Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/345360.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Adam_Lambert_(Musician)
  Relationship:
      Adam_Lambert/Tommy_Ratliff
  Character:
      Adam_Lambert, Tommy_Ratliff
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Historical, Pederasty
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-23 Words: 45477
****** Wakashudo: The Way of Youth ******
by maybe77
Summary
     Adam is a samurai in turn-of-the-17th century Japan. Tommy becomes
     his apprentice.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
[http://i1233.photobucket.com/albums/ff383/silverdreams42/bb/lbb2/lbb2-art-
main.jpg]
Chapter 1
Tommy had always dreamed of becoming a great samurai warrior, since he was old
enough to pick up tree-branch swords in the meadow and mock-battle the children
from neighboring farms. Samurai were brave, loyal, fierce, strong. Tommy was
not these things, but, if he were a samurai, maybe he could be.
A few days before Tommy turned nine years of age, his father asked him what
gift he might like for his birthday, “now that you are nearly a
man?”
“I want to be a samurai,” Tommy had said, and waited with the
naïve hopefulness of youth for his father to concede. Instead, his father
told him one could not simply become a samurai. There were bloodlines to be
followed and traditions to be upheld, and the son of a rice farmer was destined
for a different path. Tommy’s birthday gift was a sturdy new pair of
boots to wear in the paddies.
After that day, Tommy put aside his dream and set his mind to inheriting the
farm and working the land like his father and his father’s father. This
is what I was born for, he told himself. What do I know of swords and battle?
He still pretended with his friends, but with little heart in it; it was too
much to make himself believe a tree branch to be a katana. In the evenings, he
paid closer attention when his father talked about the crops during the evening
meal.
Then, shortly after Tommy’s twelfth birthday, that which he thought
beyond his reach was suddenly laid at his feet.
A few months prior, Tommy’s father had done a great service for the
local feudal lord, the daimyo. Though the civil wars that had torn through
Japan for the past 150 years were over, many small groups remained disgruntled
with the rule of the new Shogun, Ieyasu Tokugawa. The monks of the nearby
Buddhist temple were one such faction of malcontents, angered that the
Shogun’s military power marginalized the god-given influence the monks
wielded over the commoners.
The monks had approached Tommy’s father, who owned the most expansive
rice paddies in the daimyo’s lands, and as such held no small amount of
sway. The monks would reward him with land and gold if he helped convince the
other farmers to join their revolt. Instead of siding with them, Tommy’s
father betrayed the monks to the daimyo, Lord Lambert, who sent his son to
dispatch the leaders of their rebellion.
“I do not care to join the monk’s skirmishes over power,”
Tommy’s father had told him as they sat around the hearth. “I
swore my fealty to Lord Lambert many years ago, and I will not dishonor my
family by betraying that oath.”
Tommy was young, but he knew his father’s actions were to be admired. He
had chosen honor and loyalty over profit. Even as pride in his father bloomed
in his chest, in secret Tommy hoped to never face such a difficult choice when
this farm one day was his. In truth, he preferred helping his mother cook to
weighing decisions of politics. Further evidence, he thought, of why he was not
born a warrior.
But, when Lord Lambert arrived to reward Tommy’s father for his loyalty,
Tommy learned that birthright was not the only way to become a samurai.
Tommy’s family would receive two horses, twenty chickens and would be
exempt from paying taxes and tributes for five years. Lord Lambert’s
most generous gift, however, was for Tommy himself: the daimyo’s son was
a full-fledged samurai, and was ready for an apprentice.
“Your family is strong and honorable,” Lord Lambert had said to
Tommy’s father. “Your son is of age to begin apprenticeship. He
would make an excellent warrior.”
Tommy’s father fell to his knees in front Lord Lambert as Tommy watched,
nervous and trembling with disbelief. “My son is clever and strong and
loyal,” Tommy’s father said as he bowed low to the daimyo, his
face nearly touching the floor. “It will be a great honor to my family
to apprentice him to your son.”
Tommy froze. He wanted to flee, or protest, tell them they were wrong about
him, that he simply could not… But before he was able to speak up,
Tommy’s father called him over to introduce him to the daimyo. The
man’s intense gray eyes studied him, weighing him the way a farmer could
weigh a pound of rice, by sight alone. “Lithe,” the daimyo had
said as Tommy tried his best to hide his fear and doubt and remain still under
Lord Lambert’s scrutiny. “Diffident. He will make a very
interesting counterpoint to my son. Bring him to the castle tomorrow.”
Tommy slept little that night, and when day broke his pillow was still damp
with tears.
In the morning Tommy’s father saddled the two horses they had received
from the daimyo. “Come, Tommy, your service to Lord Lambert’s son
begins today. Keep in mind the route, you will have to ride back on your own
tonight.” Tommy had traveled to the daimyo’s castle before, even
farther than that, but he had never ridden such a distance alone. It was one
more uncertainty to add to the cloud of doubt in his mind as they rode south.
His father was quiet for most of the ride. The castle had already risen up
above the treetops before he spoke. “You begin by serving on the
daimyo’s estate. You will go to the castle every morning and return home
every evening. The daimyo’s son will give you duties to perform, and in
doing so he will begin training your body and your mind long before you are
taught to wield a sword.”
When they arrived at the castle, the daimyo’s son was waiting at the
gates. Tommy’s father dismounted his horse, and Tommy followed suit.
“Master Lambert, this is my son, Thomas. I present him to begin his
service as your apprentice. Will you have him?”
Tommy looked up, close enough now that the castle was blocking the morning sun
and he could see in vivid detail the warrior, larger-than-life, towering over
him. Tommy had only seen a samurai fully outfitted in his armor once before,
when Lord Lambert had returned home victorious from fighting alongside Lord
Tokugawa at Sekigahara, the last great battle to unite Japan. Tommy had been
only six years old then, watching from afar as the daimyo marched through the
prefecture with his full retinue.
Now, this samurai loomed above him, looking down from underneath his black iron
helmet, the thin metal covered over by elaborate brocade fabric in black with
gold and red cranes. He seemed otherworldly, almost a demon, with his
father’s intense gray eyes and his helmet topped with curved gold horns.
The cuirass, the skirt and the shin protectors were fashioned of iron slats
woven together with red cording, and decorated over with various silken and
metal ornaments and adornments that Tommy could not begin to guess the meaning
or origin of.
But for all the decoration and massiveness of the armor and the man, Tommy
could not tear his eyes from the swords. Master Lambert had both his long and
short swords fastened to his belt, in customary samurai fashion. The hilt of
the long katana was a smooth and polished ivory; the hilt of the dagger-like
wakizashi was shaped identically, but it looked forged of pure gold. He
wondered how many men those blades had slain, how the steel looked coated in
thick drying blood. He swallowed over the lump in his throat and prayed that he
was not shaking so much they could see.
The daimyo’s son knelt before Tommy and studied him. He reached out and
gently grasped Tommy’s chin, turned his face to the side and then back
so their eyes met. In his entire life Tommy had never been so awestruck nor so
frightened. He blushed and dropped his gaze.
“Your son, he seems to come from weak stock,” the daimyo’s
son said dismissively, as though Tommy were some head of livestock up for
barter.
The samurai’s words set off an anger that burned through Tommy’s
fear. He jumped back and locked eyes with the samurai, his shoulders tense and
his hands clenched. “Begging your pardon, Master Lambert, but my father
is a strong man and it is disrespectful of you to say otherwise.”
“Thomas!” his father barked, but Master Lambert merely laughed
and stood, brushing the dust from his knee. He looked at Tommy as he spoke.
“Perhaps I was wrong, Thomas. You seem spirited indeed, and quite
loyal.” He turned to face Tommy’s father. “Very well, I
accept your son as my apprentice.”
They both turned to Tommy, whose indignation had faded into confusion. But they
were staring at him and he panicked for a moment before he remembered what he
was meant to do. He dropped to both knees and bowed low before the
daimyo’s son. “It brings me great honor to swear my fealty to
you, Master.”
The daimyo’s son bade Tommy rise. The formalities were complete. The men
spoke for a few moments as Tommy waited nervously, shuffling in the dust and
pretending to study the stone foundation of the castle.
It was a modest castle, only three stories; no more was needed. Perched in the
foothills of the mountains, the fortress’s north and east sides bordered
on nearly impenetrable rocky terrain. The fortress had been built a century ago
during the civil wars, when the feudal lords routinely attacked one another to
gain land and power. Now that nearly all of Japan was unified and at peace
under the rule of Shogun Tokugawa, the castle seemed more like a mountain
retreat. Its plaster walls were barely scarred; in the six years since
Sekigahara, there had been not a single attack.
Tommy’s father bowed one last time and turned to mount his horse.
“Thomas, you are on your way to becoming a great samurai. I know you
will make me proud.”
“Father,” Tommy pleaded, panic welling in him at the thought of
being left with this terrifying man. He did not want to stay here. He could not
do this. He was no samurai. All these words were on the tip of his tongue, but
when he saw the way his father smiled at him, he swallowed them down; he could
not bear to disappoint him.
“Thomas,” his father said more firmly, and came to put a hand on
Tommy’s shoulder. “You are braver and stronger than you realize.
They will not be unkind to you here. You will make me proud, my son, I am sure
of it.”
Tommy summoned his courage, squared his shoulders and nodded resolutely.
“Yes, father,” he said, surprised at how confident he sounded to
his own ears. He watched his father swing up into the saddle and turn his
horse, watched it trot a hundred yards down the trail before he turned back to
Master Lambert with his best brave face.
He was surprised to see that the daimyo’s son had removed his helmet and
now, with the sun full on his face, he looked much kinder, and younger as well.
Though his iron armor was still hulking and impressive, he struck a much less
imposing figure. His blue eyes were more like sky than ice.
“Thomas,” he said, “I did not mean to insult your father.
I wanted to test you. The great warrior Takeda Shingen once said,
‘Everyone knows that if a man does not hold filial piety toward his own
parents he would also neglect his duties toward his lord.’”
Tommy did not understand, but Master Lambert looked like he was waiting for
Tommy to say something. “Yes, my lord,” was all he could think to
respond. His mother had told him last night: “If you are frightened,
darling, just say ‘yes, my lord,’ and bow your head.”
Tommy missed his mother right now, wished he was at home helping her tend the
garden or carry water from the well.
“You need not call me ‘lord,’” the daimyo’s
son said as he headed toward the wide gateway of the castle. “You should
call me sensei. Come, bring your horse, we will take it to the stable.”
Tommy had never been inside the castle gate before, and he marveled at the
expanse of the courtyard. A thousand men at least could fit inside the outer
yard, surrounded by battlement walls nearly ten feet tall. In the south corner
were the stables, with stalls for at least a dozen horses.
As they headed in that direction, a boy of about fifteen approached. “My
lord,” he said, bowing low to the daimyo’s son.
Master Lambert stopped and nodded toward Tommy. “Shiro, this is Thomas.
He is my new apprentice. Stable his horse and show him around the courtyard.
Take him to the afternoon meal, then put him to work grooming the horses. I
will come collect him later.”
Tommy stood blinking for a minute, feeling like a despised chore —
scrubbing the hearth or mucking the stables — delegated for someone else
to see to. This was not what he had expected, but he felt helpless to argue.
“As you wish, sensei,” he said as he watched Master Lambert walk
toward the castle. How he could feel abandoned by a man he barely knew?
“Have you never met Master Lambert before?” Shiro asked. Tommy
shook his head, still watching where his sensei disappeared inside, a stranger
leaving him to yet another stranger. Everything around him was foreign, and he
did not know his purpose here.
“No,” Tommy said quietly. “I have never met any samurai
before.”
Shiro laughed, a surprising sound, and patted Tommy on the shoulder.
“Master Lambert may be a great samurai, but he is also a man. Respect
him, but do not be too much in awe of him, or you will never be his equal one
day.” Tommy finally turned and was about to protest — about to
ask, “How could I ever be his equal?” with some insistence
— when Shiro went on. “Thomas, do you care for horses on your
farm?”
“No,” Tommy answered, ashamed for it. “Before Lord Lambert
so generously gifted two horses to my father yesterday, we had only two others.
My father cared for those himself because they were, he said, the most valuable
equipment on the farm. I helped him groom them, but that was all.”
“Your father is wise, Thomas. But you must learn. Much like the farmer,
a samurai’s most valuable tool is his horse. More valuable than his
sword, I dare say. I can teach you how to take care of your horse, and how to
talk with your horse. He can tell you much about the terrain, the weather, help
you find water, gauge how close your enemies are — if you know how to
listen.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide. “You will teach me all that? In one
day?”
Shiro laughed again. “Thomas, I believe Master Lambert intends to leave
you in my care for quite some time.”
Shiro was very kind, Tommy had to admit. He knew much about horses and was far
less intimidating than Master Lambert. Perhaps Tommy could survive this for
now, learning to care for horses under the tutelage of the stable boy. The
prospect was far less daunting than becoming a samurai.
The morning went fast. Master Lambert had taken a long ride the previous day
through some rough terrain; his horse was road-weary and had several abrasions
on his legs and flank. “If you are out on a campaign for a long time,
you will need to treat injuries like these right away,” Shiro explained.
“Otherwise they may become infected, and you could lose your
horse.”
As he worked, Tommy tried hard to soak in everything he was learning. Master
Lambert would eventually decide Tommy was too timid and too inexperienced to be
a samurai, but he should take the opportunity to learn what he could. He might
at least use these new skills to be of more help on his father’s farm.
Somewhere inside him, too, a voice spoke, sounding much like his younger self.
There was a time you would have given anything for this, it said to him,
chastising and impatient. You might make a better samurai than you think.
By lunchtime, he felt as though everything had been wrung out of him. They
washed up and ate, and Shiro introduced him to several other servants. One of
them Tommy knew, a young girl not much older than he. Her father traded fruit
for the rice Tommy’s father grew. When she was younger she would travel
with him, and she and Tommy would play in the garden together while their
fathers bartered.
“Misa, hello,” Tommy said brightly, relieved to see a familiar
face even though it had been quite some time since their last meeting.
“Tommy! Look how much you have grown! A whole foot taller I
think!” Tommy blushed, and could not but notice that Misa had changed
too, the bodice of her dress tighter than he remembered. “What are you
doing here?” she asked, squeezing his arm before stepping back demurely.
“I have been apprenticed to Master Lambert,” he said, trying to
sound as proud as he knew he should be. “Lord Lambert granted my family
this generous opportunity as thanks for my father’s help with the
rebellious monks at the temple. I am going to become a samurai.”
“Thomas, that is wonderful news,” she said formally, as though
she had realized the lack of propriety in how familiar she had been with him.
“Lord Lambert is indeed most kind. In exchange for my service here, he
charges my father much lower taxes on his land. In the year that I have been
here, my father has been able to prosper greatly.”
When she was called away by one of the kitchen servants, Tommy watched her
hurry off before he turned back to the table where Shiro and the other stable
hands were eating.
After the meal they returned to the stable. As the day wore on Tommy began to
wonder if he had been forgotten, or worse, abandoned. Perhaps Master Lambert
had already decided he was too weak. Perhaps he was just going to get a full
day’s work out of Tommy before sending him home with no need to return.
He might even send another servant to deliver the verdict rather than waste his
own valuable time. Tommy grew more and more sullen; each time someone passed he
would look up, but it was not his sensei.
He kept himself busy, swearing that no matter what Master Lambert decided, he
would work hard and give no further reason to look poorly on him or his family.
When he asked for yet another task, Shiro sent him to fetch water for the
horses on his own. He filled the bucket at the cistern and crossed the
courtyard back toward the stables, his steps labored with the weight of the
water. His eyes were on the ground and his face was red with exertion when he
heard his name called. He looked up to see Master Lambert waiting for him by
his horse.
“Thomas, Shiro tells me you have worked hard today. Come, I think you
have done enough. I will escort you down the hillside at least, as I know the
route home is not yet familiar to you.”
Tommy bowed low and was glad for the custom, so as to hide from his the surge
of happiness that surely showed on his face, and the swell of relief in his
belly. His fretting was all but forgotten at the prospect of Master Lambert
riding with him. “Ready our horses, Thomas. I will wait by the
gate.”
Tommy worked quickly to saddle both horses, forgetting for a moment his self-
doubt. Shiro came to inspect Tommy’s handiwork, adjusting the reins a
little and nodding to Tommy when he was done. Master Lambert looked over his
horse and gave Tommy a wide smile as he mounted. They had ridden about a
quarter mile at a rather slow pace when Master Lambert, who had been just
ahead, dropped back to ride abreast. “Tell me, Thomas, how was your
day?”
“I learned much about horses from Shiro, sensei. He is very
knowledgeable.”
“Good,” Master Lambert said. “I want you to work with
Shiro for now. After he teaches you about caring for your horse, he can also
teach you riding skills. In exchange, you will help him perform his duties in
the stable. The labor will help make your body strong.”
Indeed, Tommy’s body ached. He was used to helping around the farm at
home, but his father or the older farm hands often handled the more strenuous
tasks. Shiro put him straight to work, and was simply patient when
Tommy’s limited strength meant it took much longer to carry water or
lift a saddle. Shiro was a good teacher, but Tommy was still dejected that
Master Lambert would not be training him.
“You are quiet, Thomas. Does something trouble you?”
Tommy was too tired for caution, it seemed, because he answered the question
honestly. “I’m sorry, sensei. I know nothing of the ways of
samurai training, but I was hoping you would be the one to teach me.”
Master Lambert smiled at him, cocking his head a little. “I am sorry,
Thomas. But samurai do much more than fight. I serve my lord in many different
capacities and, as the daimyo’s son I, more than any other samurai, am
responsible for the safety and prosperity of this territory. Today, for
example, I helped to negotiate a border dispute between two farmers on the
southern end of the prefecture.”
Tommy had seen the two farmers arrive. They wore brighter clothing than was
common in the village, but the southern end of the prefecture was closer to
Kyoto and the influence of the city was much stronger there. In fact, over the
course of the day Tommy had seen many people come and go from the castle. The
daimyo governed this land and the people in it. As his son, Master Lambert
surely carried some of that responsibility.
“Do not worry, Thomas, I am not always so preoccupied with
administrative duties. And in due time, you will join me and learn to manage
such affairs as well. For now, however, you should start with the
basics.”
“I have much to learn,” Tommy said meekly, feeling out of his
depth all over again.
“Bushido, the way of the samurai, is aspiration to an ideal, Thomas. We
all begin somewhere, and the journey only ends when we die. A samurai always
has much to learn.”
Master Lambert drew up his horse then, and Tommy stopped alongside him.
“I must return to the castle, Thomas. When you arrive in the morning,
take your horse and go straight to Shiro. I will find you in the stable when I
can.”
Tommy bowed and bid his sensei goodnight. They had covered well over half the
distance back to Tommy’s farm; he rode alone for only a few leagues
before the low stone wall around the farmhouse came into sight, and he could
smell food cooking and see smoke rising from the chimney.
He stabled his horse himself, politely dismissing the offers of help from the
farmhands. He came into the house, leaving his shoes, which were filthy,
outside. “Thomas!” his mother exclaimed, rushing to him and
kissing his cheek though he was covered in grime. “You smell like a
stable! Is Master Lambert working you too hard on your first day?”
“No work is too hard for a samurai,” came Tommy’s
father’s voice from the doorway. His face lit up as he came in to greet
his son. “I see that you stabled your own horse, son. You are learning
much already.”
“Yes, father, very much. Master Lambert is very wise.”
Tommy’s day had been strenuous, and more than a little terrifying at
times, but he had survived — even returned with new knowledge —
and the pride on his father’s face made his endurance worth the effort.
Tommy washed up, ate the evening meal with his family and then retired to bed
though it was still quite early. His father offered to clean up after the meal,
which was customarily Tommy’s chore. “You have had a busy day,
and tomorrow will be another,” his father said in a rare, kindly tone.
He tousled Tommy’s hair before sending him off. “Rest well so you
are fresh in the morning for your training.”

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Chapter 2
“I do not need an apprentice, father! I am a samurai. My duty is to
fight battles, not babysit some farmboy.” Adam was curt and open; he
knew it was disrespectful to speak to his father — his lord, the daimyo
— in this manner, but the specter of this had been a long-simmering
source of dread to him, enough so that he was willing to speak his mind.
“Adam, do not see this as a burden. You are yet young, and have many
lessons still to learn. You have learned well to fight, to lead in battle, but
those skills alone do not make one great. They are not enough to mold you into
a daimyo fit to rule this land when one day I am gone.”
Adam started to protest, but his father held up a hand to silence him.
“Son, the peace that Lord Tokugawa has brought to Japan means that
samurai must prove their worth beyond the battlefield, in matters social and
political. That takes empathy, patience, prudence and wisdom. An apprentice
will help you learn those skills.”
Adam could not argue. He was young, just past his twenty-first year, and one
day he would inherit lordship of this territory. The old ways of feudalism, the
ways upon which the samurai thrived, were beginning to crumble, he was aware.
But he failed to see how a child stumbling after him all day had anything to do
with that.
“Father, I do not see how…”
“Enough,” his father said, finally losing patience enough to
raise his voice. “The boy will be here two days hence. I suggest you
begin considering what you will do with him.” With that, the daimyo
turned on his heel, leaving Adam to stare after him as he stormed down the
hall.
That night, after it grew dark and most of the torches were extinguished, Adam
climbed up to the uppermost parapet of the castle, from which he could see for
miles the hilly lands of his father’s territory, lands that would one
day be his. Fifty years ago this prefecture was perennially under siege. During
the era of civil war this land was highly coveted — a mountain
stronghold whose southern borders were not far from Kyoto. Now that the country
was no longer torn apart by war, now that Lord Tokugawa had moved the
nation’s capital to Edo, Lord Lambert’s lands and his samurai son
no longer seemed as relevant.
Adam thought back to what his father had told him, that he would need patience
and prudence to succeed in this new era. These qualities, he acknowledged,
eluded him, just out of reach like a clever rabbit. His own sensei had not been
a cautious man. “Hesitation is another word for fear,” Master
Nakata had told Adam long ago, not far into Adam’s own apprenticeship.
Master Nakata taught him to strike first and seize every advantage. Fear is not
the way of the samurai.
Adam remembered his first tea ceremony with his sensei. The scroll on the wall,
which customarily displayed a saying appropriate for the occasion, read with a
quotation from the great warrior Nabeshima Naoshige. “The way of the
Samurai is in desperateness. Ten men or more cannot kill such a man.”
Adam embraced that philosophy all the more ruthlessly when his sensei was
killed in battle two years ago. It had been less than a year since
Adam’s coming of age; when he turned 18 he became a full samurai
himself. He returned to his father’s castle a far stronger and more
confident warrior, but after nearly eight years with Master Nakata, after
learning all Nakata could teach him about honor and bushido and loyalty, Adam
felt he had left a piece of himself behind. The news of Nakata’s death
had been crushing, and for weeks after Adam choked on the guilt of not being at
his master’s side to embrace the same fate. Adam swore that day that he,
too, would die with honor, just as his sensei had. He would never show
hesitation. He would not be afraid. He had nothing to lose.
The day after Nakata’s funeral, Adam mounted his horse and rode to Edo,
where Lord Tokugawa had just been named Shogun. He begged Tokugawa’s
generals to send him out to fight, and they were happy to agree. He spent a
year in the Western prefectures, fighting back rebels who did not want to
acknowledge the new Shogunate. There Adam developed a reputation for his
decisiveness and, to some, recklessness. When he could find no more rebels to
subjugate, he returned to Edo. The Shogun had heard word of his fierceness in
battle and presented him with two swords, their hilts of carved ivory and
forged gold. They were his most prized possessions.
On that day, not so long ago, Adam stood as the Shogun himself praised his
bravery. And yet here he was, hesitating over a boy. To others he would
complain that he did not want to be held back, that an apprentice would get in
his way. Standing up here, at the top of the castle looking out over the
moonlit fields and sparkling lakes of his father’s domain, Adam
acknowledged to himself the true reason. The pain of losing his sensei was
still with him, and though it grew duller and less intrusive, the wound
retained a freshness that had not faded. Adam would now be the sensei, rather
than the apprentice, but he knew the vulnerability such a relationship
engendered. It was a weakness he was unwilling to suffer again.
When he lost Master Nakata, he lost more than just his teacher. There were only
two things in the world that inspired passion in him: bushido, and his sensei.
He did not believe he was capable of giving someone else what Master Nakata had
given him. It was a selfish sentiment, but he did not even want to try.
The following morning Adam decided to take a long ride in the countryside to
clear his head and strategize, much as he would on the eve of a battle. In the
stable, Shiro readied his horse and asked his destination. “I need to
think, Shiro,” Adam answered. “In the morning my apprentice will
arrive. He is young, only twelve. He will have much to learn. I must decide
where to start.”
“I hope he is well-versed in the care of horses, my lord,” Shiro
replied. “A good samurai is nothing without his horse.”
Adam laughed and mounted his horse. “Perhaps I will have you teach him,
Shiro. I know of no better expert in horses.”
Shiro waved as he headed off, but the idea stayed with Adam. Shiro was younger,
so the apprentice might feel more comfortable around him. And Shiro certainly
knew much about horses; he had even taught Adam a few new skills. Besides, with
all the administrative duties his father had given him recently, there was no
way Adam could spend all his time with the boy. It was a delightfully simple
solution. The boy would learn things he needed to know, and Adam could ease
into this more slowly, see what the boy was like so he could decide how to
handle him. Maybe find a way out of this whole arrangement…
Adam continued on his ride, confident in his strategy. He would be kind yet
somewhat aloof to start. He would gauge the boy’s capabilities. Shiro
could spend at least a month with him, and that would give Adam plenty of time.
He thought of Master Nakata again, and wondered if he would consider
Adam’s plan to be hesitation. But my instincts tell me to take my time
with this, he thought. There is no need for haste.
He returned to the castle in the early afternoon and told Shiro of his plan.
“I am happy to be of service and show your apprentice what I
know,” Shiro said. “It will be an honor to teach a boy who will
one day be a great samurai.”
“How do you know he will be a great samurai, Shiro?”
“Because you are his teacher, my lord.”

