodomo a swift death instead of a lingering one.  Respect by caring that he and the other you had killed maintained their honor, even in death, as well as showing honour by doing the same and feeling regret.  Courage was shown in the swift death as well as keeping your wits about you when you were attacked unaware.  You show honesty now by sharing the burden with me.  Rectitude and Loyalty are both shown by your willingness to commit seppuku, to give your life in honour of the kodomo and out of loyalty and respect for the Emperor for this disgrace you feel but is not there.”  She paused for a moment allowing me to hear all of her words.  “Hirotoshi, you gave the kodomo a warrior’s death, and honourable death.  How can you find shame in that?”

             I felt the guilt sweep through me, trying to keep its claim on me as my mind fought back.  She was right.  How could I find disgrace in something that I had followed through upon?  There was no logical reason that I could.  It still bothered me that I had killed a kodomo.  A young man at that, even though he attacked me, deserved to be killed by someone with the same experience that he had. Not killed by a seasoned warrior with skills far superior than his own.

             I did not know what to do.  I wanted to weep more, release the pain contained within me.   But I already gave everything I had to give, but I felt as if it were not enough.  My eyes burned, hand felt like it had been placed into a blazing fire and forgotten.  My muscles were slack as she cradled my injured hand.  I felt like the empty shell of the man I had been just hours before now, like I had nothing left.  I just sat there, breathing slowly, trying to regain my strength.

            I felt a cold breeze as Aiko pushed off my shirt. I helped her by shrugging slightly.  Her fingers brushed across my skin as she pushed the shirt off and I drew comfort from the soft kiss she placed at the end of the scar that adorned my torso.  The scar ran diagonally upwards from the right side of my waist to my left shoulder.  My twin had given it to me the first night Aiko had given herself to me.  After a night of the usual conversation, caressing, and flirting, I was shocked when she led me to her apartment and pushed off my shirt much like she had just done.  Toutoi, my twin, found us together on her futon, and having a strong affection for my Aiko and being drunk, drew his weapon.  He lunged forward towards her, intending to mutilate her so that no man would want her exotic beauty any longer.  I leapt from the futon and took the blade’s arch for her.

            I remember her scream as his blade crossed my skin.  The pain had not hit me yet.  After the blade passed by my head, I deftly grabbed his wrist.  I twisted his wrist around causing the tendons to strain and the carpals to grind against one another.  Toutoi dropped the blade and stared at me. I murmured his name, my ice green eyes falling on him, a silent death sentence.  Aiko rushed forward to kick, bite, and scratch him for spilling my blood on her floor, but I knew it was because he had spilt my blood…period.  I had instantly dropped his wrist and held her back.  “Baka!  Get out of here!  LEAVE NOW!!” I heard her scream at Toutoi as he ran out of the room.  She had been careful in her stitching when she cleaned and treated my wound, but it still scarred.  I wore it with pride because it proved to the ones who would see it, that I could protect what was mine.

             I felt her tugging me to my feet and her hands massaging my aching muscles. Sighing softly, I stood there, letting her massage as she please, drawing comfort from each touch.  I felt her remove my tabi and then my hakama letting it fall to the floor around my ankles.  I watched her as she took my uninjured hand and pulled me into the bathing chamber she had designed specifically for me.  The walls were made of a dark cherry wood, and flooring of the same.  She closed the rice paper doors behind her. I was numb as I walked, I did not feel the wood beneath my feet. All I felt was the cold air of the apartment rushing against my bare flesh as it started to seep in.

             You killed a kodomo, Toshi… My stomach churned as the haze that still surrounded the edges of my vision called back to me. The image of the boy once again flashed before my eyes. I clenched my fists and was satisfied when a lightning bolt of pain shot up my arm.  This was baka. How could I feel it was okay that I had killed a kodomo? It went against who I was what I stood for…every…every moral I held close to me with my entire being. I took a shaky breath in, remembering my wife’s words of how I could not be ashamed for something that I could not prevent. I had not known that it was a kodomo hiding behind samurai’s armour as I plunged my wakizashi forward through the plates of metal and hardened leather. There was no possible way I could have known. My wife was right and I had to remind myself of that constantly. I gritted my teeth, jaw clenching and relaxing with each wave of pressing guilt. I was sick about this. I did not deserve to be here with her.

