It is Tuesday already - that means it is time for a new chapter! In case you are just joining us, here is the link to Chapter One...for the rest of you, Chapter Five awaits.
Interlude
In his home under the
ocean, Susanoo capered with glee. After centuries of searching the
key to regaining his father's favor had finally appeared. In response
to his mood the seas foamed, monstrous waves toppling fishing fleets
and washing away villages. The people crowded into the shrines,
praying to Amaterasu to calm her brother's ire and protect them.
The sun goddess stretched
languidly. She was torn between her desire to save her people, and
her aversion to spending time in Susanoo's presence. Duty won out and
she reluctantly made her way to his underwater home to plead her
case.
"Brother, calm
yourself. You threaten to destroy all that our father created.”
"Like I care about
those puny islands or the pitiful worms who inhabit them. My grand
plan will soon take effect, then the people's hearts will turn to me
and you will be forgotten.
"Unlikely. Beauty will
always triumph over brutality.” Amaterasu turned her back on her
sibling and ascended to her rightful place in the heavens.
Dai Go Shou
Dawn spread fingers of
fire across the heavens, ribbons of rosy light painting abstract
patterns on the shoji and rousing Hiroshi from a restless sleep.
"Time for morning
kata.” Kenshin's too cheery greeting rattled the bones of his
apprentice's skull.
"It's barely dawn. Why
do we have to start so early?” Hiroshi groaned, pulling the covers
over his face and snuggling deeper into the futon.
"The day is most
productive when it starts with exercise.” Kenshin yanked the covers
off his slumbering apprentice, prodding him off the futon with his
foot. “We rise at this time every day, I'm sure in time you will
get used to it.”
"I seriously doubt
that.” Hiroshi scrubbed a hand across his eyes, squinting up at the
mirthful face of his master. “You are getting far too much
enjoyment out of this.”
"What do you usually do
in the morning?”
"I sleep through the
morning, like any civilized person.” The curt reply was a sharp
contrast to the whirlwind hair and pillow creases marring otherwise
perfect cheekbones. “Couldn't we skip morning practice and start
after lunch?”
"And then you'll want
to wait until evening. You've spent enough years dawdling in bed,
time to actually do something.” A strong hand latched onto
Hiroshi's rumpled yukata and heaved him to his feet. “Your father
expects me to turn you into a warrior. Get dressed and meet me in the
dojo. The sooner we start, the sooner you get breakfast.”
The strappy ties on his
hakama were a puzzle he couldn't decode in his half asleep state.
Forty minutes passed before Hiroshi entered the dojo, hair roughly
scraped back into a bushy tail, hakama tied in an impatient knot
barely restraining his crumpled yukata. The sight of his new master
peacefully meditating, hair and garments perfectly arranged, was
enough to drive him to despair.
"I see you finally made
it.” Dark eyes opened to study his reluctant student. “Tomorrow I
will expect you to join me for meditation. Clarity of mind is crucial
for productive training.”
"Clarity of mind
assumes I am actually awake,” Hiroshi quipped. “I'm not sure that
is possible so early in the morning.”
Kenshin's laugh was open
and unexpected. “Let's get started.” He selected a bokken from
the weapons rack. “Show me what you know.” He handed the wooden
sword to his student, ignoring the electric tingle that rushed
through him when their fingers brushed.
Hiroshi wobbled through
the first of the simple kata he remembered, conscious of the poor
showing he was making. As much as he disliked the warrior arts he
wanted to make a good impression on the man who was giving up so much
to train him. His attention was focused on Kenshin's reaction,
further distracting him from what he should have been doing.
"Just stop,” Kenshin
snapped. “Obviously we need to start at the beginning.” He
snatched the bokken from lax fingers. “Lesson number one, how to
properly hold a sword. Like this, see, all the work is done by these
fingers, the others are just a guide.”