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The next morning two servants helped Adam into his armor for the meeting with
his new apprentice. He was trying to keep his nervousness at bay but it sped
him up, and he was ready and waiting by the gates early, wondering what to
expect in this boy who would become his companion. What had Nakata thought of
him when they first met? I was terrified that day, Adam recalled. This boy
probably will be too. I should be sympathetic.
When the boy arrived with his father Adam was not immediately impressed. He
seemed shy, he was lanky, and he dismounted a horse clumsily. All of that he
could forgive, he could repair, but did the boy have any spirit? He remembered
the words Nakata would whisper to him in quiet moments. “I always knew
you had fire in you, Adam. From the very beginning, I saw the heat in
you.”
When Adam tried to look the boy in the eye, Thomas – yes, that was his
name – would not meet his gaze. Maybe if I push him, he will react, Adam
thought. “Your son, he seems to come from weak stock,” he said to
the boy’s father.
When the boy locked eyes with Adam and fired back, Adam had to admit that he
was a little surprised at his vehemence. He’s got fire in him too, Adam
thought, caught for a moment by the spark in the boy’s eyes and the
flush on his cheeks.
They finished the formalities of the apprenticeship and he watched with some
sadness as the boy said goodbye to his father. He recalled his own first
goodbye, how hard it had been, how hard he had tried to hide his fear from his
sensei. He tried to be reassuring, and led the boy toward the stable. Shiro was
ready, and Adam let out a huge sigh as he headed back toward the castle,
leaving Thomas in Shiro’s capable hands for now.
The day dragged slowly; his father had asked him to handle a border dispute
between two farmers. They were tedious men and refused to compromise on even
the smallest detail. After he listened to them bicker for over an hour, he bade
them wait while he deliberated their issue on his own. He left them together in
the library to squabble out of his earshot, and retired to his room.
He already had a solution in mind, one he was sure was equitable. If they did
not like it he would simply force them to accept it through his authority as
the representative of the daimyo. But he wanted to sneak away to check on his
apprentice. From one window in his room he could see down to the stableyard and
he watched Thomas for a while, smiling as the boy struggled to carry a pile of
horseshoes to one of the stable hands. The weight was too much for him so he
had to put half down and carry them in two trips, but he did it nonetheless and
returned directly to Shiro when he was finished.
Adam watched Thomas a little longer, until he had left the arguing farmers
alone long enough. Surprisingly, they did not complain about his solution for
demarcating the boundary between their lands. Perhaps they began to get along
while they were waiting for me, Adam thought. Two people could often learn to
find common ground when they were thrust into a challenging situation together.
Perhaps the same would come to be true of him and Thomas.
The hour was growing late and Adam had to acknowledge that he was allowing
himself to stall far too long. As he approached the stable, Shiro crossed the
courtyard to meet him. “My lord, I just sent Thomas to collect water for
the horses, it may be a few minutes until he returns.”
“Tell me, Shiro, how has he done today? What do you think of
him?”
“He is eager, and he does not shy away from hard work. He is scared
however; I think he cannot quite believe all this has happened to him.”
It was something Adam had not considered. As far back as he could remember, he
knew he would become a samurai. “The men in our family, we are
samurai,” his father had told him many times. “There is samurai
blood in your veins; your ancestors have died honorably in battle for
centuries.”
Though Adam had been fearful when he began his own apprenticeship, he had long
prepared for it and knew by heart what it meant. Thomas, however, had believed
all his life that he could not become a samurai because he had been born a
farmer’s son. Then, just yesterday, Adam’s father had interceded
and made Thomas into something he thought he could never be.
Shiro snapped him from the thought. “Here he comes, my lord.”
Adam looked up and saw Thomas clumsily making his way toward the stable with a
bucket in his hands. Though he tripped and strained, he spilled almost no
water.
“Thomas, Shiro tells me you worked hard today,” Adam said, and
before he could stop himself, he told the boy that he would accompany him part
of the way home. He could not say what moved him to make such an offer, but he
noted how it made Thomas’s face light up even as the boy tried to hide
his smile.
He directed Thomas to ready their horses and watched with an almost begrudging
kernel of fondness as Thomas hurried away. On the journey, when Thomas admitted
he was hoping to spend more time training with his sensei, Adam was struck by
an unexpected twinge of guilt. He felt he owed the boy an explanation, if only
so that he did not feel Adam had abandoned him. Adam began speaking of the
matters to which he had attended that day, about his duty as a samurai and as
the son of the daimyo. He had been paying little attention to his surroundings,
and realized suddenly he had ridden farther with Thomas than he had intended.
He bade the boy goodnight and headed back toward the castle, letting his horse
make its own sure-footed way while he considered his situation. He was quiet at
the evening meal and retired early, lighting candles in the small library and
searching through scrolls. He had been there for an hour, reading wisdom from
the great samurai whose words were immortalized on the rolls of parchment, when
his mother found him.
“Adam, what is it you seek?”
“My apprentice knows little about bushido, mother. I am studying the
scrolls to see where to begin teaching him.”
“How do you like your apprentice?” she asked.
“He is a winsome boy, though with fire in him. His asset will be agility
more than strength. But until today he was a farmer. He has much to learn about
becoming a warrior.”
“Just as you have much to learn about becoming a sensei. And like your
young apprentice, you will not find the answers quickly,” she said
softly and walked over to pull a scroll from a shelf. “Much as your
skills with a sword grew over time, so too will your skills as a teacher. You
two have a long future together. There is no need for haste.”
He paused, caught by surprise that she had echoed his own words of the day
before. “Perhaps you are right, mother.” Smiling, she handed him
the parchment and withdrew from the room.
They would have years together. And yet the way of the samurai was not the
future. Nor was it the past, though Adam often dwelled on it. No, the way of
the samurai was death. It was here and now, honor and glory. But when there are
no battles to be fought, what is the way of the samurai then? Adam wondered.
He shook his head firmly; he had not felt so uncertain in a long time. He
unrolled the scroll his mother had given him to find it scrawled over with many
sayings of the Chinese philosopher Confucius. Adam was not certain which bit of
wisdom his mother had intended for him, but his eyes fell on one that seemed
fitting. “It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not
stop.” Yes. For now, he would wait, and watch, and give both he and
Thomas time. He did not know what else to do.
For the next several days, Adam left Thomas with Shiro. He would make a point
to greet the boy in the morning, and at least once every few days stay to talk
with him a while and inquire after his progress. In truth he well knew how
Thomas was faring; he would sit by the window in his room and watch his
apprentice for long stretches of the afternoon. He began to memorize the
cadence of Thomas’s stride, he could estimate how much the boy could
carry without struggling, he watched him smile and laugh now and then with
Shiro or the other servants. Every evening after the boy left, Adam would go to
Shiro for a report on Thomas’s progress. The boy was doing well, Shiro
said. Thomas was an eager worker and a quick learner. The few times Shiro had
taken him out riding the boy showed great improvement.
After more than a week, however, Adam was still uncertain of his next step with
the boy. And yet he could not leave Thomas with Shiro forever. He had hoped a
strategy would come to him, but he continued to founder. One afternoon Lord
Lambert found Adam in his room, watching Thomas in the courtyard below.
“Son, what are you doing? Where is your apprentice?”
“He is learning to care for his horse from the stable hands. I have been
watching his progress.”
“Do not forget, Adam — he is your apprentice, not a
stableboy.”
“Yes, father.”
A few days later, Shiro finally spoke up as well. “Master
Lambert,” he said in a demure tone he rarely affected with Adam.
“A day will come when I run out of things to teach Thomas.”
“I am aware of this, Shiro.”
“Yes, my lord.”
That evening Adam took a long walk through the forest, with his katana on his
hip and a torch to light his way. He picked up the trail of a young stag and
tracked it for a few kilometers. He did not intend to hunt the animal, not at
night and without a bow and arrows, but it gave his mind the respite of a path
that was clear.
He was deep into the woods before he turned back, looking to the stars to point
his way home. I wonder if Thomas knows how to do these things, track prey and
tell direction from the skies. Adam returned to the castle more at peace than
when he had left it — indeed, more than he had been in some time. He had
discovered his next step, even if he could see no further.

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Chapter 3
Tommy had barely seen his sensei in the ten days since beginning his
apprenticeship, and his worry was starting down a whole new path. If Master
Lambert had decided Tommy was not fit to be his apprentice, then why had he not
told Tommy to stop coming to the castle? But if Master Lambert had not yet
realized Tommy was unfit for this, then why did he not train Tommy himself?
It was easy for his concerns to grow disproportionate, since Tommy had no real
idea what to expect of his apprenticeship, or of his sensei. In truth, all his
expectations were based on dreams and stories; he knew no one who could tell
him what a samurai apprentice was meant to do. All his friends, and all the
adults he knew, were peasants, farmers and laborers. The only person he could
ask was Master Lambert himself, but Tommy did not dare.
This concern over Master Lambert’s lack of attention to his training was
compounded every evening, when Tommy would arrive home to his parents’
farm. His father looked more and more haggard by the day, and his mother would
often pause to rest while cooking or cleaning, leaning for long moments on the
table when she thought no one watched. Tommy was young and not yet able to
contribute much around the farm, but it was clear his parents were making up
for his absence by doing his chores themselves. Perhaps I should tell Master
Lambert I wish to resign my apprenticeship, Tommy thought as he lay awake one
night. It is selfish of me to put my parents through so much, when I am bound
to fail.
The next morning he asked his mother if he should give up, albeit quietly, as
she readied his breakfast. “Thomas, do not say such a thing! And by no
means say it to your father! Your apprenticeship brings great honor to this
family, more than a hundred workers toiling day and night on this farm could.
Your father talks without cease of how his son will become a samurai. He would
never forgive himself if you gave up on our account.”
Tommy apologized, and remained quiet while he readied himself and his horse. As
he rode to the castle, he dwelt on his mother’s words about how much his
father wanted him to become a samurai. He had been so lost in his own fears
that he had forgotten his father’s hopes. What had his sensei said about
filial piety? It is your duty to your father to see this through, a voice in
his head chastised. You must work hard and do your best. If Master Lambert
chooses to send you away, so be it, but it should not be because you gave up or
did not try hard enough. How else will you look your father in the eye?
By the time he arrived at the castle he had resolved himself to see this thing
through. It would have been reassuring, though, to see his sensei, perhaps
spend time with him. However, Master Lambert did not even come to say good
morning, and Tommy's doubts began creeping back again.
As the morning wore on he grew more pensive and spoke little. Following the
afternoon meal, he readied his horse and rode with Shiro to the meadow for more
riding lessons. They were to practice skills for riding during battle, but
after the second time Tommy almost fell from his horse, Shiro stopped and
dismounted. “You are distracted today, Thomas. Your horse knows it. What
is wrong?”
Shiro was the closest he had to a friend in this new life at Lord
Lambert’s castle. Yet Tommy did not want to tell him. He did not want to
acknowledge his fear to anyone — he was supposed to be fearless. I am to
become a samurai. Nothing should vex me. There should be no challenge I cannot
face.
“It is nothing,” Tommy answered, a little curtly. “I am
merely thirsty.” It was not true, but he sought the reprieve of a moment
of solitude. He took his canteen and headed toward the stream they had passed
on their way to the meadow. At the bank, he sat against the trunk of an old
tree and drew his knees up, curling into a ball to keep everything tightly
inside. He took a few deep breaths but it did not help; he could feel his face
getting hotter and his eyes start to sting.
“Damn it!” he cursed as he felt the first tears roll down his
cheeks. He wiped at them roughly and forced himself up, heading toward the
water’s edge, when he heard his name.
“Shiro,” he said, gasping a little in surprise. Shiro had
followed him, and now looked at him with a furrowed brow.
“I am sorry, Thomas,” he said softly, in the tone he used to calm
an agitated steed. “I have been working you very hard since you came to
the castle. These skills are not ones you learn in a day or a week or even a
year. You have been progressing well, do not overlook that simply because you
are fatigued. Master Lambert is very satisfied with how much you have
learned.”
“He is?” Tommy’s embarrassment subsided for a moment,
replaced by surprise at Shiro’s words. “But what does he know of
my progress?”
“He asks about you every day after you leave. He often watches you from
the castle, when he is not busy with administrative affairs.”
“He does?” He has been watching me? Tommy’s mind hurried
to wrap itself around this information. He is pleased with me? Suddenly when
Tommy tried to breathe he was able to fill his lungs fully; the tightness in
his chest was loosening and the heat in his face began to fade.
Shiro smiled and bent down to fill his canteen. “Come, let us go back to
the castle. We can be finished early today. A good night of sleep will ready
you for your duties tomorrow.”
Thomas nodded, hoping Shiro understood how grateful he was for the reassurance,
and they headed back to their horses. He was glad to get home early for once,
and though he was tired, it reinvigorated him to know he would be able to help
his mother with dinner.
The next day his energy was better and his sullenness was gone, and he brought
to the castle some apples his family had just bartered for, sharing them with
Shiro and the other stable hands after the afternoon meal. He and Shiro were
eating their apples in the courtyard when Master Lambert approached. They bowed
low, and he returned the greeting
“Good afternoon, Thomas, Shiro. Are those apples?”
Shiro spoke up right away. “Yes, my lord, Thomas brought them from his
family’s larder to share with the stable hands.”
Master Lambert looked at Tommy and smiled; Tommy had to drop his gaze from the
cool intensity of Master Lambert’s blue eyes, and he felt the warmth of
a blush in his cheeks. “That was very generous of you, Thomas.
Benevolence is the way of the samurai.”
“Thank you, sensei.”
“Thomas, I would like you to tell your father and mother that tomorrow
evening you will not be returning home. I wish to take you on a hunt to see
your tracking and maneuvering skills out in the wild. We will leave in the
morning and camp in the forest tomorrow night.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide and he almost dropped his apple to the dusty
ground. He choked down the half-chewed piece of fruit in his mouth and managed
to nod. “Yes, sensei. What should I do to prepare?”
“If you have a bow at home, bring it. We have plenty of arrows in the
armory. Bring blankets for sleeping in the woods, and your canteen. I will have
food prepared for our journey. Be here at first light.”
“Yes, sensei,” Tommy managed again, and stared as Master Lambert
turned and headed back toward the castle.
Shiro clapped Tommy on the back as he walked the length of the stables,
stopping to feed his apple core to Master Lambert’s horse. “I
suppose I will be doing my stable work alone for a couple of days,”
Shiro said with a laugh. Tommy could not hide his smile as he followed after.

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Tommy was eager in the morning and his mother knew it, rising early to shepherd
him out the door before the sun even hinted over the horizon. “Be
careful, Thomas. And stay warm, I do not wish to see you catch a chill from
sleeping on the cold ground.”
When Tommy arrived at the castle, Shiro had Master Lambert’s horse
waiting in the courtyard. “The master has gone to fetch arrows for you
both,” he told Tommy. “He will be pleased you are here
early.”
Just then Misa came hurrying toward them from the castle carrying a basket.
“Thomas!” she exclaimed as she approached, and Tommy could not
help but notice the way her chest heaved from rushing with her burden. He often
traded quick glances or smiles with her during the afternoon meal as she
brought food out from the kitchen. Sometimes she would sneak him an extra rice
ball, or a piece of fruit.
“Misa,” he said with a little bow. “It is good to see
you.”
“I brought the food for your hunting trip with Master Lambert. I imagine
you are very excited.”
Tommy was, though he did his best to subdue it. “Yes. I look forward to
learning the skills to become a great samurai like him.”
“You will do well hunting, Thomas, I know it. I remember how skilled you
were at tracking down rats’ nests out in the rice paddies.”
“Is that so, Thomas?” Master Lambert had come up around the
corner of the stable. Tommy turned bright red; he was ashamed to have his
sensei see him be so familiar with one of the servants.
Misa spoke up. “My lord, I have brought your supplies.”
“Thank you, Misa,” he said as he took the sacks of food from the
basket in her arms. As soon as she was relieved of her burden she turned and
hurried back to the castle, and Tommy watched her go until Master Lambert spoke
again.
“Do you know her, Thomas?”
“Our fathers barter rice and fruit. She would visit my family’s
farm often when we were children.”
“I see. Come, Thomas, let us ready our gear and begin our
journey.”
On the road, Master Lambert described the surrounding terrain: which farmers
owned which rice paddies and orchards, how vast different stretches of forest
were, how far it was to Kyoto in the south or north to the sea.
They reached the forest where Master Lambert often hunted. First he showed
Tommy how to choose a suitable place to camp. They tied their horses and began
to scout the area. Tommy had never hunted boar, but he knew how to pick up a
trail. Boar left tracks far easier to spot than those of rats in the paddies.
The late morning grew warm in the still air of the forest, and Tommy soaked in
the wildness of it, stopping to examine plants that were foreign to him, and
strange insects. He made sure never to lose sight of his sensei, however; this
was the farthest from home he had ever been, and he was not certain he could
get back on his own.
As the afternoon wore on, they managed to find only one boar and it was too
quick. But as they returned to their campsite, Tommy tracked and felled a large
hare, which gained him no small amount of praise from Master Lambert. “I
am impressed, Thomas. Your aim with the arrow is quite skilled.”
Tommy let the adulation buoy his spirits. “Sensei,” he asked when
they reached the camp, “Would it be alright if I went to wash in the
creek? Chasing that hare left me quite muddy.”
“Certainly, Thomas.” Master Lambert was smiling. “I shall
start a fire and clean the hare.”
“Thank you, sensei.” Tommy rushed off, feeling quite pleased with
himself, laughing off the moroseness that had weighed on him so heavily him
just yesterday morning. He stripped when he reached the creek, rinsing the dirt
and mud and hare’s blood off his clothes first and draping them over a
rock to dry. Then he waded into the creek himself, dunking his head to wash the
forest from his hair and body. The water was cool and he had goosebumps when he
emerged, so he stretched out on a flat, sun-warmed rock. The air was more open
here where there was a break in the denseness of the forest along the water. He
let the sun beat down on him and the breeze blow through his damp hair.
He was anxious to tell Shiro about the rabbit, and Misa as well. For a moment,
he thought of Misa, her chest flushed and heaving this morning as she brought
their supplies. He was still keyed up from the hunt, and the sun drying his
skin was making his whole body feel tight; it took no more to send the blood
rushing to his groin. He reached down and ran his hand over himself, gasping at
the feel. It was so tempting to do it here, to pleasure himself in the solitude
of the forest with the late afternoon sun warming his skin. He blushed at the
impropriety of the thought. His sensei would be waiting. He took a deep breath
and got to his feet, dressing quickly when he found his clothes were mostly
dry.
Master Lambert was gone when he returned, so Tommy set about fetching their
blankets from their packs and the rice balls Misa had packed for them. The sky
was growing dim and he was starting to worry a little when his sensei returned
with a pile of firewood. He built a small campfire, explaining to Tommy the
right way to arrange the branches and brush, and how a samurai should always
travel with a small piece of flint to start campfires easily.
It was fully dark by the time the rabbit was cooked. Tommy rarely ate rabbit
— his father’s bartering partners rarely had it to trade, or
asked a high price. Master Lambert had found some wild herbs and seasoned the
meat with them, and Tommy could not imagine being happier than being out here
in the forest, eating the game he caught with his sensei. Though Tommy was
tired, they talked by the fire for some time after they ate.
“I am very impressed with your hunting skills, Thomas. You can track
quite well.”
“Thank you, sensei,” Tommy replied, blushing a little.
“You know, I think when we are alone together, you can call me
Adam.”
Tommy’s breath caught. “I can?”
“It is my duty to train you to be my equal as a samurai. I would say
this is a good step in that direction.”
“Thank you… Adam.” It felt foreign coming off his tongue,
but when Tommy looked up his sensei — Adam — was smiling at him.
And when he reached out and put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Tommy felt
a little bit of weight lift off his mind. He thinks I can do this.
The stars were clear and bright and the fire had shrunk to glowing embers as
they spread their blankets on the ground to sleep. Though Tommy had been afraid
to camp out in the woods — so far from his mother and father, his
farmhouse, his bed — those fears were distant now. Instead he felt warm
and unexpectedly safe, and the exhaustion of the day was already pulling him
toward sleep.
“Goodnight, Thomas,” Adam said softly as he lay down a few feet
away.
Tommy had closed his eyes, and did not open them when he spoke. “You
could call me Tommy. I like it better than Thomas.”
“I like it too. Goodnight, Tommy.”
“Goodnight, Adam,” Tommy answered, and wondered if he had already
begun to dream.

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Chapter 4
Adam had been out gathering firewood when he realized he was close to the
creek; he could hear the music of the water playing over the rocks. He headed
toward the sound, intending to enlist Thomas’ help with the firewood if
the boy was still nearby. But when Adam caught sight of the clearing by the
stream, he stopped dead. Thomas was there, yes, but this… Adam had not
expected to come upon the scene before him.
Thomas was lying stretched out on a flat piece of rock, naked, running his hand
over his body. Adam almost dropped his firewood when Thomas’ fingers
slid down and wrapped around his erect cock. Adam ducked back behind the
nearest tree and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but too late. The image was
there now, bright and clear in his mind. His young apprentice, one long, lean
line of bare skin, pleasuring himself in the sun by the stream, thinking he was
alone in the woods. Adam slinked quietly away, forcing himself not to look
back.
When he felt he had retreated far enough, Adam slumped against a tree, his
firewood dropped to the ground with a careless clatter. The distance he put
between himself and Thomas did nothing to dull the vividness of what he saw,
nor the sharpness of what he felt: desire. Adam thought for a moment of running
his own hands over Thomas’s body, but immediately pushed away the
thought. He’s too young, it’s too soon. He must come to me.
But what unsettled him most was that he had wanted to go to Thomas, and with a
surprising intensity. Somewhere in his mind Adam had harbored a hope that his
relationship with Thomas would never come to that. Not every samurai and his
apprentice became lovers; many shared the intimacy of brothers instead. Adam
had hoped brotherhood would be enough, but here was his body, betraying him.
He got up again and started moving purposefully, trying to focus on the task at
hand rather than the buzzing just under his skin. He let himself hike through
the woods for quite some time, finding wild herbs to cook with the rabbit,
until he felt the heat in his blood had dissipated enough. He returned to camp
and forced his breath to steady when he saw Thomas there waiting for him.
Adam built the fire, showing Thomas how to do so properly; it was a skill he
had mastered well during the year he spent out in the Western lands. Tending to
the fire kept his hands and mind busy at least, kept him from looking too long
at his apprentice. After they had eaten, Adam felt calmer; the fire was warm
and the air was cool and he remembered how peaceful he found it to be in the
forest at night, alone. Save that Thomas was here with him. He looked at the
boy and let the warmth in his chest linger for a while. When Thomas looked up,
Adam could not help a kind word.
“I am very impressed with your hunting skills, Thomas. You can track
quite well.” He meant it unreservedly; Thomas’ skills had caught
him by surprise. There was, he had to admit, more to Thomas than he had been
willing to acknowledge. There was a potential there he felt himself drawn to.
Thomas blushed, though he could not fight the slight curve of a smile. Adam
watched the way the firelight danced on his lips, and before he knew it he was
pushing further than he had intended.
“You know, I think when we are alone together, you can call me
Adam.”
Though Thomas seemed hesitant at first, he soon responded in kind. “You
could call me Tommy.”
Adam said goodnight, stretched out on his back staring up at the stars through
the treetops. Tommy suits him, Adam thought. He looked over at his apprentice
and felt that pull again, the same one he had felt at the creek. But instead he
squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself to sleep.
It was still well before dawn when Adam’s instincts snapped him awake.
His hands were already wrapped tightly around his wakizashi, ready to unsheathe
the short, dagger-like blade against whatever danger he had sensed. He peered
into the darkness toward where he had heard the sound of movement, and let out
a breath when he saw it was his apprentice.
“Thomas… Tommy? What are you doing awake?”
“I am sorry to wake you,” Tommy said, his voice small and
trembling. “I woke up cold. I was fetching another blanket from my
pack.”
Adam had shaken enough sleep to realize that it was indeed cold, certainly
colder than he expected given the warmth of the afternoon.
“Tommy,” he said, sitting up a bit, “you could lie next to
me. To keep each other warm. If you would like.”
Tommy paused and stood looking at Adam from the other side of the blackened
ring of ash where the fire had burned out. Why do I keep saying these things?
But then Tommy was moving, heading toward him, blanket clutched in his arms. He
lay down gingerly, as though he were afraid to touch Adam. Of course he is
afraid to touch me.
“Come here,” Adam said, reaching his arm out. The brief
invitation was enough, and Tommy tucked himself, small but solid, against
Adam’s side, pulling the blanket over so that it covered them both. He
was shivering, and Adam fought the urge to clutch Tommy too tight, too close.
He took a deep breath and let his skin soak in the heat of Tommy’s body,
and sometime later he finally drifted back to sleep.
In the morning he let himself lie there, Tommy’s warmth a comfort that
was almost familiar. He thought of so many mornings like this in the forest
when he had woken with the solidness of Master Nakata’s arm around him.
He finally forced himself to get up, gently so as to not wake Tommy, and moved
quietly around the camp, taking their things back to the horses.
He was just returning when he spied Tommy stirring. “Good morning,
Tommy, I hope you slept well?”
“Mmhmm,” Tommy muttered, still sleep-groggy. “Thank you
for letting me sleep with you. It was much better being warm.”
Adam looked over and smiled. “I was cold as well. That is the nature of
the relationship between master and apprentice. Often what is good for one is
good for both. Now get ready, we shall try for another boar while it is still
early, and start for home by midday.”
They had not been scouting long when Tommy picked up a trail — he truly
had a talent for it — and they followed it to a dense thicket of
underbrush where they suspected the boar hid. Adam unsheathed his katana and
offered the hilt to Tommy. “Take this and chase it out from
behind,” he whispered. “I shall wait on this side to take it down
with an arrow.”
Tommy was staring at the sword with wide eyes but his hands did not move to
take it. They boy has never held a sword before, Adam realized. “Tommy,
have you held a wooden sword before, a bokken?”
Tommy nodded.
“This will be no different, only the katana is heavier. You are not
fighting anyone. There is no need to be apprehensive.”
Tommy swallowed hard and looked up at Adam, and Adam could see he was trying
valiantly to best his fear. Adam offered the sword to him again and this time
Tommy wrapped his hands around the hilt and took it carefully from
Adam’s hands. He lifted the blade up, getting a feel for its weight, and
then lowered it again.
“Are you ready, Tommy?”
Tommy breathed deep and nodded, and moved slowly around toward the back of the
thicket. When he was in position Adam gave the signal, and Tommy began chopping
at the underbrush with the sword. It took only a moment for Adam to see the
rustling in the leaves, right between him and Tommy. He took a step backward
and raised the bow, following the movement through the bushes with the tip of
the arrow. Tommy gave chase, trying to guide it toward Adam, and when it burst
out of the bushes not even a dozen feet away, Adam had a clear shot and took
it. The boar let out a piercing squeal and shot back into the underbrush, but
slowed quickly before it stopped altogether.
“Adam! You got him!” Tommy was shouting and running toward him.
In his rush of adrenaline, Adam grabbed the boy into a tight embrace.
“We did it together, Tommy," he said as he hastily pulled away, brushing
at his tunic self-consciously. "I would not have succeeded without you.”
They headed for the brush where the boar had collapsed, and Adam instructed
Tommy on how to finish dispatching the creature and truss its legs. It was not
a large beast, and they had little trouble carrying it back to the horses. They
wrapped the animal in burlap and tied it on the back of Adam’s horse
behind the saddle. It was just past midday, and when their burdens were secure
they mounted and began to ride back toward the castle.
Tommy took the lead, his horse more eager than Adam's, but they were in no
rush. Tommy would trot ahead a little ways and then wait for Adam under the
shade of a tree. The day was warm but less so than the day before, and the
breeze whipped pleasantly through their hair as they rode.
When they reached the crossroads by the village, Adam sent Tommy directly on
the north road to his farm. The day was wearing on and he could tell from
Tommy’s growing quietness over the past hour that the boy was tired.
Still, Adam swore he heard a tick of disappointment in Tommy’s voice
when they said farewell; an echo of that feeling trailed after Adam as he rode
back to the castle alone.
Shiro hurried to greet him when he entered the gates, and Adam called for more
help to carry the boar to the kitchen. Once his horse was unburdened he headed
into the castle. He was quiet at the evening meal, speaking briefly about the
hunting trip to his mother and father, then retired early to bathe.
After he had cleansed his body he eased down into the steaming water of the
bath, letting the heat loosen his muscles. He was surprised at how much he
missed Tommy’s company already, how spending the last two days with the
boy had been gratifying in a way he craved now that it was gone. The snatches
of simple joy he felt while out in the forest with his apprentice were
pleasures he had thought lost to him. And then his mind fell upon the scene at
the creek: Tommy, stretched out, naked, stroking himself.
He is too young, Adam reminded himself quickly. In point of tradition, however,
that was not true. Twelve was not too young for the relationship between an
apprentice and a teacher to mature. Many boys began even younger. Adam himself
was not quite to his twelfth birthday when he and Master Nakata were together
for the first time. But I knew what to expect. Tommy has not been schooled in
the love that can exist between a samurai and apprentice. I had years to come
to understand it before it began.
Tradition also dictated, however, that the apprentice must approach the master.
He must come to me, and I must wait. It may take years. He may never come at
all.
Adam emerged from the tub and returned to his bedroom, the coolness of the
night air chasing away much of the heat he’d found in the bath. He lay
down and pulled up the duvet, but still a slight shiver ran up his spine.
Though his bedding was far softer than the forest floor where he had lain last
night, he would trade the comfort to have Tommy tucked beside him again.