                She reached up and released the leather thong that held my hair back in the mage I had put it in that morning. I leaned my head into her hands as she ran her fingers through my waist length black hair, detangling it the best she could. “I believe a bath will help you, it will wash away the pain, the memories. It will clear your head,” her light voice washed over my ears, drawing me back to reality. She had gone to retrieve a bowl of warm water and a cloth.

             I hissed and winced slightly as she ran the damp cloth over my body exposing wounds I had received when riding through thorns on the way back without my armour on. Just nicks and scratches, but they still stung when she ran the sandalwood soap over them. I smiled when she remembered that I loved the sandalwood soap. It showed me that she cared enough to remember, and my mind reprocessed her words. I believe in you… her soft voice echoed in my head fighting off the grief and haze that again threatened my mind. Does she? Does his Highness actually need me? I did not know as another wave of guilt washed over me.

            Her hands on my body lured me back into the fog. I had awoke that morning with hopes that this would be a successful mission and that nothing this extreme would happen. I took a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of the sandalwood wafting from her delicate hands. The chemicals in the scent flowed into my lungs, soothing the raw windpipe that lead to them. She moved down my body, cleaning every scratch she found carefully. Another hiss of pain escaped my lips and I instantly regretted it as I saw her wince.

             “Gomen nasai,” I muttered as she continued to wash me. This went beyond the codes of conduct held within the Samurai pledge. I was to live selflessly, give everything I had to better those around me, and here I was…taking yet again. I took the kodomo’s life; I was allowing Aiko to wash the dried blood from my body that I was too weak to wash myself. I was not worthy of any of this.

             She moved to grasp a vial of shampoo and tilted my head back. I looked up at her, eyes questioning why she still cared about me enough to do this after what happened. She asked me to close my eyes and I obliged. I felt the cold liquid being scrubbed into my scalp by her nails and leaned into it. She had a certain confidence that I clung to now that I was at my lowest. It seemed to restore a certain hope in my body that I thought I had lost. As her nails raked over my scalp, it was as if she were massaging her words into my mind. If she thought that I was in the wrong for killing the kodomo, she would not do this for me. I knew she would not. If she still believed in me…would my men?

            A knock at the door sounded twice then once more. “Aiko. That is Sato…” I felt her pause on my scalp as I spoke. “Please ask him what he wants then ask him to leave…” I knew he would want to tell me they were relieving me of my station because they had seen what happened and were ashamed of me. He would also want to know why I had not performed seppuku yet.

          Ice filled my veins as she went to answer the door by rolling it aside.

          “Nanika?’

          “Konnichiwah, Takamoto-sama. Is Hirotoshi here?” I heard the material of his clothing rustled as he bowed to her. I had to smile as he showed her the same respect he showed me, if not more. I always admired him for that.

          Her voice drifted over to me, low and calculated. “Hai, but I am sorry he is busy. What do you want?” I smelled the rain that soaked his clothing and suspected the low rumble I was hearing on the roof was the storm that had threatened us earlier.

          “I know what happened today and,” Sato paused. I could hear the grimace in his voice. He must have noticed the blood on the floor, “I wanted you to tell him something if you would. I also wanted to bring his armour to him. It is raining outside and it would be bad to leave such quality out there to be ruined.”

          “He does not wish to see anyone. He asked that I request you to leave.”

           “Here…” I heard the clinking of the armour as he handed it to her. I was glad my men were this considerate. Any lesser man would let it stay bound to the horse as I had left it. The way he spoke told me that he had stabled my horse as well. “I understand Takamoto-sama. Can you please tell him that we do not blame him? He got so upset so quickly we could not stop him from leaving to come back here.”  They do not blame me?  I felt a huge burden lift from my shoulders and hope reentered my mind once more.

          “Arigatou. I shall tell him, and I understand. He is not taking it well, but I hope this will help.” I heard her walk to one side slightly as she sat my armour down by the rack it went on. The slap of wet wood against one another drew my attention. I sat up slightly and looked at the rice paper wall as if I could see through to the people beyond them.

            “Here are his daisho.” The wooden sheaths knocked together as he handed them to my wife when she returned to the door. “We cleaned them so he would not have to be reminded of what happened. He gave the boy a warrior’s death. I hope he realizes that.” I heard Aiko shift the swords in her small hands. She had always been able to hold them but they were heavy and it had always been difficult.

           “Domo arigatou gozimashita Sato-san. I truly appreciate the consideration you show my husband. It shall not be forgotten.”

