Jun was pulled from his misery by the sound of footsteps on the engawa. “You came back.” He ran out into the hall to greet his lover, only to find the entry filled with soldiers. “How dare you break into a lady's home,” he hissed. “Leave at once.”
“We are here to collect Murakami-san's belongings. Step aside or we will have to restrain you,” the leader of the group explained.
The soldiers filled the space, pawing through chests to create a messy pile of male clothing. “Stop that,” Jun shrieked, throwing himself against the nearest samurai in an attempt to snatch back the garments clenched in his fist.
“You would be smart not to fight us,” the leader of the squad insisted. “We would prefer not to restrain you.”
“Take your hands off Hiroshi's things. He'll punish you for this insolence.”
“Murakami-san will not be returning.” The commander's grip on Jun tightened. “His father will no longer tolerate this assignation. Hiroshi is being sent to live with Yakushi-sama. It is past time for him to be trained in the way of budo. Do yourself a favor and forget you ever met, for it is certain you will never meet again.”
“Hiroshi would never abandon me,” Jun sobbed. “We are eternal lovers. We swore never to be parted.”
“That is not a promise he was free to make to a woman like you. The daimyo's heir needs a match worthy of his family name. No street whore, no matter how lovely, could ever hope to win his hand.”
“I am no whore.” Jun rose to his full height, glaring imperiously at the men surrounding him.
“You aren't a woman, either,” the guard realized. “Hey, this girl is a man.” The atmosphere in the room turned dark. The samurai amused themselves by shoving Jun back and forth between them, stripping off layers with each pass. Finally he was naked except for remnant face paint smeared across his cheek and a single kanzashi caught in the tangle of his hair.
“You'll pay for this.” Jun found himself pressed onto the tatami, rough hands leaving bruises on soft flesh. His protests faded under the onslaught, all his energy focused on weathering the storm.
One by one the soldiers took their turn, filling Jun's mouth or ass. He gagged as semen blocked his throat, thrashing and coughing. His lips were turning blue when he finally vomited up the contents of his stomach on the man currently using him. The punch to the head that followed rendered him unconscious, not that his abusers cared.
When the last of them had taken his pleasure they gathered Hiroshi's things and left. The battered man on the tatami would never again be thought beautiful. And deep in his ocean lair, Susanoo smiled.