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Chapter 5
Tommy awoke in his own bed, still exhausted but eager for the morning. He had
returned home from the hunt last night and stayed awake only long enough to
tell his parents about the boar and the hare and how Master Lambert had let him
use his katana. His mother sent him to bed right after dinner, and he fell
asleep with his father’s proud smile still on his mind.
The morning air smelled of rain, and he hurried to the castle while watching
gray clouds slowly roll in from the north. When he arrived he headed for the
stable; Shiro rushed out when he saw Tommy.
“Thomas! The great hunter returns! That was quite a boar Master Lambert
brought back!”
Tommy blushed as he dismounted from his horse. “Master Lambert felled
the boar,” he said humbly. “I merely chased it out from the
underbrush.”
“The way Master Lambert tells it, you drove the boar right to him. And
you took down a hare besides," Shiro chided, taking the reins from Tommy. "Do
not be so modest, Thomas, you obviously have a talent for hunting.”
Tommy could not help but be pleased Master Lambert was praising his skills. In
truth, the hunting trip had done much to bolster his confidence. He had not
failed; he had not made a fool of himself. And for the first time he felt as
though he and his sensei were companions. Before their journey, he had not even
been certain whether Master Lambert even wanted to be in his company. But he
was not Master Lambert anymore, he was Adam. He had taught Tommy many things,
let him wield his katana, kept him warm during the cold night.
Father told me that a samurai and his apprentice become like brothers, even
closer than brothers. This must be what he meant. Tommy suddenly wanted to see
Adam, but when he looked around the courtyard his sensei was nowhere to be
found. Tommy pushed his pang of disappointment away and set to work.
He and Shiro secured the stable in advance of the rain, then began helping the
other servants clear equipment from the courtyard. The wind was picking up and
the first few drops were starting to fall when the bell rang for the afternoon
meal. Shiro and Tommy had just finished moving several pieces of equipment when
Misa came running over to them.
“Come inside,” she called to them, holding her hand above her
head for the little protection from the rain it offered. “Lord Lambert
has given permission for everyone to eat in the main hall. It has gotten
crowded, but you both can come back with me to the pantry. There is more room,
and Thomas, you can tell me about the hunt!”
She turned and rushed back into the castle, leaving them to watch after her.
“Everyone has heard what a skilled hunter you are!” Shiro said,
nudging his elbow as they washed up quickly and went inside. Tommy had only
been inside the castle a few times; his chores kept him mostly out of doors and
there was no reason for him to intrude. This time Misa escorted them down a
long corridor Thomas had not seen before, and he fell behind as he peered into
some of the rooms. One was a library, where hundreds of scrolls were tucked
into cubicles along the walls. The next several rooms were small parlors where
the daimyo housed guests. The first was large and elaborate, obviously meant
for visitors of status. The walls were hung with handwoven tapestries and
woodblock prints. Several ornate chairs and chaises stood along the walls and
the windows were hung with curtains of rich fabrics. Other rooms off the hall
were smaller and less elegantly appointed, meant for retinue and less
influential guests.
“Come on, Thomas,” Misa called, trying to keep her voice low. He
ran to catch them and turned an abrupt corner into the pantry. The expansive
space was lined with shelves filled with bushels of rice, dried and salted
fishes, ginger jars full of spices and several baskets filled with fresh
produce.
“Wait here, I will fetch our meal,” Misa said, and Tommy and
Shiro sat on the floor on either side of an upturned wooden crate they could
use as a table. Tommy glanced around, humbled; the pantry alone was almost as
large as the entire kitchen in his farmhouse. He wondered what it would be like
to grow up in a castle so large.
Misa returned with several bowls on a wooden tray. They were steaming, three
filled with stew and a larger bowl full of rice to share. “Master
Lambert gave the boar to the cook to make a stew. He said he thought you would
want all the servants to enjoy it.”
“That was kind of him,” Tommy said, delighted that his sensei had
made such a gesture. As they ate, he recounted the hunting trip to his two
friends, thrilling at their “oohs” and “ahhs” as he
told how he felled the hare himself, and how they had taken the boar down
together. The three were so caught up in conversing that they paid little heed
to the increasing intensity of the rain until a loud thunderclap sounded in the
distance, startling them.
Shiro sprang up from the floor. “I should go back to the stable, a few
of the horses spook easily from thunder and lightning.”
Tommy made to rise as well, but Shiro motioned for him to remain. “Enjoy
your stew, Thomas. You more than anyone should. I will tend to the
horses.”
He was barely out of the room when Misa slid over closer to Tommy. “You
are already becoming quite the samurai, Tommy.” She reached out and laid
her hand lightly on his arm. “Do you mind if I still call you Tommy when
we are alone?”
The question reminded him of the night before, when he had offered his sensei
that very intimacy. But this was Misa, a long-time friend, and though her hand
on his arm was making him nervous, he tried to laugh off his sudden anxiety.
After all, she had always called him Tommy when they had played together as
children. “Yes, if I can call you Misa-chan like I used to,” he
said, adding the diminutive to her name.
“I would like that,” she said, softly this time, inching closer
and lifting her hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He stiffened, not
expecting the touch.
“Misa,” he stuttered, backing away in surprise. This was…
this was new.
“Misa-chan,” she corrected him in a whisper, trailing her fingers
down his arm. He looked up at her and she was smiling sweetly, but with a
flicker of something more behind it. He could feel the sting of the blush in
his cheeks, and part of him wanted to run from the pantry, but something even
deeper made him stay. The air was quiet and heavy, and when she darted her
tongue to lick her lips he could not look away.
“Tommy,” she said, still in the same hushed voice. “If you
wanted to, you could kiss me.”
He swallowed hard and looked around, making sure they were alone but buying
time as well. Where was his training for a situation like this? “Misa-
chan…”
He could feel his heart pound in his chest, amplifying his uncertainty, when
they heard voices approaching. “The cook is coming,” Misa said
nervously, looking toward the doorway. Tommy hurried to his feet and helped
Misa up, squeezing her hand slightly before he let go, but it was enough for
her to flash a smile.
He smiled back and ducked out the way they had come in, leaving Misa alone in
the pantry. He tried to keep his footfalls quiet as he made his way back to the
main hall and out of the castle, all the while confounded at what had happened
in the pantry. Since he started his apprenticeship, he more than once had
caught himself regarding Misa in ways that were not platonic. But he had not
considered those imaginings might become real. Was this even permitted? What
would Master Lambert think?
He hurried out through the steadily increasing downpour to the stable, letting
the rain and the whickering of the horses, edgy from the the thunder and the
stirring wind, take the place of his troubled thoughts. Tommy had just come
upon Shiro near the back of the stable when he heard his name. He turned to see
Adam coming toward them, the rain already pasting locks of black hair to his
face. Tommy’s pulse began to race.
“Thomas, the storm is growing much stronger, there may be flooding. You
should go before the roads become treacherous.”
“But sensei — ” Tommy started to protest. He had bested
far worse than rain in the last few days, and his riding skills had improved
considerably under Shiro’s tutelage. He did not want Adam to think he
was incapable.
“I do not doubt your skills, Thomas, but rain like this often creates
mudslides on the road down the hill,” Adam said, and then crouched down
and put a hand on Tommy’s elbow. “I would worry for your safety
if you were to wait much longer to leave,” he added quietly.
“Of course, sensei,” Tommy said. Adam smiled and Tommy could see
the relief visible on his face.
Tommy rode cautiously and as soon as he came upon the first small washed-out
section of trail he was glad for Adam sending him home. His horse was growing
uneasy with the tricky conditions and the cracks of thunder and lightning. He
was soaked when he finally made it home and his mother rushed up with a blanket
to dry him as he came inside. “Thomas, I am glad you are home. The
weather is terrible!”
Once in dry clothes he came out to help his mother in the kitchen. It was
something he had missed, and he was insistent when she tried to encourage him
to rest instead. “Thomas, you need not help. You work so hard all day at
your training. Enjoy this one evening and relax.”
“But mother, I want to help. Let me build the fire for you.” She
acquiesced, and he set to the task eagerly, wanting to put to use the new
skills his sensei had taught him. When he had gotten the kindling placed just
so and it caught easily from the spark of the flint, he sat on the edge of
hearth and let the flames warm him for a moment. Sitting there quietly staring
into the fire, he had a moment finally to think back on Misa — how she
had touched him, what she had said. He recalled the words clearly, but what did
they mean? I think you know what it meant, a voice inside him answered.
Tommy had stolen glances at young women now and then, but he had never spoken
so intimately with a girl, never been touched with that kind of intention. His
curiosity was piqued and his body was more than interested. And yet he felt
guilty somehow, caught out. That is not why I go to the castle. I am there to
work and to train and to become a brave and loyal samurai.
His mother came over, setting the rice over the fire to cook before sitting
next to him. “Thomas, darling, is something the matter? You seem far
away.”
He looked up to find kindness in her eyes. “Much has changed for me so
quickly, but I feel I am still so young.”
“Thomas, you are no longer a child. You are becoming a young man, and
you are ready for many more things than perhaps you realize.”
“Do you really think so, mother? Sometimes I am so uncertain.”
“Master Lambert is a brave samurai, and by learning from him you will
become a brave samurai as well. Your father would not have apprenticed you to
him if he were not a suitable teacher.”
Adam had indeed taught him many things in these last few weeks. What would he
say about Misa? Were there rules about this sort of thing? I should not do
something that would lead me to be disobedient. But who could tell him whether
this was disobedience? He knew the answer — he should ask Adam. We are
to be like brothers; I should not be afraid to ask what is expected of me.
That night, as he lie in his bed, Tommy thought back to the way Misa had
touched him, how it had sent sparks up his arm and terrified him; he was not
used to this feeling of wanting and fearing the same thing.

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The following morning Tommy arrived at the castle later than usual; the rain
had stopped but there were still many places where the road had been washed
out. He could hear a commotion from a good distance away, and urged his horse
faster to learn the cause.
When the castle came into view he saw that a massive tree had fallen and badly
damaged a large section of the outer wall of the courtyard. The wall was the
castle’s primary defense, and any injury to it left the daimyo’s
estate vulnerable. Its repair would be Lord Lambert’s highest priority,
and indeed when he approached he saw that Adam was directing servants with axes
to chop apart the tree’s massive trunk and remove it in segments from
where it lay against the battlement.
The stable, indeed most of the courtyard, was empty; all the servants who could
be spared would be working on the wall. Tommy tied up his horse and headed
quickly to the worksite to offer his assistance. “Thomas,” Adam
called when he saw him approach. “I am glad to see you are well. You and
your family weathered the storm safely?”
“Yes, thank you, sensei. But what happened here? Was anyone
injured?”
“You are always so thoughtful of others, Thomas,” Adam said,
smiling. “No, no one was harmed. But we must repair the wall
immediately.”
“Of course,” Tommy said, looking over the damage. “How may
I assist?”
“You can take an axe and join the workers. I must travel to the village
and inform the stonemason of our predicament.”
Tommy set to work and spent the rest of that day as well as all the next
splitting the tree and piling the wood in the courtyard to be used for firewood
and lumber. It was backbreaking work and Tommy’s body was sore, but less
so than he expected. By the morning of the third day, the debris was clear and
they could begin rebuilding as soon as the new load of stone arrived. The
stonemason’s son, a slight young man of about seventeen, had ridden in
an hour ago to inform the daimyo that the stone had been dispatched and the
first delivery would arrive that afternoon.
The daimyo permitted the workers to rest while they waited, and Tommy decided
to wander the grounds. He had been hoping for a chance to see the rock garden
that was behind the castle. Shiro had told him repeatedly about its beautiful
design, with a tall weeping cherry tree in the center. When he came upon the
garden he headed toward a stone bench in the shade of the castle wall and sat,
resting his tired muscles and enjoying the coolness of the shadows. Lady
Lambert tended this garden herself, and her care was evident in the way the
smooth path of river stones resembled a stream of flowing water amidst the
blue-green juniper bushes and red-leaved maples in the garden. At the far end
of the garden was the estate’s tea house, its sliding doors closed.
Tommy was staring at the small building, imagining the many mighty samurai and
esteemed daimyo who had shared tea inside. He did not hear Misa approach until
she was just a few yards away and said his name softly.
“Misa-chan, what are you doing here?”
“I saw you come back here, so I followed you,” she said, blushing
a little. “I hope it was not rude of me. I merely wonder how the repairs
are progressing.”
“The work is going quickly. We will start rebuilding as soon as the
stone arrives.”
“That is good,” she said, and came to sit beside him. In the cool
of the shade, he could feel the heat radiating off her body, just inches from
his. “Tommy, I am sorry if I offended you the other day. I did not mean
to be so forward.”
“No, Misa, do not apologize. It is just that… I do not yet know
all that is expected of me in my apprenticeship. I do not know what Master
Lambert would say about such things.”
“I see,” Misa said, brightening somewhat. “Tommy, Master
Lambert is himself no stranger to such trysts.” She glanced around
quickly, as though to ensure they were alone, and dropped her voice. “I
could show you, if you would like.”
Tommy hesitated. “What do you mean?”
She stood and held out her hand to him. “Come with me, but
quietly.”
They entered the castle through a small doorway by the tea house. Misa turned
through several different hallways until they were back in the corridor where
the guest rooms were located. She motioned for him to be silent and tiptoed
along the hall to the second room. Tommy followed behind and as they approached
the door he could hear noises, almost as if a struggle was taking place inside.
Misa indicated a slight gap where the screen door did not sit flush against the
doorframe. Tommy crouched down to peer through the opening and nearly lost his
balance in shock at what he saw.
Adam was standing over a cushioned divan. Beneath him was the
stonemason’s son, bent over the arm of the chair. They were both
completely unclothed, and the stonemason’s son was moaning and his
whitened knuckles gripped tight to the wooden frame of the chair. Behind him
Adam was snapping his hips forward, his hands wrapped around the waist of the
stonemason’s son. They were…
Tommy’s entire body burned. He should not be seeing this, and
yet… He sat back from the door and looked up at Misa, eyes wide. He knew
what intercourse was, had heard enough whispers from the boys in the village
who had older brothers. But he had never seen it. Yet here was his sensei, in
the act, with another man. He was a second away from turning back to look again
when Misa grabbed his arm and dragged him out the way they had come, not
stopping until they were back in the garden.
She leaned back against the wall, catching her breath. “That is what
your sensei thinks of such things,” she said, and her face and neck were
flushed.
Tommy just stared at her, feeling the blood pounding in his ears. His body was
hot, and above the confusion or shame or shock in his mind, there was also
curiosity, and arousal. It was overwhelming and insistent and he stepped
forward, pressed his mouth to Misa’s. He did not know what he was doing,
and in the moment he did not care; when Misa parted her lips he did the same,
and when she slid her tongue along his bottom lip he shuddered and pressed his
body up against hers. After a moment she pushed him back, panting, and when he
saw the trace of fear in her eyes he stepped back from her, nearly stumbling.
“Misa, I am sorry! That was… I got carried away. I —
”
“Tommy, no,” she said, reaching out to grab at his arm, but he
backed away from her.
“I should not have… Misa, please, I am sorry. I should go
— ” And with that he turned and fled down the path toward the
castle wall, leaving Misa to stare after him. He ran back to the stable,
needing something to keep his hands busy. He set to work polishing
Adam’s saddle, though it already shone, and he stared blindly into the
deep chestnut brown of the leather while his hands worked and his mind raced.
This morning he had come to the castle eager for the day. Since then he had had
his first kiss, and seen his sensei having sex with another man. Somewhere, at
the top of his mind, he knew these things were human nature and everyday
occurrences, but still they overwhelmed him. He wished desperately for someone
to tell him how to feel, because he was wildly uncertain. He knew not what
conclusions to reach, so he dwelt instead on the sensations: the soft give of
Misa’s mouth under his; the rush of fire in his gut at seeing Adam with
the stonemason’s son; the way the ground no longer felt steady under his
feet.
Shiro found him in the stable a short while later; the stone had arrived and
the workers were gathering to begin reconstructing the wall. “You have
put quite a shine on that saddle, Thomas,” he said with a laugh. Tommy
was quiet as he followed Shiro back, and said little the rest of the day,
pushing himself into the work until his arms nearly gave out from lifting stone
after stone.
“Is something wrong, Thomas?” Shiro asked as Tommy mounted his
horse in the evening and prepared for the ride home. Tommy simply shook his
head, gave a brief goodbye and nudged the horse toward the gate.
I am not cut out to be a samurai, was all he could think as he rode home. A
samurai should be brave, and yet here I am, afraid and unable to control my own
emotions. Adam does not shy away from what he feels. Even Misa does not. And
yet all I can do is run.
By the time he arrived home he felt sick from shame at his weakness and
confusion. He ate quietly and went straight to bed. In the morning he returned
to the castle and started immediately on the stonework. He did not seek Shiro,
nor Adam, nor Misa. At least I can be useful to the daimyo by working on the
repairs, he reasoned. This labor does not require bravery. It suits me far
better.

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Chapter 6
On a chilly night nearly years ago, a dark-haired young samurai apprentice
approached his master. The boy, not quite twelve, was shaking with fear, but he
steeled himself and moved forward, determined. He recited to himself the myriad
reasons he should not be afraid: I am a samurai apprentice. I have no fear. I
want this. He wants this. It is inevitable, just as death is inevitable..
The master had been sitting on his futon, reading, when the boy came to him.
“I am ready,” the apprentice said, and untied the sash of his
kimono. He slid the garment off, letting it fall to the floor, and stood before
his master in nothing but the thin pair of silk crepe trousers in which he
usually slept.
The samurai put aside the parchments he had been reading and looked up,
regarding the apprentice closely. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” The apprentice was sure to say it firmly, with no trace of
doubt in his voice.
“Then come to me.”
The boy stepped forward and dropped to his knees. He leaned in, squeezed his
eyes shut and pressed their lips together. After a few moments, he pulled back;
his face was hot and he could not make himself meet his master’s gaze.
Though the boy knew this to be his fated path, he was uncertain how to proceed.
His sensei understood his hesitation and reached up to cup the boy’s
face gently with his hand. “Let me show you.”
The master rejoined the kiss, then ran his tongue lightly over the boy’s
lower lip. The apprentice gasped, and as he opened his mouth the samurai
pressed his tongue inside. The apprentice met it with his own, and suddenly
every bit of the fear that had wracked him burned away in the heat coursing
through his body. He let himself go, heady with the sensation of it. His breath
quickened and when he could stand it no longer he broke the kiss, panting for
air and clinging with fingers tangled into the silk of his master’s
kimono, praying for his heart to slow its wild rhythm.
Master Nakata smiled at his apprentice and ran his fingers down the
boy’s bare arm. “I have waited so long for this, Adam.”