He handed the weapon back
and watched critically as his apprentice tried to duplicate what he
had been shown. “Better, but more space between your hands. It's a
lever, you get more power that way.” Calloused fingers wrapped
around Hiroshi's pampered digits, sparking another frisson at the
contact.
The next few hours passed
in a blur. When Kenshin finally called a halt the bokken needed to be
pried out of his student's hands. “I think I'll be doing that cut
in my sleep,” Hiroshi grumbled.
"Just make sure you
soak your hands after we eat. I wouldn't want you to be unable to
practice tomorrow.”
"Are we done for
today?” The hopeful look directed in Kenshin's direction had him
feeling momentarily guilty.
"We're done for this
morning. Let's get something to eat and then we'll work on hand to
hand skills for awhile.”
"How many of hours do
you practice each day?”
"That depends on my
duties. Eight to ten hours when I'm home, less if we're in the
field.”
"Just kill me now,”
Hiroshi declared. “There's no way I'll survive the week.”
* * *
The daimyo stared at the
captain of his guard in disbelief. “Yes, Hiroshi's assignation was
unseemly. That does not give you leave to assault his whore. The
issue was settled, but now...well, now I'm waiting for the backlash.
If this turns messy it is on your head.”
"But if you'd seen him.
All painted up like a geisha and proud of it. Vanity like that is
understandable in a woman, in a man it's an insult.”
"At least tell me you
didn't kill him.” The daimyo's hand clenched on the hilt of his
katana. The urge to punish this man for undermining his plan was
nearly overwhelming. Several deep calming breaths passed while he
waited for an answer.
"He was breathing when
we left. Do you honestly expect me to go check on the creature?”
"Check on him. Get him
to a healer if need be. Hiroshi will fly to his defense if he finds
out and then all my efforts to separate them will be for naught. If
you need further incentive keep in mind I just apprenticed my son to
Yakushi-san. I imagine he would react strongly to anyone hurting his
charge.”
"How did you trick
Kenshin into taking your brat under his wing? He's turned down a
dozen apprentices that I know of.”
"It was a lifetime
favor. Why do you think I'm so determined it works out? Now go find
that actor and make sure he'll keep his mouth shut. And not by
killing him.” The daimyo turned and strode out of the hall, leaving
his guard to figure out how to undo the damage.
* * *
By the time night fell
Hiroshi was more exhausted than he thought possible. The afternoon
passed in a blur, 'falling training' mostly consisted of Kenshin
throwing him into things at high speed. His bruises were bruised. All
he could think of was a long soak followed by sleeping for a week.
When he failed to appear
for dinner Kenshin went looking. The last thing he needed was his
apprentice escaping from his home on the first day. When he went to
check the bathhouse he found his wayward pupil sound asleep in the
furo, head barely above the water line. His fingers hovered above
black clouds and half a flower intricately inked on an exposed
shoulder. Of all the secrets his student held, this was one he never
expected. “Oi, wake up, time for dinner.”
Hiroshi woke in a world
of pain. The hot water did little to relieve the ache of muscles
pushed far beyond their usual bounds. “Huh, what?”
"I would not have
expected you to have a tattoo. Such a rebellious student I've managed
to end up with. Sakura at dawn, and done by an irezumi master.”
"It's permanent, of
course I went to a master.” Kenshin's gentle teasing picked at his
student's last thread of patience. “Is nothing in my life private
anymore?”
"Not from me.”
The smug smile on his
master's face pushed the normally reserved Hiroshi over the edge.
“You have got to be kidding me. As if being relegated to this
mausoleum isn't enough, now you're spying and prying for my father as
well?”
"My questions are my
own,” Kenshin retorted. “And what I find is for me as well. You
flatter yourself. A boy like you isn't worthy of such a grand plot.
Now get out and dress, our dinner is getting cold.” He reached out
to give Hiroshi a hand, only to have his arm slapped away.
"I'm perfectly capable
of getting out of a tub on my own. Now turn around, I don't need you
ogling me.”