           “Jaa nee, Takamoto-sama.” His voice faded down the hallway as I heard the door slide shut. The realization started to dawn over me. The haze cleared around my vision as I heard Aiko walking back towards the bathing chamber. The boy attacked me from behind, shaming himself before the fight begun. I was the one to restore his honour. I thought to myself as I moved to sit back on the stool with my head in my hands. They were right. It was not my fault. I had been the one to restore the youth’s honour. My own honour had never been touched.

           I heard the door slide open to the bathing chamber after Aiko replaced my armour in the proper way and smiled when she came in, rubbing my right eye when the shampoo rolled down into it. Her laughter graced my ears as she spoke. “You do realize that you wouldn’t have gotten the soap in your eye had you not moved, correct?” Her hand went to cover her lips as it always did. The geisha ways of coyness persisted in her even now all these years later. It was one of the reasons why I loved her. She could be so serious at times, but others charming.

            I smiled sheepishly and nodded in agreement. “Hai, I do. Gomen nasai, Aisai.” She rinsed my hair and took her time with the bone brush I had bought her shortly after we were married, brushing my hair until it was dry after helping me into the casual yukata I always wore. Once finished she smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck from behind. “Do you feel better?” the lighthearted tone in her voice lifted my spirits even further.

          I did not reply. I simply rested my hand on hers and side of my head against her hair for a moment then got up and walked over to the touka looking between it and my daisho. Aiko believed in me. My men believed in me. No one questioned my actions, so why should I hold such blame over my own head. If they did not blame me, I had no grounds to blame myself. I took up my katana in my injured hand and placed it in the grooves that held it with great care. I then looked down at the wakizashi, the same blade that had been lodged in the kodomo when I left. I picked it up gingerly and placed it in the touka with a respect for the blade I had never held before in my twenty eight years of life. I assumed the responsibility of being Samurai again, putting aside the shame of a single mistake that could not have been prevented.

             My lips wore a smirk as I turned back to my wife as she sat on her shins on the futon. “Hai, much better.” I went to the side of the futon and ran my fingers down her cheek to cup her chin in my hand. I kneeled down with her and kissed her deep only to break the kiss a moment later. “Arigatou, Aisai.” I smirked as I laid her back onto the futon, deftly pulling her obi free so I could expose the skin I had come to crave underneath.

Glossary
Aisai- What a husband would call a wife who meant more to him than life itself.
Anata wa kuruoshii desuka- Are you crazy?
Arigatou- An informal way of saying thank you.
Baka- Crazy, Moron, Imbecile
Byakushin powder- An ancient antiseptic.
Bushido- A member of the warrior class. a feudal-military Japanese code of behavior valuing honor above life
Daimyo- A feudal lord.
Daisho- Both of a Samurai’s swords. A collective term.
Domo arigatou gozimashita- The most formal way to say Thank You. Used between acquaintances or strangers.
Gomen Nasai- Informal way to say I am sorry. The familiar way to say it.
Gomibako- A trash can.
Hachi- A Samurai’s helmet.
Hai- A way to say yes.
Hakama- The pants men would wear in ancient Japan.
Iie- A way to say no.
Jaa nee- Good Bye.
Katana- A curved blade used in the right hand while the wakizashi is used in the left.
Kami- One the Shinto deities (including mythological beings, spirits of distinguished men, forces of nature). This is the generic term.
Kihou- What a wife would call her husband. The equivalent of “dear.”
Kimono- A long robe with wide sleeves traditionally worn with an obi as an outer garment by the Japanese.
Kodomo- Child.
Konnichiwah- Hello.
Kote- Arm guards.
Kuso- The equivalent of the English word Shit.
Kuwagata- Stylized horns often used to display rank.
Mage- Pronounced mah-gay. It is a top-knot.
Megami- Goddess.
Mempo- The face mask of the helmet.
Nanika- To ask the question what?
Nihon- The ancient term for Japan.
Obi- A broad sash worn especially with a Japanese kimono.
Sama- The proper way to address a married woman.
Samurai- A military retainer of a Japanese daimyo practicing the code of conduct of bushido. Also, the warrior aristocracy of Japan.
Shi- Death.
Shi no Tenshi- Angel of Death.
Tabi- Split-toed socks worn with the traditional sandals.
Tatami- Straw matting used as a floor covering in a Japanese home.
Touka- A sword rack.
Wakizashi- A short sword fought with the left hand.
Yukata- A lightweight kimono style outfit consisting of a pair of pants and a shirt.