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The memory of his first night with Master Nakata crept into his mind as Adam
lay awake, tossing and turning. The remembrance was often clouded over with
nostalgia or melancholy, sparked by something that reminded him of his sensei
— a man who looked like Nakata, or who wore a kimono of the same sky-
blue silk. Tonight, however, the memory left him feeling weak and cowardly. At
only eleven years of age, he found the courage to go to his sensei and begin a
relationship that became his whole world. Now, at twenty-one, he was running
from the same thing, letting it drive him into the arms of another.
Earlier today, when he had been with the stonemason’s son —
Kaito, a friend since they were boys — Adam had sought relief from his
frustration, a quenching of his baser needs. It was far from the first time he
had taken a lover to satisfy his desires. Kaito, in fact, was a common
dalliance. But this time Adam knew he was seeking more than merely an outlet to
exhaust his passions. The coward in him had hoped his growing feelings for
Tommy were rooted in his lack of sexual release of late. But now, afterward, he
was no less drawn to Tommy; deep down, he had known this would be so, and he
chastised himself for being fool enough to think otherwise. His tryst left him
dissatisfied; though Kaito’s skin was young and smooth and pliant, he
was not the one Adam wanted.
For several days after, Adam was moody and aloof. The stonemason himself was
now overseeing the rebuilding of the castle wall, and Adam was glad of it. He
could not bear lingering at the worksite watching Tommy, shirtless and
sweating, dutifully carrying stone after stone, sinews stretched and bare skin
smeared with dirt and dust. Adam wanted so badly to go and take, but with Tommy
he could not. Part of him — the same reckless part that spent a year
hunting down rebels in the Western prefectures to escape the pain of Master
Nakata’s death — feared he would not have the restraint to wait
for Tommy to come to him. So he made his greetings to Tommy in the mornings and
evenings, and spent his days hidden away inside the castle.
Several commoners had been arriving over the past few days to report damages
from the same rainstorm which had brought down the tree and, under its weight,
the courtyard wall. Adam seized the opportunity to escape the confines of the
castle. He went to the daimyo and offered to investigate the most pressing
problems himself. “What of your apprentice?” his father asked.
“Will you take him with you?”
“He is providing valuable assistance in rebuilding the wall,
father,” Adam explained easily, having rehearsed answers to his
father’s likely questions in advance. “I should return in two
days. By then the wall will be finished and I shall resume his
training.”
“Very well,” Lord Lambert agreed.
That afternoon Adam found Tommy at the worksite. “Thomas, I must leave
in the morning. Several roads and bridges throughout the prefecture were washed
out by the storm, and the daimyo is sending me to survey the damage. I will be
gone for a few days. When I return, the wall should be finished and we will
continue your training.”
Tommy nodded feebly. Though he had taken on some color from so many days out in
the sun, his expression was still wan. “Yes, my lord.”
Adam could not tell if the boy was dejected or simply exhausted from working so
hard. He tried to put it out of his mind. When I return, I will confront this,
he told himself sternly as he headed back to the castle. A few days of solitude
out in the countryside will help me clear my mind and plan my strategy. I am a
samurai, and I am obligated to train my apprentice. I must overcome my weakness
and move forward.
He left early, before Tommy had even arrived at the castle, and that night he
camped in a stretch of meadow bordering the forest. As he lay on the cold
ground, he did not find the peace that such solitude usually brought him; it
was replaced by something he had fought hard these past three years to
vanquish: loneliness.
Since he lost his sensei, Adam had not allowed himself to develop feelings for
another. His dalliances with young men like the stonemason’s son were
frenzied entanglements behind closed doors where discretion took precedence and
conversations were little more than whispered directives and hushed grunts.
This absence of intimacy was intentional; he wanted nothing to do with any sort
of bond that could end in loss that could pierce him to his core the way Master
Nakata's death had.
But in truth, these thoughts were selfish, and weak. I am afraid. I am letting
fear compromise my responsibilities. This is not the way Master Nakata taught
me. This is not the way I swore to uphold.
Adam took a deep breath and set his resolve. First, he must teach Tommy about
the full extent of the relationship between apprentice and master. He would
explain wakashudo to the boy, and then he must step back and wait. He would
have to accept it if Tommy chose not to come to him. And if Tommy did come, he
would have to accept the possibility that one day he would lose Tommy as well,
whether it be in battle or simply because it would be best for Tommy to move
on.
Master Nakata always did what was best for me. Even when it was painful for us
both. Now I must do what is best for Tommy, no matter how much I fear the
aftermath. Fear is not the way of the samurai.
Adam spent the next day surveying the countryside for signs of damage from the
storm. He finished by nightfall, and the following morning he headed back to
the castle. On the way, as something of a preliminary gesture, he stopped at
Tommy’s family farm for a brief visit, to reassure his parents that
Tommy was doing well. They were grateful for his visit, and it put him in
better spirits for what still lay ahead of him. Back at the castle, he would
report to his father on the need for road and bridge repairs throughout the
prefecture, and then after the midday meal he would talk to Tommy.
Shiro came up to take Adam’s horse when he rode through the castle
gates. “Good morning, my lord! It is good to see you return safely from
your mission.”
“Thank you, Shiro. It is good to see you as well. Tell me, where is
Thomas?” Adam had scanned the courtyard and the stables, but his
apprentice was not in sight.
“He went back to the storage barn to bring more hay. It may be a while
until he returns. But you should speak to him, my lord. He has been very glum
of late.”
Adam did not expect the sharp reaction he had to Shiro’s statement.
“Is he alright? Shiro, tell me, what is wrong with Thomas?”
“I do not know, my lord. He is not ill, not in body anyway. But he has
been very quiet for several days now. And the enthusiasm he had for his work
is, well, lessened of late. He will not talk to me. Perhaps he will tell you
what is wrong.”
Adam hoped Tommy did not think he had abandoned him again. “Thank you
for your candor, Shiro. I plan to speak to Thomas this afternoon. I only hope
his distress is nothing I have caused.”
Shiro bowed his head and led Adam’s horse away. Adam headed into the
castle, agitated now, and made straight for the main chamber to speak with his
father.
The report took interminably long, as there were several roads in need of
repair and his father had many questions. By the time Adam made it back outside
the midday meal was ending and most of the servants had returned to their work.
Tommy was not amongst the stragglers still finishing their meals, so Adam
walked at a quick clip over to the stable, where he found Shiro was outside by
the trough. “Shiro, have you seen Thomas?”
Shiro looked up and shook his head. “Try the rock garden, my lord. He
has been going there after the meal. He says he wants to be alone.”
Adam nodded and hurried around the side wall of the castle to the garden.
Concern hastened his steps; Shiro’s words today had left him doubly
vexed. I have been so lost in my own worries that I have been blind the
distress my poor young apprentice is enduring. I must put this right
immediately.
But when he rounded the corner, all those thoughts fled from him like a
frightened animal, and in their place rose a feeling that seethed and burned in
his guts. Tommy was there, yes, but he was not alone. Misa was with him, her
body caught between his and the wall. Their faces, their mouths were pressed
together; her hand was in his hair, and his hand was sliding up her side,
closer and closer to her breast.
“Thomas!” Adam yelled, barely able to hear his own voice over the
blood pounding in his ears. Thomas jumped back, and they both looked at Adam
with eyes wide with terror. “Misa, get back to the kitchen. I must speak
to Thomas alone.”
Misa scurried away, bright red and terrified, and disappeared through the
doorway to the castle. When she was gone from view, Adam turned to Tommy, sick
from the thunder of his heart in his chest. Tommy stepped forward, already
apologizing, but Adam grabbed his upper arm vice-tight, and Tommy’s
mouth slammed shut. “What are you doing here, Thomas? Shirking your
duties to run off with some kitchen maid? That is not the way I have taught
you. You should be ashamed.”
“Adam, I am sorry, I — ”
Adam jerked his arm hard, cutting him off again. “I think it might be
more appropriate if you go back to calling me sensei.”
Adam watched it, the flicker as Tommy’s expression changed from fear to
anguish. Adam could see the tears welling in Tommy’s eyes and it was too
much to take; he needed to get away before he said or did something more he
regretted. He let go of Tommy’s arm and pushed him away. “Go back
to the stable, Thomas. Do whatever work Shiro gives you. I will find you
later.”
“Sensei, please, let me explain.”
“Not now, Thomas. Go!” He barked out the last word far more
harshly than he intended. This had all gone so wrong. He had come to restore
the footing on which he and Tommy stood; instead it was crumbling away beneath
them.
Tommy ran, and when he was gone Adam sat down on the bench and buried his face
in his hands. Once the adrenaline began to recede, his mind replayed for him
the look of pain on Tommy’s face. Why did I treat him so harshly? Am I
so reckless that I let a touch of jealousy turn me into a tyrant? My father was
right. Empathy, patience, prudence, wisdom — I have none of these
things.
Adam sat for a long while, alternately trying to calm his racing pulse and
berating himself for losing his temper so rashly. He felt cruel. Master Nakata
had trained him to be ferocious in battle, but he also taught that there is
never a place in this world for cruelty. Especially not toward those you hold
close to you. He looked out over the garden and tried to pull some of its peace
into his soul. He had to fix this, he knew. He prayed Tommy would forgive him.
He returned to the castle, looking first for some water to slake the painful
dryness in his throat. In the dining hall he saw Misa from the corner of his
eye. She was already trying to duck from view when he called her name. He
watched her small frame stiffen, and he walked toward her, calling her again
but softly, plaintively. She turned as he approached, and he could see she was
trembling.
“Misa, please, do not be alarmed. I called to you because I wanted to
apologize. I… I over-reacted. I was just… surprised.”
Misa was still shaking, but he could see a little of the tension drain from her
face. “I am so sorry, my lord,” she said, the words rushing out
in a torrent. “Punish me if you will, but please be gentle with Thomas.
I could not bear it if he came to trouble because of me. This is all my fault,
my lord, I am so sorry! It was only a kiss. Nothing more.”
Adam paused for a moment. “What do you mean, it is your fault?”
“I talked him into it. He was hesitant, he was so worried about what you
would think. I told him you would not be upset by it. I knew — ”
She stopped short and blushed, dropping her eyes to the floor.
Adam leaned forward and touched her arm gently, trying to be reassuring.
“Please Misa, I will not be angry. I am afraid my relationship with
Thomas is in great turmoil, and I must fix it. I need to know what
happened.”
She continued to stare at the floor, but started slowly, forcing out words a
few at a time. “I knew about you and the stonemason’s son. I told
Thomas that if you were allowed such trysts, then he should be too.”
This time it was Adam’s turn to blush. He had not realized anyone knew
of his relations with Kaito. And why would Tommy doubt Misa’s line of
reasoning? Adam had reprimanded him for something the boy had not thought
wrong.
“Thank you, Misa. And please do not worry. You are in no
trouble.”
“This will not hurt my father and his orchards?”
Adam smiled; she was a sweet girl. “Of course not, my dear. I only
request you refrain from asking my apprentice for any more kisses.” He
laughed as he said it, though his intent was clear.
“Yes, my lord.”
Adam turned away, meaning to go straight to the stable and find Tommy. But when
he entered the main hall, he stopped dead as his father roared his name.
“Adam! I must speak with you immediately!”
Adam was caught off guard. What had happened that his father was so upset? The
daimyo was already stalking toward him. He took Adam by the forearm and led him
into a small antechamber, closing the door for privacy.
“What is the meaning of this?!” his father hissed, seething but
keeping his voice low. The walls of this room were mere paper screens, and
shouting would have been heard throughout the main hall.
“What do you mean, father? What happened?”
“Thomas resigned! He came to me not ten minutes ago and asked me to
release him from his bond to you. He said he did not have the fortitude to
become a samurai; that he was sorry for wasting our time. Now tell me what
happened! What did you do to that poor boy?”
“I am sorry, father. I lost my temper with him, but I was just on my way
to apologize. I did not think it would come to this!”
“Go now, catch him, and apologize. He only left a few minutes
ago,” the daimyo said sternly. Adam took a step to leave, but his father
laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Adam, you had better pray that he
comes back.”
“Yes, father,” Adam said; he would indeed pray for that very
thing. He flung the screen open and dashed from the room.
“Shiro, my horse!” Adam cried with strained breath when he
reached the stable.
“Yes, sir,” Shiro called. Adam flung himself into the saddle as
soon as the horse was ready.
“Are you going after Thomas?” Shiro asked, rather forwardly, as
he fed the bit into the horse’s mouth and handed Adam the reins.
“Yes, Shiro, wish me luck.”
“Godspeed,” Shiro replied, giving the horse a swift smack on the
flank to hurry it toward the road.
Adam launched into a full gallop as soon as he cleared the gate, and it only
took a few minutes until a horse came into view ahead. It had the coloring of
Tommy’s steed, but the animal was simply standing on the side of the
road, riderless. Adam slowed as he approached and scanned the woods on either
side of the path. Soon he made out Tommy, sitting with his back to the road on
a fallen tree trunk just a few yards into the forest.
Adam drew his horse up beside Tommy’s and dismounted.
“Tommy,” he called. He approached slowly, and as he drew closer
he could see the boy’s back heaving and he could hear his choked-out
sobs. The sound cut like a knife in Adam’s chest, and he gave in to
haste, closing the distance to his apprentice with a few long strides. He
circled in front of Tommy and dropped to his knees on the forest floor.
“Please, Tommy, I came to apologize.”
Tommy took a deep breath before lifting his tear-streaked face and red eyes to
Adam’s. There was so much hurt there, and the pain in Adam’s gut
was akin to what it must feel to be run through with a sword. He leaned forward
and wrapped his arms around Tommy — whether to comfort himself or the
boy, he did not know — pulling Tommy tight to his chest like he had
wanted to so many times. “Tommy, please, I am so, so sorry. I was wrong
to get so upset. Misa told me what happened.”
Tommy did not return the embrace, but once his breathing became more even Adam
released him, hoping Tommy would hear him out. When their eyes met again,
Tommy’s were full of questions.
“You were right to be angry, Master Lambert. It is best this way. I do
not have the mettle to be a samurai. I am too afraid. I am too weak.”
“Tommy, no!” Adam said firmly. “You have at least as much
skill as I had at your age, and I began my training much earlier than
you.” Tommy looked at him with clear disbelief. “I realize there
is much I had the benefit of learning, even before my apprenticeship began.
There are many things you were never taught, and that is my failing, not
yours.”
Tommy stared at his hands in his lap, speaking softly. “I have many
questions, but I have been afraid to ask.”
Adam raised his hand and lifted Tommy’s chin so their eyes met.
“Tommy, you should not fear me. A samurai and his apprentice are
companions, brothers, even more.”
“I do not always feel you want me as your companion,” Tommy said,
turning his head away.
Adam sighed heavily. It was time. “Tommy, I know I have been keeping my
distance from you, but it is no reflection on your abilities. I have done
it… because I was afraid.”
“You are not afraid of anything, master.”
“Call me Adam, Tommy, please.” Adam shifted a little and
continued, softly. “And you are wrong. I am afraid.”
“What does a great warrior like you have to fear?”
Adam sat down on the trunk beside his apprentice, and took a deep breath before
he began. “First, I must explain something to you about the relationship
between a samurai and his apprentice. The bond between them has many facets.
They are comrades in arms; they are brothers; and, many times, they are
lovers.”
Adam paused, waiting for some response from Tommy, but there was none. Adam
gathered himself and continued, drawing upon his own childhood lessons.
“It is called wakashudo, this bond of love between a samurai and his
apprentice. Wakashudo is love in the absence of fear, it is love in the face of
death, and that is why it is the way of the samurai. Our lives are given to the
service of our lords, they are not our own. Wakashudo teaches the apprentice to
give himself over to his master without fear, just as he may be called at any
time to give himself over to death without fear. And it teaches the master to
become selfless, to put his apprentice above himself, just as he must put his
lord above himself.”
After a long pause, Tommy finally spoke. “Does this happen between all
samurai and their apprentices?”
“No,” Adam said. “Tradition dictates that the apprentice
must approach the master when he is ready. It can take years, or it may not
happen at all. The apprentice can initiate it, or he can choose not to.”
“What happens if the apprentice chooses not to?”
“Then the samurai continues to train the apprentice, and they are
comrades and brothers only. And friends, I hope.”
“Did you… did you have this relationship with your
sensei?”
Adam closed his eyes. “Yes. I loved my sensei deeply. He was my world.
His death was the most painful thing I have ever felt, worse than any battle
wounds. That, Tommy, is why I pushed you away. I was afraid of feeling the pain
of such loss again. But lovers or not, I realize now that that is precisely
what I need you to teach me, to conquer that fear and become selfless.”
“Do you want that? Do you want us to be lovers?”
Adam swallowed hard and felt heat rising on his skin. He would not meet
Tommy’s eyes. “I confess that I do. But if that is not what you
choose, you must know that I will train you just the same. I swear it on my
honor.”
Tommy sat back a little and wiped at his tears. Adam stood to give him space.
“First, Tommy, you must decide whether you wish to continue as my
apprentice. I know this is a great deal for you to consider, so I want you to
return home and take as much time as you need to think.”
Adam unfastened the gold-hilted wakizashi from his belt and presented the
sheathed blade to Tommy. “Here, I want you to take this. If you choose
to come back, then you can return this blade to me, and when you finish your
training both of these blades will be my gift to you when you become a samurai.
But if you do not return, then you may keep this wakizashi to remember me
by.”
“But Adam —”
Adam ran his fingers over the ivory hilt of the katana still suspended from his
belt. “These swords were given to me by Shogun Tokugawa himself. If I
have failed you as a sensei, then I do not deserve such a gift, for I do not
possess the courage the Shogun believed I did.”
“If these swords were a gift from the Shogun then they should remain
together! It seems wrong to split such a pair.”
Adam knelt down and pressed the blade into Tommy’s hand. “I
agree, Tommy, I think they do belong together. But that decision is yours to
make, not mine.” With that, Adam stood and walked to his horse.
“Farewell, Tommy. I pray I will see you again soon, but I will
understand if you choose not to return to me.” He mounted his steed and
started a fast canter back up the road; he needed to leave before he threw
himself at Tommy’s feet and begged the boy to come back.

[http://i1233.photobucket.com/albums/ff383/silverdreams42/bb/lbb2/lbb2-art-div-
                                  katana.png]
Chapter 7
Tommy sat a long while, staring at the crest of the road over which Adam had
disappeared. It took a moment to sink in, how things had spiraled out of
control when the day had started so ordinarily.
This morning he had arrived at the castle, setting straight to work and keeping
to himself, as he had for several days now. He had little to say to Shiro or
the other servants. All he could think of was Adam, naked and flushed and in
the throes of passion with the stonemason’s son, and the feel of
Misa’s skin under his fingers, her lips on his lips. This is not why I
am here, he kept rebuking himself. But the images would not fade; he felt
adrift and less sure of himself than ever.
He also felt terribly guilty. He had been avoiding Misa for days now, but he
knew he must apologize again for how rough he had been with her. As he worked
in the stable that morning, the repairs to the wall finally complete, he
resolved to speak to her, to tell her he was sorry. So as she brought out the
midday meal, he whispered to her to meet him in the garden.
Fifteen minutes later he rounded the castle wall and saw her sitting on the
bench, waiting for him. “Tommy,” she said, jumping to her feet.
“I am glad you asked me to meet you. I feel terrible about what
happened. I feel I pushed you into something you did not want.”
“No, Misa, I am the one who should apologize. I should not have…
I should have been gentler. I went too far.”
“Perhaps we both got carried away,” she said, reaching out to lay
a hand on his arm. He could see the pink blush rising in her cheeks.
“Perhaps… we could try again? If you would like...”
Then everything blurred. He had expected Misa to be upset with him, but she was
not. Her proposition caught him off guard. He could not say what made him think
a second kiss would go more smoothly than the first, but he took her by the
waist and brought their lips together. Hers were soft and parted under his, and
she leaned back against the castle wall and pulled him to her.
And then all of a sudden Adam was there, shouting Tommy’s name, and the
rest was panic and a thrashing nausea in his belly. Had Adam not grabbed him by
the arm he would have fallen to his knees in tears.
Adam’s words — “I think it might be more appropriate if
you go back to calling me sensei” — were the final push that shut
down every other feeling Tommy had save shame and despair. When Adam told him
to go, it was almost a relief. He could think of nothing but escaping this. I
was right all along. I am not fit to become a samurai. I belong back on the
farm. I should never have left it.
As he ran from the garden, everything suddenly became quite clear. He knew what
he needed to do. A strange calm descended on him as he entered the castle
through the front foyer and walked into the main hall. Lord Lambert was at his
large desk on the dais, speaking quietly with a servant. Tommy approached and
bowed to the daimyo. “Excuse me, my lord. May I speak with you for a
moment?”
The daimyo dismissed the servant and turned to Tommy, smiling. “Young
Thomas, how are you? I trust my son is training you well?”
“It is my training that I have come to speak with you about,”
Tommy said flatly, and to his own ears he did not sound like himself. “I
am ashamed to ask this, my lord, but I would like to be released from my
apprenticeship. I do not believe I will make a fitting samurai. My skills are
more suited to farm work.”
“Thomas, my son has told me you are quite adept,” Lord Lambert
frowned at him. “What is this really about? Has he done something to
upset you?”
“No, my lord,” Tommy said, his voice faltering. The
daimyo’s words were weakening his resolve, but he had to push through
this. “Master Lambert’s training has been faultless. I am simply
not… not suited for this. I know this was a generous reward you gave to
my family, and I am sorry that it was for naught. Please do not think less of
my father for the weakness of his son.”
“Thomas — ”
“I am sorry, my lord. I have wasted enough of your time. I should
go.” Tommy turned and rushed out of the main hall, his lungs burning
like there was no air to breathe. His face stung with tears before he even made
it outside. He ran to the stable and led his horse out, barely pausing to make
sure the saddle and reins were secure before mounting. He heard his name from a
distance and looked up to see Shiro hurrying toward him. “Goodbye,
Shiro,” he called as he made for the gate. He wanted to say more, but he
had to leave; he needed to get far away from this place.
He galloped out of sight of the castle before he drew his horse up on the side
of the road, weakly sliding off the beast to lurch into the woods and vomit.
Thankfully his canteen was still in his saddlebag; he rinsed the taste of bile
from his mouth and splashed water on his face. He gave himself a few minutes to
try to still the churning in his stomach, but as soon as he began to ride again
the sickness came back and he had to stop. When his feet hit the ground this
time they nearly gave out from under him, and it took all his energy to stagger
a few feet into the woods toward a fallen tree trunk. No sooner did he sit down
than the tears came back in a torrent, and all the fear and pain he had tried
to keep in check came clawing out of his chest in tortured sobs.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, and when he opened them
again, Adam was there.
Tommy had been so deafened by his own emotions he had not even heard Adam
approach. But Adam had come after him, was kneeling here in front of him. For a
split second Tommy panicked, afraid Adam had come to rebuke him for leaving,
but then Tommy saw the look on his face, the pain that was there. When he
pulled Tommy into his arms it was like a fog had lifted, and for the first time
Tommy could see beyond the chaos that had been closing in around him.
He sat and listened as Adam explained himself, and things began to fall into
place. Tommy had had so many questions, so much apprehension, and in just a few
minutes Adam had cleared it all away. He sat stunned as Adam laid the wakizashi
in his hands. Indeed, Adam had laid everything in his hands. Tommy realized in
that moment that becoming a samurai meant he would have to give Adam everything
in return.
Lovers.
When Adam had gone, Tommy recalled yet again the sight of Adam with the
stonemason’s son, but for the first time he did what before he had not
been brave enough to do. He imagined himself there with Adam, in place of the
other man. This morning, Tommy would not have believed Adam would see him that
way, would want him that way. But he does. He told me himself. A blaze of heat
shot through Tommy’s body. It was fear, in part, but it was much more
than that. He knew his body well enough at least to recognize physical desire.
He stared down at the sword in his hand, running his fingertips over the smooth
lacquered sheath. He had admired Adam’s swords on more than one
occasion. They were a gift from the Shogun. They must be among his most prized
possessions. And yet he would give this to me so readily, with no assurance
that I will return it.
Tommy breathed in the cool pine air of the forest as he regained his composure.
After a drink of water he felt steady enough to finish the ride home. When he
arrived his mother was working in the kitchen. “Tommy, you have come
home early. Is everything alright?”
He excused himself with mumbled words about feeling ill and retreated to his
room, carrying the wakizashi wrapped in a cloth so his mother would not see. He
made sure to close the door tightly and sat upon the tatami mat on the floor.
Slowly, reverently, he unwrapped the sword, unsheathed it so he could run his
fingertip along the finely honed edge. When a knock came at the door it
startled him from his thoughts, so much he nearly cut himself on the blade. He
sheathed the weapon and tucked it underneath his mattress before bidding his
visitor enter.
“Son?” his father said in a worried tone as he slid open the
door. “Your mother said you looked unwell. Is anything the
matter?”
Tommy sighed deeply, the emotional toll of the day still heavy on his
shoulders. “Father, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” his father said, coming to sit beside him.
“Tell me what is troubling you.”
“Why do you want me to become a samurai so badly?”
“Tommy,” his father said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“You are so bright, so strong and brave, loyal and compassionate. You
have all the talents a samurai requires. It would be a shame waste you on
nothing but farm work.”
“You think I have the talents to become a samurai?” Tommy asked.
But father, how are you so sure? What do you see that I do not?
“Of course I do! And so does your sensei. Master Lambert stopped to
speak with me just this morning. He said he was very pleased with you.”
“He did?” Tommy was surprised; he had not known.
“He did not tell you?”
“No. Master Lambert and I — ” Tommy stopped, unsure of how
to explain or where to begin. He was certain every vivid detail of the past few
days would come pouring out of him if he let it.
“Did something happen?”
“We had a misunderstanding today, Master Lambert and I,” Tommy
said in a stilted voice, pushing through the tightness in his throat. “I
was upset, and I asked to be relieved of my apprenticeship.” It made him
sick to say the words, and even sicker to see his father's reaction.
“Tommy, why?” His father's words came weakly, and while his
concern was evident, Tommy cringed at the disappointment that was now dimming
his father’s visage.
“They asked me not to go, both Master Lambert and the daimyo
himself,” Tommy said quickly, eager to assuage his father's heartbreak.
“I mean to go back. Tomorrow. I will humble myself before Lord Lambert
and beg his forgiveness.”
“I will go with you, I will speak to the daimyo,” his father said
firmly. But Tommy shook his head.
“No, father, I know you wish to help, but I must do this myself. If I
mean to become a samurai, I must fight my own battles.”
His father smiled. “Tommy, why do you doubt yourself? You are already
braver than you think.”
Tommy blushed, but the reassurance from his father was heartening.
“Father, there is another question I would like to ask you.”
“Of course.”
Tommy trained his eyes on the floor and felt the heat in his cheeks as he spoke
in little more than a whisper. “Do you know what wakashudo is?”
“Oh,” his father said with some surprise. “I am aware of
the intimate relationship that can develop between a master and an apprentice.
It is common among samurai as well as the Buddhist monks, and it even occurs
among many tradesmen.”
Tommy frowned. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I am sorry, Tommy. I wish I could have prepared you more
thoroughly,” his father said with a sigh. “I will tell you this,
though I should not. When the daimyo came here and offered us your
apprenticeship, he and I spoke at length. He asked me not to tell you, for
now.”
“I do not understand.”
“His intention was not to leave you unprepared, son. He simply wanted to
give you some time before such a relationship became an issue. You had no
previous training, and so you would have far more to learn than most
apprentices your age. And Master Lambert…” Tommy’s father
paused. “The daimyo thought he might need time as well.”
“Why?”
“Tommy, you know that Master Lambert’s own sensei died in battle
a few years ago?” Tommy nodded. “Master Lambert was deeply
affected by the loss. He left on his own to go fight in the Western lands, and
did not return or even send word for a full year. Lord Lambert expected it
would take time for him to truly embrace his role as sensei and consider such a
path with his own apprentice.”
Part of Tommy wished it had taken longer, wished he had more time. But he
recalled the brittleness in Adam’s voice when he spoke of the pain of
losing Master Nakata. Tommy found himself wanting to go to Adam now, to offer
some sort of comfort. “What should I do, father?”
“The tradition of wakashudo dictates that the apprentice approaches the
master when he is ready. You are the only one who can decide.”
“But how do I know?”
“Knowing what you want is often not the challenge, son. The challenge is
conquering the doubt that stands between you and it.”
Tommy had to laugh at his father’s words. Doubt had been his master of
late, a looming presence that clouded his thoughts. Not always, he reminded
himself. Not when I am with Adam.
“Fate often sets us on the right path, though we may not see it until it
is already under our feet,” his father said. “It was fate that
you and Master Lambert became sensei and apprentice. You and he are very
different in some ways, but alike in many others. Like you, he is brave and
strong and full of compassion. I would not have agreed to your apprenticeship
if I did not believe that to be true.”
Tommy nodded; he had a great deal to think about.
His father made to stand, but paused and turned back to his son. “Before
I go, let me tell you a story. I was not much older than you when your mother
and I were betrothed. My father grew rice here on the farm; your mother's
family owned a market in town. Our marriage was arranged to facilitate
business.”
Tommy knew his uncle ran the shop in the village where their rice was sold. He
had never known, however, that this economic connection was what brought his
parents together. “What happened?”
“The first time I met your mother she was dressed in a ceremonial
kimono, her face painted white and her hair swept up into elegant
braids.” Tommy's father had a faraway look as he spoke. “She was
beautiful, and I… I was too intimidated to even approach her. But then
she took my hand, and smiled at me, and I knew everything would happen just as
fate intended. And because of her I have had more blessings — the
greatest of which is you, my son — than I could have dared hope.”
“Even if I would choose not to go back to my training?”
“Your mother and I love you, Tommy. If you choose to give up your
apprenticeship, that would not change. You must make your own choices, but that
does not mean you are alone.” His father stood, squeezing Tommy gently
on the shoulder as he made to leave. “Whatever you choose, just
remember: there is no need for doubt.”
Tommy watched him leave, and then pulled the wakizashi from under the mattress.
He withdrew the blade just a few inches from the sheath and caught his own
reflection in the sharp steel. The challenge is conquering the doubt that
stands between you and what you want. The doubt he had felt today had been
maddening; he never wanted to feel so lost, so powerless again. Fear had nearly
cost him everything.
He snapped the blade back into its sheath with finality. For a long time he
stared out the window, watching night fall and blanket the rice paddies in
steadily darkening shades of green. When he could fight the urge no longer, he
quietly slipped his hand inside the soft fabric of his trousers and thought of
Adam as he wrapped his fingers around his cock. Will it feel like this when he
touches me? Will he want me to touch him too? He stroked himself and bit his
lip to keep from moaning; the unknown, he began to realize, might be
frightening, but the way it made his pulse pound was thrilling too.
Tommy slept fitfully that night with the wakizashi clutched to his chest, his
body restless and his mind anxious. In the morning he rose early, eager to get
to the castle and set things back on the proper path.
As soon as he arrived at the castle he entered the main hall and approached the
daimyo at his desk. Tommy dropped to his knees, prostrating himself.
“Lord Lambert,” he said contritely, “I come to apologize
for my behavior yesterday. My words were said in haste. I humbly beg that you
allow me to withdraw my request so I may return to my apprenticeship.”
“Please, Thomas, you may rise.” Lord Lambert stood and walked up
to Tommy; his tone was gentle and he laid a reassuring hand on Tommy’s
arm. “I am thankful you have reconsidered. Welcome back.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Tommy said, bowing deeply though it was not
enough to show his gratitude. “Please, sir, if there is anything I can
do to repay this great kindness, I am at your disposal.”
“I only ask that you go with haste to see my son. He has been in great
distress since you left. Go put his mind at ease.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Tommy hurried out to retrieve the wakizashi from his saddlebag, then forced
himself to walk calmly toward the wing of the castle that housed the quarters
of the daimyo and his family. He had passed through here before briefly, though
he had never entered any of the rooms. He treaded softly and took a deep breath
when he reached the door of the chamber he knew to be Adam’s. He rapped
lightly on the screen and his heart leapt when Adam’s voice rang out
from inside, bidding him enter.
He slid the door open to find Adam sitting by the window, staring up at the
mountainside that loomed over the back of the castle. A gentle breeze carried
the fresh scent of pine into the room. Tommy swallowed hard and stepped
forward, clutching the wakizashi tight in his hands.
“Good morning, sensei.”
Adam jumped to his feet. “Tommy? What… What brings you
here?”
Tommy held out the gold-hilted blade. “A samurai should always carry two
swords. A katana is not complete without a wakizashi.”
Adam’s eyes fell on the sword, then fixed on Tommy’s face,
searching. After a long moment he spoke. “Just as a master is not
complete without his apprentice.” His voice was quiet but tense.
“Then it is fortuitous the daimyo has already agreed to reinstate my
apprenticeship.” Tommy set the dagger on the small table by the door and
walked forward, stopping when only inches remained between them. He faced Adam
fully, looking up into his wavering blue eyes. “You said I could return
your wakizashi and resume my training, and that is what I have come here to do,
with no more reservations. Tradition dictates, after all, that the apprentice
must come to the master.”
“Tommy, what are you saying?”
“Wakashudo. You said the apprentice approaches the master when he is
ready.”
Adam shook his head. “You do not need to do this to resume your
training, Tommy. I did not mean for you to think that.”
Tommy fought the urge to reach out, to touch. “I know that, Adam. I am
here because I am ready.”
Adam did not speak, but he seemed pained, as though something was stopping him
from believing Tommy’s words. I must show him there is no need for
doubt.
“When I first began my apprenticeship, I believed that to be a samurai,
one must have no fear. But I was wrong. I have learned that a true samurai is
not great because he is fearless; rather, he is great because he faces his fear
and overcomes it. I want to do that, and I need you to show me how.”
Tommy reached up, finally, and touched his fingers lightly to Adam’s
cheek. “Show me everything.”
Time slowed as Adam lifted his hands to Tommy’s face. An eternity passed
in the brief moment it took for Adam to lean down and meet Tommy’s just-
parted lips with his own. The kiss was only still pressure at first, until
Tommy could no longer stand the anticipation. He shifted forward to bring their
bodies together and wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist. The contact
seemed to trigger something in Adam. He slid his hand up into Tommy’s
hair, tugging just slightly to tip Tommy’s head back. Tommy yielded to
Adam’s hands, and to his mouth as Adam slid his tongue across
Tommy’s lips and inside. This was nothing like kissing Misa. With Adam
it was as though there was no air in the room, no light and no sound; Adam
overwhelmed every sense as though he were enveloping Tommy completely.