"You think an awful lot
of yourself. Why sakura? I would have pegged you for a dragon or
perhaps yokai. Something more obviously manly, in any event.”
"It was Jun's
suggestion,” Hiroshi admitted. “He thought it suited my
personality.”
"Indeed.” Kenshin
stepped behind his student, tracing the pattern with calloused
fingers. “It is beautiful. New life from the darkness. I approve.”
"Thank you, I guess.
Not that I need your approval.”
"Sit.” Kenshin pushed
his student down onto the bathing stool, then knelt in front of him.
“I want you to be able to walk tomorrow.” Strong fingers began
kneading tired feet, pushing into tender arches until they relaxed.
“Next time tell me when I'm pushing you too hard.”
"I did. You laughed at
me.”
"My
apologies, I forget not everyone works themselves as hard as I do.”
Knotted calves gradually eased under the insistent pressure, and
Hiroshi groaned, curling into the painful bliss. “After we eat I'll
give you some lineament for your hands. It will toughen the skin so
it doesn't tear. For now we will alternate days, swordsmanship one
day, hand to hand the next. Just until you get used to the routine.”
"I'll try harder, I
promise.”
"You did very well for
your first day. I just set my expectations too high. We will find a
balance, I'm sure.” Kenshin stood and hoisted him to his feet.
“Better? Do you think you can walk to the table?”
"I'll manage. Give me a
few minutes to dress and I'll join you.”
Over dinner they spoke of
inconsequential things. Their mutual disdain for the pageantry of
rule had them giggling into their cups at Hiroshi's uncanny mimicry
of some of the daimyo's advisors. For the first time Kenshin thought
that, perhaps, this arrangement might work out and he let go of some
of his lingering resentment over the change in his routine.
* * *
Hiroshi
was exhausted, yet sleep eluded him. All his plans of sleeping for a
week fled the moment he stretched out on the futon. Instead of
wandering in the land of dreams his mind kept flashing pictures of
his new mentor. His cock lay hot and heavy against his thigh,
stirring to life at the thought of the corded muscles of Kenshin's
back. Yet again he couldn't help but wonder if his new master's ass
was as impressively sculpted. So
he's attractive. Lots of men are. Jun is devoted to me. I owe him my
fidelity.
Despite his internal
monologue, the nagging thoughts of Kenshin unguarded, eyes dark with
lust and twinkling with amusement, niggled at his control. Hiroshi's
cock twitched against his thigh, filling with blood against his
wishes. He wrapped his hand around his straining erection, a squeeze
and a single stroke from balls to tip had him arching off the futon
with a passionate sigh. Another slow stroke further inflamed his
passion. The thought of his new master overhearing him masturbating
evoked a strange mixture of lust and embarrassment, and he bit his
lip in an effort to stifle any further suspicious noises.
His eyes fluttered shut,
his cock swelling as he pictured Jun sprawled naked on tangled
sheets. Despite his intentions, the man he pictured grew taller and
heavier, sleekly feminine features growing more rugged the closer he
came to orgasm.
* * *
Kenshin listened to the
sound of his apprentice pleasuring himself, oblivious to the fact
that paper walls did nothing to keep his actions private. The steady
strokes and occasional low moan only served to remind him just how
long it had been since he'd sought release with another. Hiroshi had
made his displeasure with such an arrangement between them crystal
clear. As unappealing as the prospect was, perhaps the time had come
to seek out a temporary assignation. His friends had spoken highly of
the local pleasure district. Anything would be preferable to spending
his nights listening to the sound of masturbation.
He tried to remember the
last time he had even thought about sex, let alone touched himself.
In the first few years after his master's death it had been a common
practice. But as time passed he found his thoughts turning in that
direction less and less. As best he could recall, it had been at
least a year, possibly more.
So
it's settled,
he decided. Tomorrow
I will go and see if the willow world holds anyone of interest to me.