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Chapter 8
What if he does not return? Leaving Tommy in the forest had felt like cutting
off an arm, and since that painful moment Adam had been riddled with doubt. You
would have no one to blame but yourself if he does not come back. You were so
worried about what you had to lose, you wound up driving him away. He knew
Tommy needed time. And yet every passing minute ate away at Adam’s hope.
He spent the next morning attempting to meditate, to will away his apprehension
and find the fortitude to be patient. He had not left his room, so when a knock
came at the door he assumed it was his mother coming to encourage him to eat,
or a servant sent by his father with some duty to perform.
When he heard Tommy’s voice he swore it was a dream. Not even a full day
had passed and yet there Tommy stood, shoulders squared, voice quiet but firm,
grasping Adam’s sword in his long, nervous fingers. When Tommy
approached him, laid a hand on his face and asked for everything, Adam could
not believe it to be real.
Dream or no, he could not fight the urge to lean down and press his lips to
Tommy’s at last. He wanted… he wanted. When Tommy pressed in
close, Adam helplessly threaded his hands into the boy’s hair and kissed
him deeply. Tommy tasted of sugar cane and smelled of fresh air and earth and
horses from his ride. It was a heady mix that weakened Adam’s restraint.
He tore himself away, fearful of losing himself in it.
But as Adam pulled back, Tommy dug his fingers in to Adam’s garments and
would not let go. He looked up at Adam, panting, and his voice sounded
desperate when he spoke. “Do not stop, Adam. Please…”
How can I say no when he begs for it? Adam pressed kisses to Tommy’s
neck, running his tongue over the sensitive flesh there. He moved lower, down
to the hollow of Tommy’s collarbone, pulling aside the fabric of
Tommy’s tunic. He wanted Tommy bare, he wanted to run his hands and his
mouth over Tommy’s smooth chest, stomach, hips. The desire was
spreading, snaking hot tendrils through Adam’s belly; he was about to
stop himself, while he still could, when Tommy untied his sash and dropped it
to the ground. Adam’s breath caught in his throat as the front of
Tommy’s garment fell open to reveal his young, pale skin. Tommy lifted
his hand to remove the tunic, but Adam stilled his movement.
“Please,” Adam said, his voice hushed. “Let me.”
Tommy let his arm fall to his side as Adam slid warm hands up under the fabric,
slipping it off as he ran his fingertips down over the skin of Tommy’s
shoulders. Once the garment had fallen to the floor, Adam led Tommy to the
cushioned chaise in the room. “Lie down, and let me show you. I promise
I will stop anytime you ask.”
Tommy lay on the chaise, shivering when the cool brocade fabric came in contact
with his bare skin. Adam dropped to his knees, and he barely had the patience
to let Tommy settle himself before Adam’s hands were on his chest,
dragging gently over his flesh, over every inch of skin, every rib, every
muscle. When his fingers grazed over Tommy’s nipples, Tommy jerked up
into the touch and Adam had to remind himself to breathe. Slowly, slowly. This
is for him… He leaned down to kiss Tommy again and slid his hands lower
still, and when he skimmed the sensitive skin below Tommy’s navel, Tommy
whimpered into his mouth.
Adam sat back, brushing fingers through Tommy’s hair. “Have you
ever been intimate like this with anyone, Tommy?” Embarrassed, Tommy
blushed pink as he shook his head.
“This was new to me too, the first time with my sensei,” Adam
said, wanting to ease Tommy’s anxiety. “Do not be shy, do not be
embarrassed. Just trust me and let yourself go. Let me show you how good it can
feel.”
Tommy took a deep breath and nodded, and Adam began sliding his hand down the
outside of Tommy’s leg, over the rough fabric of his trousers. Adam
watched Tommy’s face for any sign of hesitation as he pulled his hand
back up slowly, shifting toward the inside of Tommy’s thigh. The
anticipation was palpable, painful almost. He moved his hand closer, and his
heart was racing as he watched Tommy’s mouth fall open and his eyes grow
wide. Slowly, slowly, Adam kept repeating to himself, but Tommy’s body
was tense and he was biting his lip and finally Adam could no longer hold back.
He pressed his palm against the front of Tommy’s trousers, where his
hard cock strained against the fabric; Tommy moaned and dug his fingers into
the cushions of the chaise.
“Do you want me to stop?” Adam managed to whisper. He let out a
breath in relief when Tommy shook his head vigorously, staring up at Adam with
pleading eyes. Thank the heavens, because I am not sure I have the strength to
stop now.
“I never told you this,” Adam said breathlessly as he yanked at
the tie of Tommy’s trousers. It came loose and Adam started shoving down
the fabric, trying hard to keep control of his own desires as Tommy’s
cock sprang free. “During our hunting trip, when you went to the creek
to bathe… I came upon you there, lying naked on a rock, touching
yourself. I wanted to go to you so badly, touch you, just like
this…”
Adam wrapped his hand fully around Tommy’s cock, hot bare skin to hot
bare skin, and Tommy threw his head back. His mouth stretched open, wide but
silent, and Adam just watched him, enthralled by how beautiful he was like
this. When Adam started squeezing his cock lightly and rubbing his thumb over
the head, Tommy snapped his hips up and groaned. “Good, good,”
Adam said gently. “Let your body do as it pleases. Do not hold
back.”
Adam started working his hand up the length of Tommy’s cock, dragging
the wetness from the tip back down. Tommy was breathless and writhing and his
lips were red and wet and parted, so flawless, so innocent it made
Adam’s chest ache. “I do not know what I would have done if you
had not come back to me,” Adam whispered, the words falling from his
lips. To stop himself he pressed his mouth to Tommy’s throat,
Tommy’s pulse pounding under his tongue.
“Adam!” Tommy cried out, and it cut through Adam’s desire
enough to make him slow his hand and look up at Tommy. He saw the struggle on
Tommy’s face, how he was trying to hold on.
“Do not fight it, Tommy. Let go for me.” Adam pumped his hand
faster, and Tommy’s eyes were wide and he was thrashing and gasping for
air.
Finally, Tommy let go. He moaned wildly as he came, and Adam coaxed him gently
through it, whispering praise in his ear. Tommy laid there, chest heaving and
blinking up at Adam, who brushed his fingers lightly along Tommy’s cheek
and smiled.
Adam waited for Tommy to catch his breath before he leaned in to kiss him
again, long and slow and empty of tension. Tommy brought his hand up to rest on
Adam's shoulder, and when Adam broke the kiss Tommy was looking up at him with
a dazed smile. "Are you alright?" Adam asked, running a thumb over Tommy's
swollen, wet lip.
Tommy chuckled, and the blush in his cheeks darkened again. "Yes," he said
quietly, trailing his hand down Adam's arm. "I knew I needed to come back to
you."
Tommy’s words struck something deep in Adam. Every grain of hesitation
he had felt seemed suddenly a thousand miles, a thousand years away. There was
only this moment, and this perfect boy in his arms.
He wanted to stay there for hours, but outside the bell for the midday meal
began to ring and brought them both back to reality. "Let me fetch a cloth,"
Adam said, rising. Tommy pushed up on his elbows and watched as Adam wiped his
stomach clean and adjusted his clothing back into place.
When he finished, Tommy looked up at him with some trepidation. "What
now?”
Adam settled on the chaise next to Tommy and wrapped his arms around him,
resting his chin against Tommy’s forehead. "Now you continue your
training, and wakashudo is a part of that, when you want it to be."
“Will I go back to training with Shiro?”
That made Adam pause. The idea of spending his days separate from Tommy was no
longer appealing. Though he had no strategy prepared, he knew it was time to
move forward. "No, I think it is time I begin training you myself."
"Do you mean it?"
"Tomorrow we shall give you a sword and see how you fare. I would be remiss not
to at least teach you some defense. Though we have had peace for several years
now, it is a samurai's duty to always be on guard. I shall gather the equipment
and be waiting for you in the morning."
Tommy looked up at him with big, bright eyes. “Thank you,
sensei.”
Adam reluctantly withdrew his arms from around Tommy's warm body. He caught
Tommy by the chin, placing one last kiss at the corner of his mouth. "You will
not be sorry that you chose to come back, Tommy. I will make certain of
it.”
Tommy smiled, his eyes still glassy and his face still flushed. “I
know.”
Adam watched Tommy leave the room, still a little surprised at how readily
Tommy had chosen to give himself over. It was humbling, and Adam pledged to
himself that he would not take advantage of it. He forced himself up,
straightening his garments before he left the room. He kept himself busy with
his father’s administrative affairs for the rest of the day, but his
mind drifted back over and over to Tommy, stretched out and naked under his
hands.

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Chapter 9
Tommy spent the afternoon in a daze. He stumbled back to the stable, stopping
to splash water on his face first to try to restore some clarity. He buried
himself in work, his hands moving mechanically while he unsuccessfully tried to
keep from mentally replaying his encounter with Adam over and over. His skin
sparked hot at the memory of Adam’s hands on his body, and he got so
lost in the memory that he jumped when Shiro came up behind him and called his
name.
“Tommy, are you alright? What has been going on?”
Tommy explained some of what had happened, preferring to leave out the intimate
details. Shiro, to his credit, did not pry. Rather, he clapped Tommy on the arm
and smiled broadly. “I am glad you came back. And I am glad that Master
Lambert has finally taken on your training. It is as it should be. Though I
will miss your help here.”
That evening as he rode home Tommy thought again of Adam. What other things
will he teach me? How long until he touches me like that again?
He was anxious in the morning, but Adam was waiting for him. They rode about
twenty minutes west to a wide, flat expanse of meadow that was still
uncultivated. There they tied their horses under a cropping of trees and Adam
pulled two wooden swords from the long satchel on his horse.
They moved out into the field, under the warm morning sun, and started with the
basics: how to hold the hilt of the sword correctly; proper stance; keeping up
one’s guard. When Adam would show him a stance he would press his body
in behind Tommy’s to adjust his position, and Tommy would flush and try
not to tremble at the contact. Adam would take his hands and bend his fingers
just so around the hilt of the sword, and Tommy would swallow hard and try not
to think of Adam’s hands wrapped around his cock.
Finally they got to sparring, and Tommy tried to keep his mind on the task at
hand. Adam began with some very basic attacks, slowed down considerably, and
showed Tommy the proper way to block with his sword. It was challenging but
exhilarating, and Adam began moving faster, praising Tommy for keeping up.
“Good, Tommy! You are very quick, use your speed to block and then push
back against my sword.” The cool breeze carried the clash of their
swords over the grasses of the meadow as they practiced. They were breathing
heavy before long and the sun was growing much warmer as it travelled higher in
the morning sky. Finally Adam paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and called
to Tommy to rest for a while. “Let us sit in the shade and have some
water.”
Tommy’s arms were tired and he was hot but the adrenaline was still
coursing in his blood as he followed Adam to the shade of the trees. Adam took
his canteen from his horse’s saddlebag and handed it first to Tommy. He
took a long drink and when looked up he saw that Adam was stripping off his
tunic. He stood there staring with a mouthful of water, forgetting for a moment
to swallow as he took in the blanket of freckles over Adam’s broad
chest, the chisel of muscle down his stomach, the dark swatch of hair under his
navel. Adam took the canteen from him and Tommy watched as he tipped it back,
watched the long stretch of his neck and the way his throat constricted as he
drank. Tommy could feel his pulse in his ears and he suddenly wanted to know
how hot Adam’s skin was, how the hair on Adam’s chest would feel
under his fingers, what Adam would do if Tommy touched him.
Tommy’s eyes were still rooted to Adam’s torso when Adam said his
name. “Tommy?”
Words would not come to him, so Tommy silently stepped forward and reached out
a hand, tracing a rivulet of sweat down Adam’s chest, feeling the rise
and fall of muscle and bone and sinew and the heat that radiated into his
fingers. He stopped at the bottom of Adam’s ribs and looked up
uncertainly. But Adam was already pulling him close, snaking a hand up under
the fabric of Tommy’s tunic to rest firmly on his hip. “You can
touch me,” he said, tossing the canteen aside. “I want you to
touch me.”
Tommy brought both hands up to Adam’s throat, dragging them down harder
this time over his neck and the firm lines of his collarbone, feeling for the
places that were soft and the places that were hard under his touch. He almost
expected the freckles to move along the path of his fingers like ripples in the
water, but instead they stayed fixed to Adam’s skin and Tommy followed
them lower this time, to where they collected along the dipping line of
Adam’s hips. His fingers twitched, tempted to tug at Adam’s
trousers and see how much further down the freckles went.
“You can keep going, if you want to,” Adam said quietly, his hand
squeezing tighter on Tommy’s hip. “Or we could just sit here in
the shade together. Whatever you want, Tommy.”
Tommy swallowed. He was nervous but he could feel how hard he already was, and
it was getting difficult to separate wanting to touch Adam and wanting Adam to
touch him. “Sit… please,” Tommy managed in a rough voice,
and when they were both on the ground Tommy pressed up against him again,
kissing him now that their height difference was mediated. Adam leaned back and
let Tommy in, and when Adam parted his lips Tommy pressed his tongue into
Adam’s mouth, thrilling at the sigh it drew from Adam. What else will
make him moan? What else will make him shudder for me? Tommy did not even blush
at the thought; the pounding of his pulse was pushing his propriety aside.
Tommy pressed Adam’s shoulders back and started kissing down his throat,
down his chest, his skin salty and hot under Tommy’s mouth. He flicked
his tongue over Adam’s nipple, drawing out a moan, and when he did it
again Adam wrapped his fingers into Tommy’s hair. Adam reclined all the
way back to lie flat on the grass, and Tommy traced his tongue all the way down
to Adam’s waist, feeling Adam’s breath quicken as he moved lower.
Finally Adam tugged Tommy back by his hair and looked down with desperation in
his eyes. “Please, Tommy…”
This was a different pleasure altogether, seeing such desperation in
Adam’s eyes. For me, Tommy thought, and it brought with it a strange
rush of power. He climbed up and stretched himself out alongside Adam, kissing
him again as he tugged at the tie of Adam’s trousers. “Take them
off,” Tommy said, and he watched Adam’s eyes widen at his words.
“Are you sure?”
Tommy was not sure what he was doing, but he was sure that he wanted to do it.
“Will you… will you show me what to do?” he asked,
blushing.
“Of course.” Adam slid his trousers and undergarments down,
revealing his cock lying fat and hard along his stomach. It was bigger than
Tommy had expected, and at the base was a thick nest of dark hair, much more
than Tommy had. The skin was tight, stretched, and with bluish veins standing
out along the shaft and a glint of wetness at the head.
Tommy froze for a moment, a burst of panic. What do I do? Am I certain about
this? He forced it down and reached out slowly, feeling Adam’s eyes on
him as he wrapped his fingers around the hot flesh. Adam jerked under his hand
and let out a shudder. “Tommy…” Adam rasped, and Tommy
looked up to see him propped up on his elbows, watching intently. Tommy
adjusted his grip and began to slide his hand up tentatively, and then back
down. This is not so different from touching myself, he thought, and moved his
hand faster.
Adam’s breathing was ragged and he clenching his jaw, and after a minute
he looked up at Tommy with anguish creasing his face. “Tommy, can
I… can I show you?”
Tommy nodded, and Adam raised his hand and wrapped it around Tommy’s,
closing them both tightly over Adam’s cock. “Move your hand with
mine,” Adam whispered and began stroking himself, and he took
Tommy’s hand with his own. Adam’s hand squeezed tighter around
Tommy’s, and he was groaning Tommy’s name.
Tommy pulled himself closer, pressing his body tight against Adam’s,
grinding his cock against Adam’s hip. His own body was aching for
friction and he started tugging down his own trousers as best he could with his
free hand, needing to feel Adam’s bare flesh against his own. When his
cock was free he thrust against the hot skin of Adam’s thigh and moaned
at the sensation.
Adam let go of Tommy’s hand and turned over on his side, and when he was
facing Tommy he pulled their hips together, drawing a gasp from Tommy as their
cocks rubbed together. Tommy’s was smaller and his skin was paler, but
when Adam wrapped his hand around them both and started pumping his fist, Tommy
could do nothing but cry out and grab onto Adam’s hip for purchase. It
was hot and rough and sticky from sweat and the precome that was leaking from
both their cocks, and Tommy had never felt anything like it.
“Adam…” he whimpered, knowing this was something he had no
chance of fighting.
Adam did not stop; he pressed his lips to Tommy’s ear and urged him over
the edge. “Come for me, Tommy.” With a shout Tommy obeyed,
bucking helplessly into Adam’s hand as Adam kept milking them both,
smearing Tommy’s come down both their shafts. Tommy could still feel his
muscles spasming when Adam came, pulling Tommy tight against his body. The hot
fluid splashed against his stomach, sliding down toward the grass, but Tommy
did not think he could move his body if he tried. They stayed locked that way
for a long time, Tommy’s face pressed to Adam’s chest.
“Did I do well, sensei?” Tommy asked finally, his voice small and
his words mouthed against Adam’s skin.
Adam lifted Tommy’s chin with a finger and his eyes were blue and
sparkling. “Tommy, you are perfect. Everything about you is
perfect.”
Tommy just smiled and lay back in the cool grass.
They cleaned up in the nearby creek and sat down to the lunch of rice and
salted fish that Misa had packed for them. Tommy found himself telling Adam
about how he and Misa were playmates as children, about how they would climb
the trees in Misa’s father’s orchard and play hide-and-seek
amidst the rice bushels in Tommy’s father’s storehouse.
“I did not have such playmates when I was young,” Adam said
rather forlornly. “There were no other children in the castle. Our
youngest servants were still much older than me. For many years my father was
away fighting alongside the Shogun, so my mother had to see to most of the
political matters of the territory. I played alone mostly, or read scrolls in
the library that were meant to prepare me to become a samurai. Until my
apprenticeship began. Then Master Nakata was my companion.”
It struck Tommy then that Adam had spent much of his life lonely. Even the son
of a daimyo has his own burdens to bear. He was suddenly grateful for his
parents, who always had time for him, and the other village children who had
been his playmates over the years. “I would be pleased to be your
companion now,” Tommy offered quietly.
Adam was silent for a while, and Tommy was almost afraid that he had said too
much, when Adam reached out and took Tommy’s hand in his own. “I
would like that too,” Adam said, and Tommy could hear the strain in his
voice. Tommy kept his eyes fixed out on the snow-capped peaks of the mountains
that rose in the distance, but when Adam moved closer and wrapped an arm around
Tommy’s shoulder, Tommy let himself fall against Adam’s chest and
closed his eyes.

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The next few weeks passed similarly, though the attempts at training became
more and more pretentious, more foreplay than education. They spent long hours
kissing, or lying together in the sun, or swimming naked in the river, or
dragging curious fingers and mouths over stretches of hot skin.
Eventually Adam had to remind them both that they could not be so neglectful of
Tommy’s training, though for as eager as Tommy had been to learn
swordfighting, he did not mind shirking it to lie wrapped in Adam’s
arms. They found a balance, focusing most of the day on attacking and
defending, but sneaking in a few intimate moments nonetheless. More than
anything, Tommy looked forward to rain, because he could often spend the entire
day sprawled on the soft goosedown mattress of Adam’s bed, and much of
that time Adam would be stretched out beside him, or above him. Twice the
daimyo sent Adam out to address administrative issues in the prefecture. On
both trips Tommy accompanied him, and as they camped in the woods at night
Tommy savored the chance to sleep pressed to Adam’s warm body.
It was easy to forget everything that had happened before, how there had been a
time when Tommy doubted any of this. Until one morning a several weeks later
when he arrived at the castle and Adam was not waiting for him. “Shiro,
have you seen Master Lambert?” Tommy asked as he led his horse into the
stable.
Shiro came over, taking the reins from Tommy as he dismounted. “Last
night after you left a messenger arrived with a report that the main bridge on
the road to Kyoto is about to collapse. The stonemason’s son arrived
early this morning, and he and Master Lambert have ridden out to survey the
site.”
It took a moment for the memory to seat itself front and center in
Tommy’s mind, of that morning more than two months ago when he and Misa
snuck into the castle and spied on Adam having sex with the stonemason’s
son. But once the image was in his head it was immovable, and it rocked Tommy
to the core with jealousy. He could not even chase down with words the frantic,
half-formed thoughts that ricocheted in his mind. He stood staring helplessly
at the castle gate until Shiro’s warm hand on his shoulder snapped him
back to the present.
“Thomas?” Shiro was laughing, “Are you so taken with
Master Lambert that you know not what to do without him? There is plenty to do
here in the stable, you know.”
Tommy shook the uneasiness from his mind and tried a smile. “Of course,
Shiro, I would be happy to help.”
The bridge on the road to Kyoto was a three-hour ride; it would be late in the
day before Adam would return, even with such an early start. Tommy spent the
morning in the stable, then joined Shiro and Misa for the midday meal. The pair
had been pursuing a budding romance for nearly a month. They were quite happy,
stealing kisses behind the stable and smuggling apples from the larder to feed
one another in the garden. Tommy was happy for them, and when he learned of
their relationship he asked Adam to allow them to eat together. Adam had joked
about being glad Misa no longer had an eye for Tommy, and readily obliged
Tommy’s request.
Watching their sweet gestures and lingering looks across the table only made
Tommy’s chest ache more. What if Adam is out there with the
stonemason’s son, exchanging intimacies like this, or worse? He pushed
his food around on the terra cotta plate and found his eyes always wandering to
the gate, hoping irrationally to see Adam ride through.
He was staring off, almost thinking he heard distant hoof beats, when he
realized Misa and Shiro were whispering to one another. She nodded and they
both stood. “Shiro must return to the stable, Thomas. Would you help me
carry the dishes to the kitchen?”
Tommy agreed, curious as to their secrets but too distracted to pry. When Shiro
had gone Tommy absently started collecting plates and followed Misa with an
armful back to the kitchen. They were finished quickly and when Tommy set the
last pile down next to the washtub, Misa took him by the hand. “Tommy,
what is wrong? Shiro said you looked upset all morning, and you barely touched
your food. Come, let us walk in the garden and you can tell me.”
Tommy tried to protest but Misa’s grasp was firm and she was dragging
him through the corridors of the castle until they emerged into the bright sun
in the garden. It was hot and the leaves of the maples were glowing crimson,
and Tommy could smell the scent of the junipers on the slight breeze. He closed
his eyes and stretched his arms out, hoping the sunlight could warm the cold
feeling in his stomach. When he opened his eyes Misa was in front of him with
her hands on her hips, her expression a mix of sternness and worry.
“Misa — ” he started, but she cut him off.
“I know Master Lambert went off with the stonemason’s son. Is
that why you are distraught?”
“Misa,” he said again, but weakly this time, more pleading than
protest. “They must survey the damage to the bridge. There is no need
for concern.” Hearing himself say it out loud was heartening, and he
chanced to look at her. “Right?”
She smiled warmly and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tommy, I see the way
he looks at you, and the way you look at him. There is no need for
concern.”
Her words gave him the first small bit of comfort he had had since he arrived
at the castle that morning, but his jealousy was nonplussed. “But you
are the one who told me that you often saw him with lovers in the
castle,” Tommy argued, and as he spoke the weight of what he said hit
him and he sat down hard on the stone bench. He had not considered before that
there were likely many, many men Adam had been with before Tommy. Maybe I am
not enough, a shrill voice in his mind spoke surreptitiously. I am
inexperienced and unsure of myself. Maybe he wants more than that.
“Tommy, that was before. I have seen him with no one but you since then,
I swear it. He spends all his time with you now. He races eagerly to the gate
each morning to see you.”
Tommy tried to hold on to her words, but they were muffled by the memory,
replaying itself one more time in his mind, of Adam with the
stonemason’s son. He could hear again every moan, every breath, every
slap of slick skin against skin. Adam with another man. Adam fucking another
man.
Like he has never done with me.
"There is nothing to worry about, I know," Tommy said plaintively. But he did
not know, he could only hope, and hope was not enough to stop the sick feeling
from bubbling in his stomach. "I will be fine, Misa-chan."
She stood and leaned to kiss him briefly on the top of the head. It was almost
sisterly, and he had to smile at how comforting it was compared to the
awkwardness of their relationship just a few months ago. "Do not stay here
sulking too long, Tommy, or I'll be forced to tell Master Lambert that you were
lax in his absence," she teased. "And do not worry so much. You must be blind
if you cannot see how much he cares for you."
Misa was already walking back toward the door to the castle when he called to
her. She stopped and he came to her side. "How do you know, Misa?" he asked
sincerely.
The smile that stretched her lips was melancholic almost, and her tone was
serious. "Master Lambert has always been honorable and considerate, but he was
not happy. In the time I have served the daimyo I rarely saw him smile, and
almost never heard him laugh. But with you he does. Every day." With that she
turned and hurried away, her blond hair catching the sunlight.
He sighed and stared back out at the garden’s liquid flow of stones and
sand. He ran through in his mind the questions he still had, the doubts, and
wondered if he would have the courage to talk to Adam about them. Adam had
encouraged him many times to ask questions, to feel no timidity or
embarrassment. It is not the asking I fear; it is the answer.
Tommy went back to the stable and by late in the day Adam still had not
returned. The other stable hands had already gone to the servants’
quarters, and after a while Tommy told Shiro to go as well. "I shall wait for
Master Lambert," Tommy said. "Go enjoy your dinner, and spend some time with
Misa."
Shiro gave a little bow and collected his things to leave. "Thank you, Thomas."
Tommy wandered aimlessly around the stable, seeking small chores to keep his
hands and mind busy. But every minute that passed made him worry more, and
guess torturously at what could be keeping Adam so long. Dusk was already
dimming the sky when Tommy finally heard the cadence of hoof beats approaching,
and he hurried toward the gate to see Adam arrive.
"Thomas, you are still here? I thought everyone would have left long ago."
"I am the only one left, sensei. I thought I should wait for you," Tommy said
quietly and took the reins from Adam. "How is the bridge? Will the repairs be
difficult?"
"Not at all," Adam answered as he followed Tommy to the stable. "Kaito, the
stonemason's son, believes they can have it repaired before the month is out."
"That is good to hear," Tommy said, hoping Adam did not notice him flinch at
the sound of Kaito's name. Tommy tied up the horse and started when he felt
Adam's hand on his shoulder.
"I am sorry that I was called away, Tommy."
Tommy did not turn, and tried to steady his voice in response. "I understand.
This was an important duty to attend to."
"I feared I would not see you today," Adam continued, tugging a little on
Tommy's shoulder to make him turn and face him. "I am glad you waited for me."
Tommy blushed and would not meet Adam's eyes. "You are?"
"Of course I am," Adam replied, cocking his head slightly. "Tommy, is something
wrong?"
Tommy felt panic creeping up his back. He wanted to get away suddenly, but Adam
was watching him intently and he could not help himself. "I thought perhaps you
would not miss me today, since you had other companionship." Once the words
were out the panic took hold firmly in his chest and he could feel his face
getting hotter. Why did I say that? I should leave this be.
"Tommy, you are my apprentice. There is no companionship I would rather have
than yours."
"Not even Kaito?" The name felt like poison in his mouth and Tommy spat it out.
"Tommy, what is wrong?" Adam took him by the chin and tried to force Tommy to
meet his eyes, but Tommy wrenched himself away. It took every ounce of strength
he had to not run.
"I know you have been with him before."
"Oh," Adam said; his voice had fallen quiet and resigned. "That was…
before... Before you and I were together, Tommy. I had forgotten that you
knew."
"I saw you with him, when he came here to help us fix the wall. You fucked him.
Were you with him like that today?" Tommy could not stop himself from saying
it, but as soon as he did his face burned hot and he was ashamed of how
accusatory he sounded. He was terrified too; his mind chimed in with a litany
of doubt. He is going to say yes, you know. He was with that man instead of
you.
Adam did not say yes. Instead he pulled Tommy tightly into his arms and held
him until Tommy stopped trying to struggle free. When he gave in and pressed
his tear-streaked face into Adam's shoulder, Adam ran a hand through Tommy's
hair and spoke quietly. "No, Tommy, no. There is no one I would ever let come
between us. I promise you."
Tommy stood there for a long while, catching his breath and wiping at his eyes.
After a few moments the reality of what he had said began to sink in. “I
am so sorry, Adam,” he pleaded. “I should not have said such
things, it was terribly disrespectful of me.” He tried to drop to his
knees, to beg Adam to forgive his treacherous tongue. But Adam held him up
firmly by the shoulders and would not let him go.
“Tommy, I am not angry. I should apologize for leaving you to be so
upset. If I had any idea that these thoughts had been on your
mind…”
Tommy relaxed and locked his knees to stand on his own again. “We spied
on you,” he confessed. “Misa and I. She said she often saw you
with other men.”
“Oh.” Adam blushed deeply, and it occurred to Tommy that he had
never seen Adam embarrassed before. “I will not say it is untrue. But
they were… I never cared for any of them the way I care for you.”
And yet. Tommy tried to pull away again. His voice thinned to a whisper.
“And yet you would fuck them and not me.”
“Tommy,” Adam said, loud and tugging on Tommy’s arm.
“Tommy, listen to me. It is not because I care for you any less.”
“What then? Do you not want that with me?”
“Tommy, please, no. It is not for lack of want, I promise you.”
“Then why?”
“There are… many reasons. Because I hate the thought that it
would hurt you. Because I worry you would only say yes to please me. And
because I… I am not ready.”
Tommy wanted to argue the first two points, but the final one confused him.
“You are not ready? I do not understand.”
“There is something I need to do first. Something I have been putting
off for a long, long time. I would like it if you would come with me.”
Tommy looked at him. “What is it?”
“The day after I learned of Master Nakata’s death, I left for the
Western lands and did not return for a year. I never visited his tomb. For a
long time I ran, and made excuses, but the truth is that I could not bring
myself to let go.” Adam reached up to brush his thumb over
Tommy’s cheek. “I think the time has finally come to pay my
respects and move on. Will you come with me?”
The lines of Adam’s face were soft and his eyes were glassy and bright
as they caught the lantern’s light. For the first time Tommy felt like
Adam needed him. “Of course I will go with you.”
Tommy pressed himself hard into Adam’s chest, and sighed with relief as
Adam’s arms came up around him. After the turbulence of the day, the
ground was finally steadying under him.
As Tommy rode home later, the emotion of the day caught up with him, laying
fatigue heavy on his shoulders. But the weariness did not faze him. He thought
only of Adam, and no amount of exhaustion could weigh him down.

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Chapter 10
For three years, Adam had known he must one day make this trip. For a year
after Master Nakata died, Adam ran from it and from everything that made him
even think of his sensei. He lost himself in the transient life of a soldier at
war, and time to reflect on his loss was a luxury he could rarely afford.
When he returned from the Western lands there were enough distractions —
he had not seen his family in a year, and now that he was a full-fledged
samurai, one honored by the Shogun himself, his father insisted that he take
more of a role in the administrative affairs of the prefecture. So he surveyed
tracts of land, mediated disputes, served as an envoy to other daimyo —
whatever his father asked, so long as it kept him busy.
The longer he put off the journey to Master Nakata’s grave, the more
significant the act became in his mind. What would have been a few days’
ride to honor the dead took on a sense of finality he was not ready for.
Occasionally, Adam’s father would travel to see Lord Takeda, the daimyo
Master Nakata had served, about administrative issues concerning trade or
travel between the prefectures. Each time, he would ask Adam to accompany him.
“We could visit Master Nakata’s tomb on the journey,” his
father would gently suggest. Adam always refused, and eventually his father
ceased asking.
When his father first told Adam he would take an apprentice, Lord Lambert
brought it up again. “Perhaps, Adam, it is time to make the journey. It
might be easier for you to look ahead if you are able to put the past to
rest.”
Again, Adam had refused, but his father’s words had come back to haunt
him many times. It was when Tommy nearly quit his apprenticeship that Adam
decided, finally, he would go. But even so, as the days and weeks progressed,
it became easier and easier to put off until tomorrow. Once he did this there
would be nothing left to let go of, nothing to hide behind.
Today, however, it became clear, as he travelled with Kaito, he could delay no
longer. They had just finished their examination of the bridge when Kaito laid
a hand on his arm. Adam looked up at him, and knew well the look in his eyes.
“Adam,” Kaito said, stepping closer, “we need not rush. We
could tarry here a while.”
Adam’s reaction was visceral, and stronger than he would have expected.
“No!” he said, too loudly, and then again quieter. “No.
Kaito, I am sorry. I… I cannot.”
Kaito frowned at him, obviously hurt at the rejection. “I meant no
insult.”
“I know, I am sorry,” Adam apologized again; he did not mean to
offend. “But Thomas and I… I would not wish to find that he had
been with another.”
“I see,” Kaito said. He turned away and mounted his horse.
“We should get moving then.”
They rode home in silence, and Adam found his thoughts straying to Tommy. He
will have gone home by the time I return to the castle tonight. Tomorrow I will
ask him to go with me.
They returned first to Kaito’s father’s workshop in the village
to strategize the repairs to the bridge. The sky was showing the first hints of
dusk by the time Adam left, and as he readied his horse, Kaito followed him to
the yard and called to him. “I am sorry, Adam, about earlier. I did not
mean to be so dour. I knew one day your responsibilities as a samurai would
bring an end to this.”
Adam pulled him into an embrace. “Thank you.”
Kaito squeezed him back briefly and then withdrew. “I hope this means
you will allow yourself to be happy, Adam.”
Adam let out a wry laugh; Kaito was a good friend. “I hope so
too.”
When Adam arrived at the castle, the pleasure of finding Tommy waiting for him
was quickly dampened when he realized his apprentice was distraught. It
confirmed his decision to make the trip to Master Nakata’s grave, and he
asked Tommy right then to accompany him. When Tommy said yes, Adam let out a
breath that he felt he had been holding for three long years, and he pulled
Tommy into his arms. It is time to let go of the past.
Two days later they departed, heading east from the castle at midmorning. They
rode abreast for much of the journey, and to pass the time Adam told stories of
his early days as an apprentice. “You have it easy, Tommy. Master Nakata
had me out for hours every day to train me. Now that there are no wars to
fight, I do not have to work you so hard.”
By twilight Adam’s stories had grown more nostalgic: the day Master
Nakata presented him with his first real katana; the feast held in his honor by
Lord Takeda for his bravery; the first true battle Adam ever fought, and how
Master Nakata had held him afterward and quieted his fears. They were memories
that sat untouched for a long time. Adam had been afraid of the pain they would
cause, but he was finding that the recollections brought more nostalgia than
sadness, and having Tommy by his side was calming, reassuring.
They camped that night in the forest, and Tommy was quiet but pressed himself,
warm and comforting, against Adam’s side as they sat by the small fire.
The farther they travelled, the closer Adam came to what he had been avoiding
so long; now that he was heading toward it, it was becoming real, inescapable,
and he was trying not to feel trapped by it. Tommy, for his part, seemed to
sense Adam's growing reticence. After they ate, Tommy spread their blankets out
together and motioned Adam to lie down. “It has been a long day,”
Tommy said softly, helping Adam remove his boots as he sat on the ground.
“We could just sleep, if you would prefer.”

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They awoke to a cool morning and a light fog over the valley. Adam rode ahead,
picking out their path. By the time the sun had burned the mist away, Adam
could see the stretch of Master Nakata’s estate in the distance. Not for
three long years have I come back to this place. So little has changed, yet
nothing is the same.
Master Nakata’s younger brother tended the property, and when they
arrived, he came out to greet them. “I am glad you have come, Master
Lambert. I have been waiting.”
When Adam introduced Tommy, Master Nakata’s brother gave the boy a long,
appraising look before smiling at Adam and offering them tea. They sat in the
main hall of the house and Adam looked out over the meadow that stretched out
wide, remembering all the hours spent there with his sensei. He did not know
how much time passed, but the sun was blazing bright before he finally turned
to Master Nakata’s brother. “Will you show us the way?”
They walked out from the rear of the house and down a cobbled stone walkway
that lead to a dirt path up the hillside. “The shrine is just at the
crest of the hill,” Master Nakata’s brother said simply before
turning back to the house. Adam started forward, listening for the reassuring
sound of Tommy’s footsteps behind him. He tried to slow his pace, but in
no time the tomb came into sight, a neat structure of stone with a steel plaque
mounted to its façade bearing the name of the samurai buried there and the
years of his birth and death.
Adam felt himself pulled toward it, and he dropped to his knees in front of the
pile of rocks, running his fingers lightly over the metal plate.
“Sensei…” The word drifted from his lips. He stayed there
a long time, and only when he realized his legs were sore from kneeling on the
hard ground did he finally stand, eyes still fixed to the tomb.
“Adam,” he heard softly behind him. He had nearly forgotten Tommy
was there, waiting quietly all this time.
“Master Nakata was a great man, Tommy. I wish you could have known
him.”
“He trained you to be a great samurai, and a great teacher, and for that
I will be forever grateful to him.”
Adam smiled to himself. “As will I. I only regret that I could not have
been there with him at the end, fighting beside him. I wanted to go with him,
but I was no longer his apprentice by then. I had my own responsibility to
serve my daimyo.”
“Still, you must be proud of him,” Tommy offered. “It is
the greatest desire of a samurai to die honorably in battle, in the service of
his lord.”
“I was proud, and I was devastated. The day after I learned of his
death, I went to the Shogun and begged to be sent into battle. Part of me hoped
to meet the same fate as my sensei. For a year I fought in the Western lands,
and I did not return until the pain had started to fade. I never wanted to hurt
that badly again, so I swore I would never care for anyone so deeply. I doubted
I even could.”
Adam turned to look at Tommy, who stood watching him closely. “You have
made me see I was wrong,” Adam continued. “With you, I am not
afraid. Fear is not the way of the samurai.”
Tommy stepped forward and put his hand gently on Adam’s arm.
“Often what is good for the apprentice is also good for the
master.”
Adam nodded and pulled Tommy into his arms. “It is time to go.”
After the midday meal, they took their leave. As Tommy saddled their horses for
the ride, Master Nakata’s brother pulled Adam aside. “I know you
miss him greatly, but I am glad you were finally able to come. He would be very
proud of you. You have become a great samurai, and a great sensei.” They
looked to where Tommy stood waiting by the gate. “He looks at you the
way you looked at my brother, you know.” With that, he embraced Adam
briefly and said farewell.
Adam led them north up into the foothills of the mountains before heading west
toward home. They rode quietly; the day had been too heavy for idle talk. Their
path began to ascend, and the creek they had been riding beside swelled into a
rushing river in the ravine below. “There is a Buddhist shrine up in the
cliffs,” Adam said as the sky began to grow dim. “It was a
favorite place of mine when I was young. We can camp there tonight. It looks as
though we may see a little rain.”
By sunset they reached the shrine, perched at the edge of a cropping of trees a
short distance from the cliff’s edge, and they paused to take in the
ruby red line of the horizon stretched out over the hills and forests and rocks
and water. “It is beautiful here,” Tommy said.
“This was my sanctuary,” Adam told him, looking down to the river
below. “I lived with Master Nakata for nearly four years. When I wanted
to be alone, I came here. Decades ago monks built this place as a refuge for
travelers on the road, but few people ever come this way now. There is a hearth
inside. We can light a fire and enjoy our supper.”
“Let me,” Tommy said, taking the reins of both their horses.
“Rest. Enjoy the view. I will attend to our things.”
Adam wanted to protest, but it would do them both some measure of good, for
Adam to have a few moments alone, and for Tommy to help how he could. He is
always willing. I remember being that eager once.
There was a large rock at the edge of the cliff where Adam used to sit while he
meditated; it was the same as it had been, though perhaps a little more moss
grew at its base. He climbed up and surveyed the vista, picking out Lord
Takeda’s castle in the distance. Everything looked exactly as it had the
last time he sat here.
But as he looked closer, he noticed a pile of rocks that had slid down the
cliff wall and shifted the bank of the river a little. Further down the path a
large evergreen had fallen. It had been lying there for quite some time, its
trunk already splitting and weeds sprouting from its remains. Even the earth
follows it course and weathers its changes.
Adam turned back to the shrine to see smoke already trickling from its chimney.
The breeze picked up and a few raindrops began to splatter his skin. The air
had grown cooler as the sun dipped below the horizon, and it was enough to
usher in a mild storm. Adam stood quickly and headed inside.
The shrine itself was a sturdy wooden building. The outer walls were carved
with images and sayings of Buddha. The terra cotta roof was pointed and left a
small, shielded opening for smoke from the hearth to escape. Inside sat a large
cast iron statute of Buddha, and the far wall held several shelves of candles.
A small bronze chest by the entrance awaited donations from travelers.
When Adam pulled open the creaking wooden door, he found Tommy on his knees,
arranging their blankets on the floor. The rice balls and dried fish Master
Nakata’s brother had given them were set out. The fire had already
warmed the room, and Tommy had even lit a few candles along the wall. Dark was
nigh, but the flames washed the walls with warm, burnt-orange light. They ate
quietly, and Adam began to feel some sense of peacefulness budding within him.
He relished the thought of spending the night here, in this place where he had
always come to find solace, with Tommy tucked against him.
After they ate Tommy stood and packed away their provisions. The monks kept a
stoneware pitcher and bowl as a washbasin for travelers, and when he was
finished Tommy brought these along with a soft cloth. He set the bowl on the
floor next to Adam and looked up with such concern. “Give me your
hands,” he said softly, and as Adam held his out, Tommy took them and
guided them over the bowl. Tommy lifted the pitcher and poured water over
Adam’s hands, then wiped them dry. When he was finished he washed his
own hands and then returned the vessels to their stand. He came back carrying a
small ceramic jar and knelt down beside Adam with it.
“The monks must have been here recently,” Tommy said, taking
Adam’s right hand again and lifting the container to pour a small pool
of oil into Adam’s palm. “They left anointing oil at the altar. I
thought this might soothe you.”
Adam sat quietly, fascinated as Tommy took his hand and began to smear the oil
with his thumbs. Their hands were rough from labor, but the oil smoothed that
coarseness to the feel of silk. Tommy massaged Adam’s hand gently,
kneading the thick flesh at the base of his palm, running long lines up the
thin bones of his fingers. The oil began to warm with the friction of their
skin and Adam was surprised at how much tension he could feel melting away
through this simple act. After Tommy finished he took Adam’s left hand
and repeated the treatment, easing Adam’s worries out through firm
strokes of his fingers. Adam could not take his eyes from Tommy’s face
as he worked. The boy’s lips were parted and glistening, and his brow
was tight with concentration. The sash on his tunic had loosened and the pale,
smooth skin of his chest glowed in the firelight.
Tommy was still running his hands over Adam’s when Adam reached up and
brushed his fingertips along Tommy’s cheek. Tommy looked up with wide
eyes. “Tell me what else I can do for you, sensei.”
Adam’s fingers had left a shiny smudge of oil on Tommy’s cheek,
and it caught the firelight. He brought his hand up to leave a matching streak
on Tommy’s other cheek, and then leaned down to kiss him.
He could feel the eagerness in Tommy’s kiss, the way he pushed up into
it, the quickness with which he parted his lips. Just as quickly Tommy pulled
back, blushing. “Adam,” he said tentatively, “we need not
do this. Maybe you need more time…”
Adam lifted Tommy’s chin to force their eyes to meet. “I have
already taken too much time.”
He kissed Tommy again, deep and slow and insistent. When he pulled back this
time the flush on Tommy’s skin was evident even in the warm glow of the
firelight. He tugged at the sash of Tommy’s tunic, sliding his hands up
inside to push off the garment and drag his hands over Tommy’s skin.
Tommy’s chest rose and fell in a rapid pulse, his breath shallow with
anticipation. His lips were swollen, his eyes shining and his muscles tense. He
was waiting. He has been waiting. Stop making him wait.
Adam eased Tommy back onto the blankets, marveling at how readily Tommy moved
under his hands, how there was trepidation in his eyes but he did not tremble.
He simply sighed as Adam ran his oil-softened hands over the ridges of
Tommy’s ribs, down the smooth, taut muscles of his stomach. When Adam
reached the waist of Tommy’s trousers, he untied the belt and shoved
them off.
The sight of Tommy stretched out, pale skin painted the color of summer sunset
by the flickering fire, sent a pang of desire through Adam. He tossed aside his
own garments and lay alongside Tommy, the heat of Tommy’s body nearly
crackling against his skin. Tommy turned on his side to face Adam and drew his
body up close, sliding his arm around Adam’s waist, burying his head in
Adam’s neck, nudging his hard cock into the groove of Adam’s hip.
Adam slid his hand down Tommy’s back, cupping his ass and tugging him
closer, savoring Tommy’s groan at the increased pressure. Tommy started
thrusting his hips forward, seeking friction, gripping Adam tighter and
breathing hot against Adam’s throat. Adam shifted his hand, drifting his
fingers over the crack of Tommy’s ass, feeling Tommy shudder at the
sensation. He pushed further, and when he grazed the hot soft skin of
Tommy’s hole, Tommy bucked forward roughly and let out a sharp moan.
Adam pulled his hands away and sat up long enough to grab the container of oil
that still sat on the ground nearby. When he turned back Tommy was watching him
with dark eyes, and when he saw the jar in Adam’s hand he caught his
lower lip in his teeth. He looked on hungrily as Adam poured the slick oil on
his fingers, and he spread his legs eagerly for what was coming next.
Opening Tommy up, touching him where he was so smooth and delicate, was always
an exercise in restraint. The first time, they had been in Adam’s room,
stretched out and naked much like this while a thunderstorm wreaked havoc
against the hillside. Tommy had been nervous and breathless, so Adam took his
time, urging Tommy to relax, running his hand through Tommy’s hair.
“Let go,” he instructed, over and over in gentle tones,
“let go for me.” And all the while Adam could not stop thinking
about how tight and hot and silky Tommy felt inside, how badly he wanted to
feel that heat encasing his cock. But it was far, far too soon.
Since then, Tommy had learned to take Adam’s fingers easily, to feel
pleasure from it, to let himself go. The first time Adam made him come just
from that, he had to fight the brutal desire to take Tommy right there, to hold
him down and push inside him. But Adam held himself back. Even after Tommy
asked for it, after he swore he wanted it, the hard cold rock in Adam chest
— fear, he knew it was fear — stopped him, held him back from
this one final intimacy they had yet to share.
Now here they were, two of Adam’s fingers sliding, rubbing, thrusting
into Tommy, and Tommy groaning and driving himself down onto Adam’s hand
like it was not enough. Tommy’s cock was hard and leaking against his
stomach and his hands clenched tight, one on Adam’s arm and the other in
the blankets underneath him. The fire snapped and hissed, and Adam could hear
the rain slapping down on the roof above. Over all of it, his heartbeat was
pounding in his ears. He leaned in to kiss Tommy’s slack mouth, and it
took a moment for Tommy to respond but when he did he slid his hand up into
Adam’s hair.
“Adam,” he said, breathing heavy, holding on tight, hips still
flexing, fingers and thighs twitching against Adam’s skin. “Adam,
Adam…”
“Tommy,” Adam said softly. It is time. “Tommy, I want to
make love to you.”
Tommy’s mouth was on his instantly, kissing hard and rough.
“Please,” he said, almost a whisper. “Adam,
please.”
“I do not want to hurt you. You must stop me if I do.” But
already Adam was withdrawing his fingers, picking up the oil jar and pouring a
generous amount into his palm. He was hard, throbbing, and his nerves
practically screamed at the contact as he slicked the cool oil over the hot
skin of his cock. Tommy watched every movement, his skin flushed pink and his
whole body taut. Adam moved between his thighs, drizzling more oil over
Tommy’s hole, then leaned forward to brush Tommy’s hair aside and
lay one more kiss on his lips. “Do not let me hurt you,” he said
one last time, and then Tommy cried out as Adam pushed inside him.
Adam waited, motionless, calming them both by humming soft reassurances in
Tommy’s ear and stroking a hand gently over his hip.
“Relax,” he repeated in between his own rapid breaths, trying to
still his body from pushing further, faster, wanting to bury himself inside
Tommy, needing to, over and over. After a minute, Adam brushed a thumb over
Tommy’s cheek. “Should I stop?”
“No,” Tommy said, not even hesitating though his breath was
ragged and his voice was strained. “Just… gently.”
Adam kissed him again. “Anything for you. Anything.”
Adam moved slowly, shifting, pushing, struggling, soothing, until he was buried
deep and Tommy’s breathing was less frantic, less pained. It almost
would have been enough, just lying here, Tommy hot and tight around him, the
race of Tommy’s heartbeat echoing through his body. But he needed Tommy
to enjoy this, to have no room for regrets.
Adam rocked his hips slightly, the friction a little smoother now, the furrow
of Tommy’s brow lessened. He did it again, and this time Tommy gasped
and snapped his hips and looked up at Adam with wide eyes.
“There,” Adam whispered, “that is how it should
feel.”
He was gentle, as gentle as he could manage while watching Tommy slowly fall
apart under him. When he slid a hand between them to wrap it around Tommy's
stiff flesh, Tommy cried out, gripping at Adam’s shoulders and rocking
up into the touch.
“You are so good for me, Tommy,” Adam said roughly, trying hard
to slow his hips as Tommy writhed underneath him. Why did I fight this so long?
Tommy moaned as he wrapped his arms around Adam’s back, and Adam could
feel him grow still and tense as he dug in his fingers and pressed his head
back against the blanket. Adam’s hand was still smooth with oil and he
stroked Tommy’s cock faster, feeling Tommy’s body growing hotter
and tighter around his cock. When he came his hips snapped forward, burying
Adam deep inside him. His orgasm tore a cry from his throat and pushed his
fingers sharply into Adam’s back. He was shaking and his heart was
pounding so hard in his chest Adam could feel it. Adam stroked him through the
shock of it, pressing his mouth to Tommy’s ear. “I have you, my
love.”
My love. The words had simply fallen from his lips, with no thought to stop
them. Adam wrapped his arms under Tommy’s back and pulled him up,
cradling Tommy tightly to his chest and burying his face in Tommy’s
hair. He held Tommy tightly and thrust roughly, erratically, until his own
orgasm wracked his body, all the while whispering, “my love, my
love.”
Tommy clung to him until Adam slowly withdrew. He took the cloth from the
washstand and gently cleaned Tommy’s body, dropping kisses along his
stomach as he wiped away the come and oil and sweat. When he was finished he
pulled Tommy close, wrapping the blanket around them both.
Tommy turned to look up at Adam, his eyes shining darkly in flickering light.
“You said ‘my love.’” His voice was soft and
questioning.
Adam cupped Tommy’s face in his hand “I have not known love all
this time since I lost my sensei. I became so accustomed to thinking of love in
the past that I was too blind to see it standing right in front of me. I am
sorry it took me so long to see how much I need you.”
They kissed gently, then Tommy turned on his side, his back pressed to
Adam’s chest. Adam snaked his arms around Tommy and settled in on the
blanket behind him. After a moment, Tommy spoke. “My father once told me
that he knew he should marry my mother because she made him feel as though all
would be right with the world. If that is love, then that is what I feel when I
am with you.”
Adam’s heart tripped its pace and he curled his body closer around
Tommy’s. “Goodnight, my love.”
Tommy was silent, but he slid his hand up over Adam’s and laced their
fingers together.

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Chapter 11
Tommy had done his best to stay in the background while Adam visited his
sensei’s grave. He listened when Adam talked, followed where Adam led,
and fought the urge to go to him and wrap his arms around him. I will be here
when he needs me.
Now that they were settled warmly by the smoldering fire, Tommy had a harder
time staying away; he wanted to be close, to offer some kind of comfort. Adam
had spent much of the day wringing his hands, or clenching them into fists, so
Tommy brought the washbowl to him and gently washed his hands. When he was
finished it struck him to fetch the oil he had seen on the altar, and try to
push some of the tension out with his own fingers.
Tommy had meant the act to be chaste, to give solace; instead he found himself
growing aroused as he ran his slick hands over Adam’s, imagining those
fingers wrapped around his cock, or pressed inside him. He caught himself
rocking forward as he rubbed Adam’s skin, seeking the sensation with his
whole body. He meant to pull away once he finished, to give Adam space, but
instead Adam pulled him into a kiss and all he could think was how he wanted
more.
At last, Adam gave it to him.

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Tommy woke early in the morning, the dawning sun only barely brightening the
shrine. The air was heavy with dampness, a chilly legacy from the previous
night’s rain. But the heat of Adam’s body was steady against his
back, and the weight of Adam’s arm was heavy on his hip. He was stiff,
so he tried to stretch out without disturbing Adam’s sleep. As he pushed
his muscles taut he felt the strain in his thighs, the soreness between them.
The memory of last night flushed his skin hot — the image of Adam over
him, the feel of Adam inside him, the words they spoke after. He suddenly felt
exposed, acutely aware of his nakedness. He leaned up on one elbow and reached
forward toward his tunic lying on the floor a few feet away. He moved slowly
but as he did he felt Adam stir, felt him slide his hand up Tommy’s
chest and pull him back down.
“Good morning,” Adam rumbled gently against his ear. Adam shifted
forward, pressing his chest against the cold flat plane of Tommy’s back.
“You are cold…” he began, and the words faded out as he
pressed his mouth against the tendons in Tommy’s neck, planting warm
kisses against his skin. Despite the anxiety that still sat in his gut Tommy
could not help but turn and stretch out his throat in further invitation.
“How do you feel?” Adam asked, sliding his hand between their
bodies. When his fingers skimmed the tender skin around Tommy’s hole,
Tommy could not help but whimper. He was sore, yes, but wet too, still slick
from the night before, and it would be so easy for Adam to slide back inside
him.
“Adam,” he whined, half desperation and half discomfort, his body
twitching with the urge to pull away yet wanting too to melt back into
Adam’s touch.
It was as if Adam knew. “Shhh,” he whispered against
Tommy’s neck, and shifted his hand instead to wrap around Tommy’s
hard cock. Tommy found release quickly with Adam’s body bare against his
own, murmuring endearments, calling Tommy “my beautiful boy,”
catching his earlobe in his teeth.
After, Adam sent him to wash in the nearby stream. Tommy did so quickly, the
water stinging cold on his skin. When he returned to the shrine Adam had
started a small fire and handed Tommy a hot cup of tea and a rice ball. He took
both gratefully, and by the time he finished the stiffness was fading from his
limbs.
As they rode for home Adam spoke at length about his youth and his time with
his sensei when he lived in this prefecture. Tommy was quiet, not wanting to
give voice to his anxieties; there was a palpable shift between them, it was
clear, and though it was what Tommy had wanted, had begged for, he felt
vulnerable now, exposed in a way he had not foreseen. But as the sun rose in
the sky, as Tommy let his mind carry on the sound of Adam’s voice, on
the rustle of the wind and the music of the birds, he began to relax.
When they reached the crossroads it was near dusk, and Tommy had expected that
Adam would send him along home from here. His heart sank at the thought but it
was only logical, there was no sense in Tommy returning to the castle with Adam
only to ride home late in the dark. When Adam drew up his horse Tommy came to a
stop beside him, his fingers unnaturally tight on the reins.
“Tommy,” Adam said, turning to him, and Tommy’s heart
caught at the tender look on Adam’s face, the way the fading light
turned his eyes a stormy blue. “If you would prefer to return to your
farm this evening, then it would be best for us to part ways here. But I would
like it if you would come back with me and stay the night.”
He did not voice his acceptance, but merely spurred his horse in the direction
of the castle.
Dinner at the castle was nothing like the simple meals of rice and fish Tommy
was accustomed to at home. Tonight there was pheasant, roasted turnips, and
sweet bean cakes for dessert. Adam poured him sake, and though he drank only a
little its warmth in his veins soothed his tense body. After the meal, a
servant showed Tommy to the bath; it felt almost sinful, soaking so long in the
steaming water. When he finally dragged himself from the tub, clean garments
awaited him. He dressed and slipped quietly through the halls to Adam’s
chamber.
“Those garments were mine when I was young,” Adam said as Tommy
slid the door closed behind him. The room was dark save an oil lantern, which
Adam extinguished as they crawled into bed.
“This is far more luxury than I am used to on the farm,” Tommy
said as he pulled the luxurious blankets around them both.
“You could stay here all the time,” Adam replied as he pulled
Tommy close.
Tommy looked at him with surprise. “I could?”
“It is more than a day’s journey to Master Nakata’s
estate. He moved here to train me at first, and when I turned fourteen I
returned there to live with him until I came of age. Your farm is far closer,
but if your family would agree, you could come to stay here.”
Tommy buried his face against Adam’s chest to hide how much the idea
thrilled him, to awake in the morning not to the chilly stiffness of his bed in
the farmhouse but to this, feathered mattresses and the reassuring warmth of
Adam beside him. But it would mean leaving his home, his family. The thought
sent a shiver down his spine and he pulled away. “What of my parents?
What of my responsibilities at the farm?”
Adam brushed his fingers lightly over Tommy’s cheek. “Do not
fret; it is a choice you need not make for quite some time. I am merely being
selfish by wanting you here with me.”
“You would want me to live here with you?” Tommy asked, still
seeking reassurance even with Adam’s arms around him.
“I meant every word I said last night, Tommy. I need you.” Adam
leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over Tommy’s. “I love
you.”
They shared tender, slow kisses until the exhaustion of their journey finally
weighed them too far down. Tommy’s dreams were hazy, laced with vivid
colors and distant laughter. When he woke he felt strange; nothing had changed,
but he seemed to notice things that had escaped him before: the cadence of the
sparrows’ songs, the way the silk curtains glowed in the sunlight, the
softness of Adam’s face in sleep that made him look younger than his
years. Tommy thought back to the day he nearly abandoned his apprenticeship,
and how he had come to realize he must give Adam everything. He saw now he had
barely begun to understand the depth of that commitment.

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Tommy’s birthday fell at the beginning of summer, just as the days began
to take on an edge of heat and the nights were no longer chilly enough to
warrant a fire. A week before he turned thirteen, a man clad in the bright reds
and golds of the Shogun’s emissaries rode through the castle gates.
Tommy had been at the forge, watching Adam sharpen his swords, when Shiro came
running up. “Master Lambert,” Shiro cried, “a messenger
from the Shogun has arrived!”
Adam quickly wiped and sheathed his blade and dashed for the castle, and Tommy,
with no other directive, hurried after him. In the main hall the messenger
stood talking to the daimyo, who looked up when Adam entered. “Son, I am
glad you are here. This is Ryu. He brings word from the Shogun. Come, we must
speak.”
Lord Lambert held a scroll, tied with red and gold silk, and it was this scrap
of parchment which held Tommy’s attention. It had been nearly a full
year since he began his apprenticeship, and never before had the Shogun sent
any kind of missive. There was a palpable tremor of excitement throughout the
castle, but something about the arrival of this messenger seemed ominous to
Tommy. He eyed the Shogun’s rider more thoroughly; he had a pleasant
face and behaved with all proper deference to the daimyo. He did not look like
a harbinger of ill tidings, and yet Tommy could not shake the unease that
settled over him.
Adam sent Tommy to the kitchen, to carry word that a guest would dine with the
daimyo this evening, and the cook should prepare a meal fit for a
representative of the Shogun. Tommy assisted where he could, carrying cast iron
kettles and fetching water from the well, all the while imagining what might be
written on that scroll. He had learned little thus far in the ways of politics,
but he knew enough to fear that the Shogun was going to war again and wanted
his loyal samurai to fight by his side. He knew enough, too, to be certain that
if Adam would go to war, he would leave Tommy behind.
Nearly two hours had passed and Tommy had twisted himself into knots, so much
so that when Adam called for him he nearly dropped the cord of firewood he was
carrying. But Adam was smiling when Tommy ran to him, and that smile was always
a quick and sure way to assuage Tommy’s fears. “I have marvelous
news,” Adam said, and his words, his eyes — his whole face, in
fact — were bright. “Come to the garden and I shall tell
you.”
Tommy wanted to grab Adam’s hand, to beg his sensei to tell him now, but
he had learned restraint well these past few months. Training with Adam was a
constant battle between duty and desire. They had spent more time than was
prudent in the warmth of Adam’s bed during the winter, but once the
spring thaw began Adam rejoined his training with zeal, and they spent most of
their time of late practicing sword skills out in the field. Tommy balled his
hands into fists and followed silently as Adam led them along the castle wall.
“How would you like to accompany me to Edo?” Adam asked once he
had sat Tommy down on the stone bench in the garden. The question was barely
out of Adam’s mouth before Tommy sprang to his feet again.
“Do you mean it?” His eyes were so wide he felt they might roll
out of their sockets, and his heart was racing like a horse at full gallop.
“The Shogun has asked each daimyo to come to Edo for a council in a
fortnight’s time. Because of my experience fighting in the Western
lands, and as I am the daimyo’s son and successor, Lord Tokugawa asked
that I go in my father’s stead. I would like very much if you would come
with me.”
Tommy could barely speak, so he flung himself into Adam’s arms instead.
The following morning Adam arrived at Tommy’s farm and spoke with his
parents. Tommy sat quietly at the table as his father listened to Adam’s
request and his mother served tea. When Adam finished, Tommy’s father
was beaming. “I always knew my son was destined for great things! Tell
me, Master Lambert, will he meet Lord Tokugawa himself?”
Adam chuckled and cast a fond look at Tommy. “I will do everything in my
power to arrange it.”

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On Tommy’s birthday, he spent the first half of the day at home with his
parents. When the afternoon grew late, he took his pack, mounted his horse and
headed to the castle. At the evening meal he was given the seat of honor next
to Lord Lambert, who poured sake for Tommy and told him stories of fighting
alongside the Shogun. After he ate, he spent indulgently long soaking in the
bath, and returned to Adam’s chamber eager to climb under the blankets
with his sensei.
When he slid the door open, he found a small table in the center of the room
with a long, narrow, ornately lacquered box atop it. Adam was sitting by the
window, but he stood when Tommy entered. “What is this?” Tommy
asked, his gaze drawn to the shine of the lacquer and the band of gold inlaid
in the box’s lid.
“A gift,” Adam said, rising. “For your birthday, but for
the journey as well. Go on, open it.”
Tommy traced a finger along the cool, smooth edge of the box, trying to draw
out the sweet sting of anticipation, but he could barely contain his curiosity.
He lifted the lid gingerly, only a few inches, and bent down to peer inside. It
took a moment, in the low light from the candles in the room, for Tommy to
recognize what lay within. When he did, he pulled back with a gasp, letting the
lid snap shut with a sharp clap, and looked up at Adam in surprise.
“These are… mine?” he stuttered. “You think I am
ready?”
Adam laughed and stepped behind Tommy, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“Of course I think you are ready. You are too precious to me to put you
in danger by giving you your swords too early, Tommy. Take them, feel how they
mold to your hand. A samurai’s swords are an extension of himself. You
must know every inch of these blades if they are to conform to your
will.”
Tommy removed the lid of the box and set it aside. The two swords inside were
cushioned in white silk; their blades nearly glowed, as if they took every
flicker of light in the room and magnified it in their flawless, tempered
steel. The hilts were lacquered blue and banded in silver, and when he dared to
wrap his fingers around the smaller wakizashi it was as if it were carved for
his hand alone. “They are beautiful,” he whispered, making no
attempt to keep the awe from his voice.
“They were my first swords as an apprentice,” Adam said from some
far-off place behind him. “I have wanted to give them to you for some
time now, but I thought I should wait. This trip to Edo was the sign I had been
waiting for. No samurai should travel the road to the capital without his
swords. For the last week, after you left the castle in the evenings, I have
gone to the forge to sharpen and polish the blades so they would be ready for
you.”
Tommy laid the dagger against the pristine silk with trembling hands before
turning to Adam. “They were your blades,” he said with reverence.
“Adam, I do not deserve — ”
“Hush,” Adam said sharply, and in an instant he was on his knees
before Tommy, one hand firm on his apprentice’s shoulder, and Tommy lost
his words under the intensity of Adam’s gaze. “You have earned
the privilege of carrying swords. I ought to have had new ones forged for you,
but instead I was selfish and sentimental and wanted you to have mine. Humor
me, and take them. Please?”
Adam’s eyes wavered, for only a moment but Tommy saw it, and he let
himself fall against Adam, let his arms come up around Adam’s neck.
“Nothing would please me more than to carry your swords, sensei,”
he whispered, and then he was crushing his mouth to Adam’s and his hands
were shaking with the need to touch him, to take everything Adam wanted to
give.
Tommy yielded easily as Adam pushed him down on the bed and pulled his robes
open. He was happy, eager for their trip, but relaxed too from his bath and
from the sake he’d drunk at dinner. In no time he was gasping for air
and arching against Adam. “What do you want, my love?” Adam
murmured against his lips, pulling away when Tommy tried to turn the contact
into a kiss.
“Please,” Tommy whined, wrapping his thigh around Adam’s
to try to pull their bodies close, willing Adam to know, the way Adam always
knew, what he wanted. “You,” he panted, tugging Adam down on top
of him. “I want you.”
“It is your birthday,” Adam said, breaking up the words with
kisses pressed against Tommy’s cheek. “I would give you anything
you ask.”
In the morning, Tommy would strap his new swords to his belt and they would
take the road to Edo to meet with the Shogun. What more could I possibly want?
“Make love to me,” Tommy whispered, burying his face against
Adam’s neck.
Adam worked Tommy open slowly, until Tommy was desperate and shaking. “I
love you,” Adam said softly as he pushed inside, and Tommy clung to him,
moaning and clawing at Adam’s back, and forgot everything else.

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In the morning they woke with the sun and headed southeast, following the
Goruku River as it skirted the edge of the mountains until they came to the
Nakasendo Road. “If you ride west on this road for two days, you will
come to Kyoto,” Adam said as they turned east onto the road and
proceeded at a steady clip. The ride through the foothills had been slow going,
as the paths were sometimes steep and often treacherous with fallen rocks and
branches, and the horses seemed grateful for the reprieve on their hooves.
“East, it cuts through the Kiso Mountains and in four days will take us
all the way to Edo.”
Tommy was not sure whether to be impressed or disappointed by the Nakasendo. He
had never seen one the great roads that carried travelers from Edo to Kyoto,
but he had expected something more than this trampled-hard dirt path. Still, it
was wide, enough for two large carts to pass one another, and trailed off far
into the distance until it was hidden by trees. Tommy was left with the
distinct feeling that the road did not end in Edo, but went on forever.
When they came to the first station, however, Tommy was certainly awed. There
were 69 checkpoints along the Nakasendo, built to provide respite to weary
travelers but also to allow the Shogun to monitor travel throughout the
country. This station, Akasaka, lay in a fertile valley and had prospered
rapidly in the twelve years since the Shogun had ordered the establishment of
these posts. Before the buildings even came into sight Tommy could smell the
aroma of grilled fish and vegetables drifting down the road in invitation.
There was a smithy, a tea house, and a few small shops peddling everything from
kimonos to medicines to straw hats to keep the sun from an ill-prepared
traveler’s eyes. “This place is nearly as large as our
village,” Tommy said, trying to take it all in. A number of men sat on
wooden benches outside the inn, drinking sake and playing at dice.
“Would you like to stay here tonight, at the inn?” Adam asked,
and when Tommy finally tore his eyes from the bustle of the station he saw that
Adam was smiling at him. “I thought we might camp while the weather
holds, but this is the first time you have travelled the Nakasendo, and
tomorrow’s ride will be difficult. There is no better way to end the
first day of a long journey than with a soft bed and a hot meal.”
Tommy couldn’t stop the grin that broke across his face.
“Really?”
Adam laughed and drew to a stop. Tommy followed suit and when they had
dismounted Adam gave him the reins of both horses while he unfastened their
packs. “The stable is that last building, just past the shop. I will
acquire a room for the night.”
An hour later, when they both had washed themselves free of the dust of the
road and settled down to a table inside the inn, Adam leaned over and brushed
the tips of his fingers across the back of Tommy’s hand. “The
innkeeper told me there are minstrels passing through who will come to
entertain the guests during dinner.”
No sooner had two steaming bowls of rice topped with grilled fish been set in
front of them than Tommy heard the first strains of music. He was captivated by
the musicians — two playing lutes and one with cymbals and a tambourine
— who sang of great battles and distant lands over the sea. Adam ordered
sake and passed a cup of the warm liquid to Tommy, who sipped at it slowly and
savored the burn down his throat. The scent of herbed tobacco filled the air as
the patrons settled back to listen to the minstrels, and the smoke and the
alcohol left Tommy loose and slack. He tipped toward Adam, resting his shoulder
against his sensei’s, and a moment later Adam slid an arm around
Tommy’s back. It was like a dream, blurred and warm, and perhaps Tommy
did doze off for a short while, for he started a little when he felt
Adam’s lips press to his ear. “Shall we go to bed?”
In their room, under the cool crisp sheets, Adam kissed him until they both
fell asleep.

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The next leg of their journey held the roughest terrain, with the road carved
into the side of the Kisos. Here and there along the trail one side of the pass
would drop away into a craggy ravine, with pebbles kicked up by their
horses’ hooves skittering into the darkness below. At times the road
would narrow and they would ride one in front of the other. They trudged along,
slower even than they needed to, but Tommy felt no impetus for haste, nor did
he sense it from Adam; it was beautiful here in a sparse, primitive way. The
rocks were cold, grey and foreboding; jagged evergreens clawed their way out of
the cracks in the stone, and overhead the sky was pale, almost white, and
streaked with thin icy clouds. As they rode Tommy closed his eyes, trusting his
horse to follow Adam’s, and tried to let the peacefulness of their
surroundings flow into him. The excitement of the prior day had distracted him
from his worries, but here in the quiet, unforgiving passes of the mountain
road, there was little to stop him from growing anxious over what would happen
in Edo. The thin air and heavy mood made it difficult to speak, and the narrow
path even more so; few words passed between them. They came across few
travelers, and from each the greeting was polite and unspoken.
By the time the sun approached the horizon, the next post station was within
reach, but they chose to camp in the woods, just out of sight of the road. This
section of the Nakasendo that hugged the mountains so closely was rarely
plagued by robbers, and those desperate enough to scavenge here would likely
steer clear of a samurai and his apprentice. When they lay down in the nest of
blankets Tommy had set out, he wrapped his arms around Adam and pressed his
face into Adam’s neck. Adam kissed the top of his head and stroked a
hand gently along his back for several minutes, and Tommy could feel the
beginnings of the pull of sleep when Adam spoke, quietly. “So what is it
that has been troubling you all day?”
Tommy shifted, but Adam would not let him pull away. He did not want to
struggle, so he relaxed back against Adam and sighed. “I worry about
what the Shogun wants. I fear you will be called away to war, and I will be
left behind.”
There was a long silence, and then Adam took a deep breath. “I do not
think the Shogun seeks more fighting.”
“But if he does?”
“It would not be my choice to leave you behind, Tommy. You are not old
enough, and you have not had enough training. The generals would not let you
fight.”
Tommy’s hands clenched into fists against Adam’s chest. “I
do not want to fight. But I do not want to be apart from you.”
Adam cupped Tommy’s chin in one hand and pulled back enough to look at
Tommy. His eyes were dark and bore deeply into Tommy. “I would
return,” he said solemnly.
“You cannot — ” Tommy began, because Adam could not
promise that, not in a war, but Adam cut him off with a kiss and held Tommy
firmly until he stopped trying to break away to finish his protest. But even
after Tommy went pliant in his arms, Adam’s kisses stayed rough, and it
took Tommy some time to realize that it was fear — Adam was afraid too
— fueling Adam’s fervor. The knowledge both reassured Tommy and
reignited his own desperation, and he began tugging at Adam’s shoulders,
wanting Adam on top of him, wanting the solace of Adam’s weight holding
him down. When Adam pressed inside him, Tommy was on his knees, clawing at the
ground and whimpering “please, please,” over and over as Adam
thrust into him.
The morning sun was unexpectedly warm and seemed to burn away the chill that
had settled over them. Everything seemed lighter: the sky, the mood, the weight
on Tommy’s mind. There was nothing for it but to trust that Adam was
right, that there would be no war. When he woke, Tommy said a brief prayer to
the fates before he roused Adam and they set out again.
They travelled in good spirits, with Adam telling of his last excursion along
the Nakasendo and Tommy happy to listen, happy that the mood of the day before
seemed to be gone. By tomorrow afternoon they would be in Edo, a city he always
dreamed he might see, and his enthusiasm for the trip returned with each mile
that fell away under the hooves of their horses.
Within a few hours they emerged from the shadow of the mountains. Here the road
was wider and more heavily travelled with each post station they passed. There
were merchants towing their carts of wares, messengers, entertainers and, most
interesting to Tommy, other samurai. “He,” Adam would say as they
came upon an elegantly outfitted warrior, “wears a kimono made by the
famous silk merchant Azuma in Edo. See the vibrant blues, and the elaborate tie
on his sash? No other merchant has those marks. I met him once, and he offered
to make me a robe with those very colors, but I was about to depart to the West
and had no use for such a garment. Perhaps I will visit him while we are in the
city.”
The day was full of these anecdotes, to which Tommy listened both raptly and
contentedly. When he asked an eager question Adam was ready with a patient
answer, and when he slowed his pace to take in the gilt beauty of a shrine or
the laughing chaos of a group of small children playing in the courtyard of a
post station’s marketplace, Adam lingered until Tommy’s curiosity
was satisfied.
They stayed in the post town of Matsuida, which they came to as dusk settled.
The last stretch of road leading to the station was flanked on either side by
rows of great cedar trees, and their spice-warm scent in the air after the
excitement of the day left Tommy drowsy and heavy-limbed. As Adam slid into bed
behind him, pulling him into his arms and tugging the sheet over them both,
Tommy had no time to think of his worries, or to think at all, before sleep
took him.
He woke to one of the inn’s servants bringing in a steaming kettle for
tea. Adam sat at the small table in the room, already dressed for the day, and
looked over as Tommy stirred. “In just a few short hours we will be in
Edo,” he said brightly as he poured hot water into his tea. “The
city is like nothing you have ever seen.”
Indeed, from the moment the gold-tipped turrets of the main tower of Edo Castle
came into view over the horizon, Tommy was enthralled. The city seemed to reach
out to them, drawing them forward, revealing itself over the crests of hills
and through stands of trees until it loomed over them, a physical manifestation
of the Shogun’s influence and power. Closer still, and Tommy could make
out scores of men patrolling the walls and milling about in the courtyards.
“This is the largest castle in all of Japan,” Adam said when the
full splendor of the castle was spread in clear view before them as they
descended the last slope toward the city. Tommy merely nodded, speechless, his
eyes wide at so much unimaginable grandeur.
The city itself unfurled around the castle with long avenues lined with homes,
shops, restaurants, inns, theaters and businesses. Throngs of people bustled in
the streets, some on horses, others carrying bushels of rice or buckets of
water. Ladies dressed in vibrant kimonos of pastel silks with dizzying patterns
of chrysanthemums or cherry blossoms strolled with parasols tipped on their
shoulders to block the afternoon sun. Bureaucrats wearing the red of the Shogun
walked haughtily from shop to shop as ingratiating merchants rushed out to meet
them and bow in deference. This was nothing like the village back home. This
was nothing like Lord Lambert’s castle. Tommy would never have believed
such scope, such splendor, had he not seen it with his own eyes. When they
reached the first gate of the castle, they dismounted; Adam laid a reassuring
hand on Tommy’s shoulder as he presented their invitation to the gate
wardens and they were motioned to enter. “Come, Tommy,” Adam said
as he ushered him through the hulking stone gate, as tall as five men and more
than half as wide. “Let us go meet the Shogun.”
Once they reached the inner citadel of the castle, they were shown to their
quarters. “Is the Shogun providing accommodations for all the daimyo
coming to the council?” Tommy asked the young servant boy who showed
them the way.
“Of course,” the boy responded, sounding amused. “The
castle has more than enough rooms to house the visiting daimyo.”
“How many daimyo will be attending?” Adam asked as he stepped
into the room, looking obviously impressed; it was far more elegantly appointed
than his own chambers at Lord Lambert’s castle.
“More than two hundred,” the boy replied as he turned to leave.
“Including their retinues, there will be nearly a thousand guests here
at the castle for the next several days.” With that he bowed low in
farewell and departed.
“A thousand?” Tommy said in disbelief, staring at the door the
boy had closed as he left.
“Welcome to Edo,” Adam laughed.
They were summoned a short time later to the great hall in the Shogun’s
residence, where Lord Tokugawa would receive his guests during the feast that
had been prepared in their honor. At the front of the room, raised up on a
dais, was a long, rectangular table dressed in red and yellow cloth and
spilling over with candles, goblets and serving dishes plated in gold and
silver and crusted with gems. In the center of it was a man who was certainly
Lord Tokugawa, dressed in a heavy black kimono with a lining of gold that
peeked out from his sleeves and his collar. There was a gravity to him; people
simply drifted into his orbit, and as they drew close they seemed to shrink in
size next to him. Surrounding him were a number of elegantly dressed men whom
Tommy surmised were either his bodyguards or his close advisors. In front of
the Shogun’s table sat a contingent of a dozen minstrels with drums,
flutes, lyres and other instruments, chanting softly to the swaying rhythm they
played. All through the room servants carried trays piled high with meat and
fish, fruits and vegetables, even such delicacies as nuts and cheeses. Tommy
had barely begun his meal, his plate piled high with an intimidating array of
food, when a young man dressed in the distinctive red robes of the
Shogun’s attendants came to them. “Good evening, sirs. The Shogun
requests an audience with you.”
The servant led the way, with Adam following and Tommy meekly bringing up the
rear. There was no one in all of Japan more famous nor more feared than Lord
Ieyasu Tokugawa; Tommy prayed he need only smile and stay quiet, or perhaps
chime in with a simple, “yes, my lord.”
“Adam!” the Shogun bellowed when they were still several feet
away, startling Tommy into nearly colliding with one of the servers.
“Welcome, my friend!”
Adam hurried forward and knelt before the Shogun, bowing briefly before
returning the greeting. “It is good to see you again, my Lord. Peace
suits you well!”
“Peace suits all of Japan, Adam. That is why we are here, to determine
how we can make this peace last long after I am gone. Tell me, how is your
father?”
“Quite well, though less sprightly now than you likely remember
him,” Adam said. “He appreciates you asking for me in his stead
so that he need not weary himself on the road.”
“Both you and your father have fought bravely for me. Seeing either of
you is a treat! And who is this young man who accompanies you?” At that,
the Shogun’s eyes fell on Tommy, and the weight of that gaze sent him
bowing low.
“This is my apprentice, Thomas,” Adam said, and the note of pride
in his voice cut through Tommy’s fear and gave him the courage to lift
his head and meet the Shogun’s eyes. “He has been with me for
nearly a year now. He is a very skilled hunter, and his aptitude for learning,
whether the sword or the scroll, is impressive.”
“Then he is worthy of your teaching,” the Shogun said, smiling
now. “Thomas, how would you like to serve as a page during the
council?”
Tommy had no idea what such a thing would entail, but it did not matter. He
could not tell the Shogun no. “I would be honored, my Lord,” he
managed to say without stammering much. The Shogun and Adam spoke briefly for
another minute, and then Tommy was staggering back to their seats, with
Adam’s hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him steady.
“The Shogun seems to like you,” Adam said, smiling and offering a
cupful of sake when were seated at their table again. Tommy took it and
swallowed a large mouthful, wincing but grateful for the burn.
“What does a page do?” Tommy choked out around the crackle in his
throat.
“I am not certain, but we will find out tomorrow,” Adam said
cheerfully. “Whatever it is, I am sure you will do splendidly!”
Tommy simply nodded, glad for Adam’s confidence in him. He had learned,
under Adam’s tutelage, to curtail his self-doubt. This, however, was the
Shogun. He sipped at his sake again and tried to relax.
Time seemed to accelerate as the evening progressed, with more food and music
and dancing, and by the time the meal was over Tommy began to forget his
concerns, unable to help his captivation with the light and the sounds and the
flavors all spread out before him. More than once he caught himself grinning
widely at Adam. “Shall we go to bed?” Adam asked once they made
it, with only a few wrong turns, back to their room.
“Yes,” Tommy said, breathless as he pressed himself against Adam
and tugged at his clothes. “Take me to bed.”

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Chapter 12
Watching Tommy soak in all that was Edo — the noisy crowds, the
massiveness of the castle, the imposing presence of the Shogun — brought
Adam unexpected delight, manifested in secret smiles that Adam did his best to
keep Tommy from seeing. He did not want Tommy to think he was patronizing him;
he simply remembered the thrill of coming to Edo for the first time, and was
glad to see Tommy experience that same joy.
He did not say so for fear of putting pressure on Tommy, but the Shogun asking
him to act as a page during the council was a significant honor. And though the
offer was a reflection of the Shogun’s appreciation of the fighting Adam
and his father had done at Lord Tokugawa’s side, it brought Adam a great
deal of pride nonetheless. Further, serving as a page would allow Tommy to be
present for the council and watch the political process at work.
The next morning, he and Tommy made their way to the meeting chambers early to
ensure Tommy knew his duties, but the other pages quickly took him under their
wing and hurried him away to help prepare as the daimyo began to arrive, until
Lord Tokugawa entered and the attendees fell into a hush waiting for him to
begin.
“Good morning,” the Shogun bellowed as he took his place at the
head of the room. “I thank you all for coming to Edo. Greetings to those
of you I already call my friends, as well as those whose acquaintance I have
not yet had the pleasure of making. My intention is to see far more of all of
you in the future.” With no further pleasantries, he announced his plan:
sankin kotai, alternate attendance. “Japan is already beginning to
thrive now that we have stopped fighting with one another. To maintain this
peace and encourage this prosperity, I would like you all to spend every other
year in Edo here with me.”
The Shogun paused, and a palpable silence fell over the room. By requiring each
of the nation’s more than two hundred daimyo to spend alternate years in
the capital, he would very effectively weaken their strength in their home
prefectures. It would be nearly impossible to mount any sort of rebellion when
a feudal lord was away so often, and it was clear from the Shogun’s tone
that this was not an invitation but a demand. Daimyo who refused would most
certainly be labeled as resisters and treated — militarily — as
such. Two of the pages pulled aside the large wall hanging that adorned the
wall behind the Shogun to reveal a map of the city. “Our goal in this
council,” Lord Tokugawa continued when it was clear that no one would
protest, “is to apportion each of you property in the city and determine
the logistics of building your residences here.”
As the council progressed, the daimyo seemed to grow more resigned to the idea.
Many of them had spent their entire lives battling one another for small gains
in land and influence. Though capitulating to the power of the Shogun was
antithetical to their principles, none could contend that they were not better
off since the Shogun’s victories had put an end to their armed
squabbles. Adam, to his surprise, found himself called to the Shogun’s
table quite frequently, often spending long stretches with the Shogun’s
closest advisors, discussing his experiences in the Western lands and giving
his opinion on ways to keep those who had rebelled mollified under the
Shogun’s rule.
The council ended early on the first day, with the Shogun wisely giving the
daimyo time to digest his demands and work their frustrations out amongst
themselves. That night, Adam took Tommy out into the city. Edo at night was
breathtaking, with glowing lanterns in a rainbow of colors illuminating the
streets. They bought gifts — Tommy chose a hairpin for his mother, and
Adam selected a scroll of the sayings of Zhu Xi for his father — and
walked along the waterfront. “Adam,” Tommy spoke up after a
while, “are you going to come live in Edo?” He was staring out at
the reflection of the lights in the water, and Adam could see by the set of his
shoulders that he was tense.
“I do not know,” Adam said. “I am not certain what my
father would wish, and I am not certain whether the Shogun would allow me to
come in his stead.” Tommy looked down at his feet, shifting his weight,
and a pang struck Adam at how nervous the boy seemed. “If I did, it
would be only for a year, and then I would return to the prefecture.”
“I would not accompany you?” Tommy’s voice did not waver,
but Adam could hear the strain in it.
“What about your family?” Adam asked. “You likely would
not see them for a year.”
Tommy sighed. “It would only be for a year.”
Adam did not want to belabor the subject when it was quite possible that this
would never come to pass. Tommy was on edge, and Adam wanted to soothe him.
“If I do in fact come to Edo in my father’s place, I will speak
to your parents about you accompanying me. I will make no promises, but I will
at least discuss it.”
“Thank you,” Tommy said, turning and starting in the direction of
the castle. Adam came up alongside him and rested a hand on Tommy’s
shoulder as they walked.

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The following afternoon the daimyo were milling about in the castle’s
rock garden during a recess when a familiar voice called out. “Adam!
Good to see you!” It belonged to a man Adam had not seen in some years.
“Lord Takeda,” Adam said warmly, bowing low to the daimyo to whom
his sensei had sworn loyalty. Lord Takeda had attended Adam’s coming of
age ceremony when he was named a full samurai. It had been their last meeting.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” Lord Takeda said. “I had
expected to see your father here.”
“I am here as his representative,” Adam said. “I was eager
to visit the city again, and the Shogun wanted me to share what I had seen in
the Western lands.”
“It is just as well,” Lord Takeda replied. “It will not be
long before you can assume lordship of the prefecture. Better to be on the cusp
of all this, ready for the changes that lie ahead.” Adam nodded, and
they stood in silence for a moment before Lord Takeda spoke again.
“Master Nakata would be pleased to see you here.”
Hearing his sensei’s name still touched off an ache deep in
Adam’s chest. “He would?”
“He was grateful to train the son of a daimyo, he told me once,”
Lord Takeda said. “Even a decade ago Nakata saw that the time of the
samurai was coming to an end. He was glad your bloodline guaranteed you a place
that did not depend on war.”
“The changes the Shogun is making will certainly stifle any more major
battles,” Adam said. “Though as yet, no daimyo seem to be
dismissing their samurai, at least not in any great numbers.”
“No,” Lord Takeda agreed. “Not yet. Though I think in ten
years’ time we will see that change.”
Just then the gong was rung to call the daimyo back to the council chamber.
Lord Takeda bid Adam goodbye and headed inside. For a long moment Adam watched
him walk away and wondered, with a wave of something that felt like guilt
washing over him, what kind of future he was preparing Tommy for.

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The council proceeded with as much decorum as could be expected when two
hundred men were being asked, effectively, to surrender a significant amount of
their power to a single ruler. There were heated arguments; several daimyo
stormed out abruptly, and at one point Adam feared the entire hall was going to
break out into a riot when tea was served nearly twenty minutes late. But
progress was made: maps were drawn and schedules were created, and often Adam
found himself helping the Shogun and his advisors work out the minor details of
various compromises. It was engaging in a way he never felt when he would
mediate two farmers squabbling over the orchard that spanned their properties;
far more grave consequences were at stake here. This was a critical step in
bringing lasting peace to the whole country, and though Adam was a samurai who
lived by his sword, even he knew the goal of fighting was victory — to
end the battle for good.
On the final day of the council, Adam was unexpectedly summoned to the garden.
When he arrived, he found the Shogun and three of the advisors with whom Adam
had worked closely over the last few days. “My lords,” Adam said,
surprised to find them here waiting for him. “To what do I owe the
pleasure of this meeting?”
“Adam, my friend,” the Shogun began. “You have been most
helpful in crafting this agreement with the daimyo. I thank you for that. This
council has progressed more smoothly than I had expected.”
Adam bowed humbly. “My duty is to serve you, my lord.”
Lord Tokugawa motioned them to one of the stone benches in the garden.
“How would you like to serve as one of my advisors? Only with a great
deal of diplomacy will Japan remain at peace. Your skills would be most
valuable.”
“It would be an honor, my lord,” Adam managed, his heart racing
at the offer, at the idea.
“You would have your own chambers in the castle. I would exempt your
father from the sankin kotai and allow him to stay in his prefecture as long as
you remain in my service.” The Shogun paused, but when Adam responded
with nothing but silence, he continued. “I know this is no small thing I
ask of you. Return home and discuss it with your father. If you believe this
obligation is one you cannot fulfill, I will understand. You both have done
much for me already.”
Adam finally spurred himself into speech. “It has been our privilege to
fight for you, my lord. I thank you for the generous offer, and for the time to
consider it. I will discuss it with my father and give you my decision
swiftly.” The Shogun and his advisors departed, leaving Adam to stare up
at the open sky.
A year ago, Adam would not have thought twice, would have accepted the
Shogun’s proposition on the spot with unrestrained enthusiasm. A year
ago, he was restless and felt that helping his father run the prefecture was an
exercise in biding his time, waiting for something big to come along and give
him a sense of purpose that he had not had since returning from the Western
lands. But once Tommy had become his apprentice, everything had changed.
Tommy came up to him soon after he returned to the council chamber.
“They said you were called away to a private meeting with the
Shogun,” Tommy said in a hushed voice.
If I tell him now, he will panic. He will want to know what will happen to him
if I accept the Shogun's offer, but I do not have an answer. Lord
Takeda’s words yesterday still weighed heavily on Adam; he had no idea
what was the best decision here, but he could not shake the feeling that no
choice would be right for them both, so for the moment he said nothing.
“He wanted to thank me for my help with the negotiations,” Adam
said stiffly. “It was a very kind gesture on his part.”
“But well deserved,” Tommy replied, and made no further mention
of it that evening. When the final agreements had been signed, the council
concluded with another feast, and it was late before they retired to their room
for their last night in Edo.
Tommy was awake early and had already packed most of their things by the time
Adam rose. They were both reluctant to leave the city, and so it was with
little ceremony that they set out on the road home. They conversed sparsely
until they stopped to eat and rest the horses at midday. “I have had
little chance to ask about your page duties,” Adam said as Tommy
unpacked the rice. “Did you enjoy the experience?”
“Oh yes,” Tommy replied eagerly. “I learned much from the
other pages. I also met many daimyo; when I told them I was your apprentice,
they all remarked on your bravery. You seem to have quite a reputation. Some
even speculated that the Shogun might offer you a role as an advisor. I know
pride is a fault, but I could not help but be proud that they would think so
highly of you, sensei.”
Perhaps it was Adam’s own pride that made him speak up then. “He
did,” Adam said quietly, and then again, louder, with the conviction of
a confession one has resigned oneself to making. “The Shogun did ask me
to become an advisor. I did not… I wanted to think more about it before
I told you.” He flicked his eyes up to find Tommy watching him with an
unreadable expression. “I do not know whether I will accept. I must
speak to my father.”
“Of course you must accept!” Tommy said with unexpected
enthusiasm. “Think of it! You would be one of Lord Tokugawa’s
most trusted companions. We would live in the castle and the whole of Edo would
be at our doorstep!”
“Tommy,” Adam said, his brow creasing, “I could not bring
you with me.” That was the crux of it, out now between them. It was what
Adam had been reluctant to face.
Tommy’s expression tumbled into distress. “Oh… I did not
realize… If the Shogun said you could not — ”
“No, Tommy, this is not the Shogun’s determination, it is mine. I
would not take you from your family. I would not take you from your home. Even
for a year, I did not want to uproot you from that. This… this is
permanent. This, I will not consider.” Adam’s tone was more stern
than he meant it to be, but as he spoke he felt himself growing hot with anger.
He did not want to make this choice. He resented the Shogun for putting him in
this position.
“But what of my training?” There was still disbelief in
Tommy’s voice.
“Becoming a samurai will not be a boon to you, Tommy. This policy of the
Shogun’s to force the daimyo to live in Edo, it is going to bring an end
to all the fighting. If there are no wars, there is no need for samurai. You
were better off on your farm, before you ever met me.”
“You think after everything — after the year we spent together
— that I never should have left the farm? You think going back there is
what is best for me?” Tommy was incredulous, nearly accusatory, and his
vehemence reminded Adam, rather unexpectedly, of their very first meeting, when
Adam riled Tommy to anger just to see how he would react. It was impossible to
ignore, the difference between the boy he met a year ago and the young man
standing before him now.
“I am sorry,” Adam said. “My intent was not to belittle
the time we have spent together. I am in your debt for all you have given me.
But I cannot in good conscience take you away with me. It is one thing to shirk
your training for an afternoon to keep you in my bed, but this would be
blatantly selfish.”
“It is not selfish to promise to train me and then walk away?”
Tommy’s voice was bitter, and he would not look at Adam.
“If I worked for the Shogun I would have little time for your
training,” Adam pleaded, feeling pained now at how angry Tommy was.
“If you are certain you wish to continue your apprenticeship, I could
speak to my father and see about finding another samurai who could train
you.”
“And hand off my training again,” Tommy said spitefully, then
stood and began collecting their things. “When I first came to you, you
would send me to work with Shiro and I wondered if you even wanted me as your
apprentice. But I did not… I did not think that was still how you
felt.”
“Tommy, please believe that I do not want to be apart from you. I can
refuse the Shogun’s offer, but I still think that becoming a samurai is
not what is best for you. You will have a far more stable future taking over
the farm from your father.”
“No, you must do as the Shogun asks, Adam. You cannot refuse him on my
account. Besides, you do not want to.” Tommy sounded disappointed.
Defeated.
“You will see that this is for the best,” Adam said as earnestly
as he could manage.
“Do you remember the day I quit my apprenticeship and you came after me,
gave me your wakizashi and begged me to come back?” Tommy asked.
“I did not think about fighting battles or how stable my future would
be. I came back because I wanted to be with you, Adam. And because I thought
you wanted to be with me. If you left me behind to go to battle, at least I
would understand. At least I could hope you would come back for me. Here I had
been afraid that war would come between us, but in fact it is peace that would
take you from me.”
Tommy was angrily stalking about the clearing, picking up the few items left on
the ground. Adam wanted to hold Tommy still until he would see Adam’s
reasoning, until he had to admit that Adam was right. But this was not a battle
he could fight with conviction, and there was no equitable solution he could
see. He thought he should let their tempers cool for a short while, so rather
than pushing the issue he rose to help clean up their things, but Tommy rather
coldly shooed him away. “No, let me. In fact, you should ride on ahead.
I will clean up here and catch up in a short while.”
Tommy was asking for time alone, and Adam could not bring himself to deny the
request, even though the thought of walking away was agonizing. “Very
well,” Adam said. “The next post station is five kilometers down
the road. I will wait for you there.”
Tommy nodded but did not speak, did not even turn toward him. He came up behind
Tommy and set a hand gently on his shoulder, needing one small moment of
contact. The tremor that ran through Tommy sparked a sharp sickness in his gut,
and it was clear in that moment how much this hurt Tommy. “I do love
you, Tommy. I do not want us to be apart. But the world is changing. I cannot
tear you away from your family to train for a way of life that may be obsolete
before you even come of age. On the farm you have a future; with me…
there is nothing I can guarantee you. No teacher with any honor would ask a
student to choose such a fruitless path.”
Tommy shrugged out from under Adam’s hand, and after a few moments
longer Adam relented at last and went to his horse, forcing himself to leave
Tommy be. Nonetheless he rode slowly, giving Tommy ample time to catch up. He
caught himself looking back over his shoulder repeatedly, listening too closely
for the sound of an approaching horse, and when he admitted at last that Tommy
was not rushing after him, a sense of loneliness settled over him that was
jarring in its unfamiliarity. Of late, he had come to forget the coldness of
being on his own and hollowness that comes with having no one with whom to
share a story or a meal or a bed.
But he could not go back to Tommy — that too would be selfish. Tommy
needed time to see that this was the right choice. What would Tommy even do in
Edo? Adam could not imagine him being content with a life of running messages
and keeping logs. Neither Tommy’s father nor Adam’s had agreed to
that arrangement, and Tommy would not either once he was less clouded by
emotion.
Yes, Tommy would come to his senses and he would forgive Adam. They would enjoy
the last few months they had together, and then Adam would leave for Edo and
Tommy would stay in the prefecture. Adam would find him a new sensei, though
the idea of Tommy belonging to anyone else made Adam’s insides twist.
They could send letters, and visit. He would not let Tommy forget that he loved
him. Though theirs had been brief, there was no bond like that between a
samurai and his apprentice.
Adam wondered how he would have reacted had Master Nakata ended their
relationship over something like this. Could he have walked away? I would have
been heard all the way in China with how loud and long I would have protested.
He was laughing at himself, at what a headstrong child he would have acted,
when the arrow struck him in the arm. His horse reared up in fright, and
immediately he dismounted and drew his sword. He was scanning the trees that
lined the road here for any sign of his attacker when another blow landed, this
time on the back of the head, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.

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Adam woke to someone patting his face repeatedly and somewhere he heard
Tommy’s voice, though he could not make out the words. His head throbbed
but he forced himself to open his eyes, because hearing Tommy’s voice
was not enough, he needed to see him. The hand that had been tapping at his
cheek ran soothingly over his forehead, and in a few seconds Tommy came into
focus, his eyes intent. “Adam? How badly are you hurt?”
Adam let his eyes slide closed in the hope of quieting the pounding in his
head. “You came back,” he murmured, and he felt his face pull
into a smile.
“Adam, can you stand up? Your arm is bleeding badly. We need to get you
to the post station and find a healer.” As Tommy spoke, Adam heard the
ripping of cloth. He had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting as Tommy
pulled the arrow from the meat of his right arm with a sharp, swift jerk and
began wrapping the wound with bandages. The pain cut through some of the fog in
Adam’s mind, enough to remind him to ascertain whether they were still
in danger here.
“Tommy, what happened?”
“I was coming up the road when I heard you shout. I rode as fast as I
could, and found you lying in the road. The robbers were going through your
packs, but as soon as they saw me they ran off. I suppose a samurai apprentice
bearing down on them at full gallop with his katana drawn caught them by
surprise,” Tommy chuckled. “I saw only two, but I do not know if
there were more. We should move. They may return.”
Adam moved as quickly as he was able, letting Tommy pull him up, help him onto
his horse, lead him down the road. He managed to stay alert as they rode the
few remaining kilometers to the post station, but once the station workers saw
the blood on him they came running, and he gave himself over to their
ministrations.
It was night when he awoke on a soft mattress in a room lit by lanterns. He
ached, dully in his head and sharply in his arm, but less so than before. He
moved to sit and right away Tommy was at his side, though Adam had not realized
he was in the room until a beat before Tommy’s hand swept against his
back to help him up.
“How are you feeling?” Tommy said gently. Once Adam was sitting
Tommy did not take his hand away.
“Better than before. Better than I would have if you had not
come.”
“I never should have sent you off alone,” Tommy said, shaking his
head. “This would not have happened if I had not lost my temper. I am
sorry, Adam.”
Adam took Tommy’s hand in his. “You saved my life. Do not be
sorry. I am the one who should apologize. I am the one who is breaking our
bond. Please understand, Tommy, this is not what I want.”
Tommy tried to pull away, but Adam held his grip. “Then why are you
leaving me? Neither of us wish this. How can you think this is what is
best?”
“I lived with Master Nakata until I turned eighteen and became a samurai
myself. I did not want to leave him. He had been my whole life since I began my
training with him as a boy. He told me, ‘Adam, you and I have different
paths to travel. They have run alongside one another for many years now, and
for that I am both lucky and grateful. But here our paths diverge. The greatest
sin a master can commit is to hold his pupil back from following his own
destiny.’”
“But what if you are wrong?” Tommy asked, sorrow heavy in his
voice. “Adam, I have learned and seen and come to understand more in the
last year with you than I have in my whole life. I can do things I never would
have thought myself capable of. How can I go back to harvesting rice when I
have served as a page in the court of the Shogun? You are a great samurai,
Adam, and that means far more than being a great warrior. You have the respect
of every daimyo in that council, even of the Shogun himself. That is what you
are meant to teach me. That is my destiny. It does not matter to me whether
there are battles to fight. Becoming a samurai is not what is best for me, you
are right. I think you are what is best for me.”
Tommy’s words gave Adam pause. “But what about your training?
What about your future?”
“I do not care!” Tommy shouted, exasperated, but then took a deep
breath and spoke more softly. “You know, there are schools in Edo where
I could learn calligraphy or music. Perhaps I could serve in the castle in some
small capacity. It would make no difference to me, as long as I could be with
you.”
“I could not ask you to do that. To spend your days at something that
would not make you happy.” Adam’s protest, however, carried
little conviction. Tommy had done quite well in his page duties during the
council. Maybe his future was not as a warrior or as a farmer, but as something
else entirely.
“That is what you are asking me to do now,” Tommy countered.
“Let me at least come to the city with you for a few months. If, after
that, you still believe I belong back on the farm, then I will go.”
“I do not know,” Adam said hesitantly. It was a tempting plan,
but he needed more time to consider, and preferably when his head was not still
throbbing. “I would have to speak with my father, and with
yours.”
“I could ask them myself,” Tommy said eagerly. “I would
make them see that this is for the best.”
Adam could not help but laugh. “I believe you would. You would win over
everyone in the prefecture if you had to.”
Tommy smiled at him then, and as he looked into Tommy’s warm eyes Adam
felt hopeful. He pictured for a moment the two of them together, walking
through the gardens of Edo Castle. It could work. They loved one another, and
they could make it work.
Tommy gingerly wrapped his arms around Adam and tucked himself in close.
“No samurai, even an apprentice, would not fight for that which is most
precious to him,” Tommy said as Adam dropped a kiss on his forehead.
“My sensei taught me that.”
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End Notes
     The longest damn thing I ever wrote, both in word count and in time
     from start to finish. This fic signifies closure in a lot of ways for
     me, so I humbly beg your indulgence for what is something of an
     absurdly late swan song. I know this is unforgivable underage fic,
     but fwiw, the relationship between a samurai and his young male
     apprentice is historically accurate and known as wakashudo. I did
     take a few liberties with timelines, and my geography may have some
     flaws, but the basis here is the unification of feudal Japan under
     Shogun Ieyasu Tokugawa. Written (well, finished) for the
     lambliffbigbang.
     I lay this at the feet of my beta adamaddict_rh. I told her about
     this fic the day we met, and I never would have finished this if it
     weren’t for her. I am forever in debt to her for her patience,
     her time, her support and her whip-cracking. I am an idiot and she
     stands by me <333
     So much love to my artist, xsilverdreamsx, who really outdid herself
     and made art that is absolutely perfect and gorgeous. Please go to
     her journal and shower her with praise!
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