AU Series: Equilibrium - Chapter One
Equilibrium:
n. an equal balance between any powers or influences; a state of mental or emotional balance.
Chapter One
Sho exhaled. He closed his eyes and finally let his body feel the tension and strain of the four-day journey. A member of the household staff had brought his luggage - a solitary canvas bag - to his quarters and arranged it beside the low rosewood table. On the dark lacquered surface, a fine ceramic tea service was prepared for his arrival. Sho pulled at the ties holding his armour in place, removing the weighty pieces and set them on the tatami mats beside his bag. Sho's body groaned with fatigue as he crawled onto the futon laid out in the middle of the room. The porcelain basin of warm water steamed gently beside the vanity, untouched.
He was vaulted from dreamless sleep by the sound of breaking ceramics, spilling water and hushed swearing. He sat up and searched under his pillow for his sword that wasn't there. He remembered being relinquished of his arms upon entering the castle that evening. The head of the household staff told him it was meant as a sign of trust to the daimyo. Sho hadn't really minded; he had never gotten used to being armed constantly. As his eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn light, he saw a person knelt on the tatami picking up the largest pieces of what used to be the white porcelain basin, mopping up the ice cold water with the apron they wore.
"Who are you?" Sho asked, voice croaking slightly with misuse and exhaustion. The person started and bowed low, chocolate brown hair fanning out across the mats. Fine hands pressed to the mats, index fingers only just touching, in a well practiced motion. Sho noted the prayer beads encircling their left wrist.
"Please excuse my interruption, I am so terribly sorry to have woken you."
"Ah, no. It's fine... but can I ask... what you are doing in my room?" Sho could feel his cheeks burn at being addressed so formally. The person rose gracefully from the waist, fingertips ghosting across the tatami, kneeling in seiza. As they sat up Sho could finally see that it was a man, no older than himself. He sat demurely, eyes downcast. Sho relaxed, realizing that he was a chamber attendant.
"I was refreshing the water in your basin so it would be warm when you awoke but..." He reached for the broken shards of basin and held them with the front of his apron. "I'm so sorry; I will bring a new one right away." Before Sho could protest, the largest pieces had been gathered up in his apron and he was gone, sliding the paneled door closed behind him. Sho crawled into his futon and his eyes drifted closed again. The last thing he heard was the tinkle of porcelain.
When Sho next awoke, the sun was high. Bright clear light filtered through the paper screens shuttering the windows, casting soft glow into his quarters. No longer dizzy with exhaustion, he could properly observe his surroundings. His room was a modest eight tatami mats, sparsely furnished with a rosewood kotatsu table, a long tansu chest along the eastern wall under windows and a stand specially made for armour. He saw a white basin perched on a tall cedar stand in the corner of the room with a linen towel draped over opening of the basin. The closet doors were painted with a bamboo grove in high summer, lush with green shoots that looked real enough to sway in the breeze. Whoever had replaced the broken basin had also placed his armour on its stand and left a tray with a light meal on the kotatsu.
Sho tucked into his breakfast and replayed his arrival at Iwatsuki Castle. He remembered standing in front of the Black Gate, frozen in fear and awe. He had taken several deep breaths and re-adjusted his father's - no, his - armour. He recalled looking at the large oak doors, stained with black with resin, decorated with large metal rings. When open, the gate would be wide enough for two carts to pass through side by side. The immensity of the structure had made Sho feel that much smaller. He approached the doors and knocked; a gruff voice asked for identification and a statement of purpose. Sho had fumbled with his pack and dug out a lacquered tube containing his family's registration papers. The guard opened a door inset in the large gate that Sho had failed to take notice of. The guard had examined the papers stamped with the provincial seal and then stepped aside to allow Sho passage.
He had been greeted in the main entry by a well-dressed, middle-aged man who had introduced himself as Matsumoto, the head of household affairs. Two steps behind him stood his son, a young man introduced as Jun. Sho remembered handing over his family's sword for safe-keeping. Matsumoto-san apologized profusely on behalf of the daimyo who had already retired for the evening, but they had not been expecting a visit from the Sakurai family. Similarly, Sho made profound apologies for arriving unannounced and produced a letter addressed to the daimyo penned by his father from his deathbed. After stumbling through another round of flowery formalities, Sho had been lead blindly by candlelight to a guest house in the north-east corner of the castle grounds by Matsumoto's son. They exchanged pleasantries and small talk, but walked largely in silence. Yet, Sho had been left with an impression of kindness.
Sho looked up as he heard the rustle of fabric and footsteps in the hallway outside his room.
“Excuse me.” The paneled door slid open, revealing the young Matsumoto kneeling in the hallway. He wore a simple black robe tied with a grey obi. Stamped on the front of each shoulder was a small family crest, a wreath of pine, in white. “Good morning, Sakurai-san. I hope you slept well.”
“Good morning, Matsumoto-san.” Sho ducked his head in greeting. “Um, if you count being woken up at some ungodly hour by a stranger in your room ‘a good sleep’… then yes, I did.”
The young Matsumoto sighed, biting back a grin and shook his head lightly. “I have to apologize for that. Aiba-san… well, he is a bit clumsy, to say the least, but means no harm by it. And please, just call me Jun; Matsumoto-san is my father. You don’t need to pay me such respects.”
“A-alright. Jun.” Sho smiled briefly but dipped his head again.
“I see you’ve eaten. The bath is free if you would like, before this morning's meeting. I’m sure you would like to clean up after your journey.”
“... Meeting?”
“Yes, I was sent to tell you that the daimyo requests your presence at this morning’s conference. It is his last before he returns to the capital and he would like to meet you.” Jun stifled a chuckle as Sho paled.
After bathing and donning fresh clothes, Jun accompanied Sho back to the keep. All of the buildings were linked by wooden covered walkways. The central courtyard contained the towering keep, the daimyo’s palace and main residence. A second courtyard surrounded the first, where a minor palace housing the daimyo's chief retainers was built. A third courtyard, where the guest house was located, stood adjacent. Surrounding the castle was a lily pond that doubled as a moat; the grounds were littered with small gardens and cherry trees. Situated on the top of a hill, the white tiered castle was afforded a view of the clusters of houses and farmers’ fields that made up the castle town.
Jun lead the way up the wooden staircase in the centre of the keep, climbing to the third floor. The landing opened onto one large room that encompassed the entire floor with a high ceiling. Latticed windows looked out to all four directions, showcasing the azure sky and the land below. Sho held his breath as he stepped towards a western facing window; surely, people were not meant to be this high off the ground.
A large heavy table strewn with maps and charts stood in the southern half of the room; in the northern half were three rows of narrow , overcrowded bookcases. Standing around the table were a dozen men.
"Sho-kun?" Sho turned towards the sound of the astonished voice. A smile broke across his face in recognition, the first since his arrival at Iwatsuki.
"Satoshi-kun!" The shorter man approached and they embraced like brothers. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. I haven't seen you in..."
"Far too long."
"Ahem. Ahem!" A throat was cleared loudly in their direction. Sho flushed brightly; Ohno ducked his head sheepishly. "I hate to break up your little reunion, touching though it is, but I am in the middle of conducting a meeting." Robed in purple, the man who spoke commanded the attention of the entire room from his seat at the head of the large wooden table. Jun stepped forward from behind Sho, having been momentarily forgotten on the landing.
"Kimura-sama, as you requested: Sakurai Sho-san." Realizing his place, Sho bowed low hurriedly.
"Thank you, Jun. That will be all." The daimyo waved vaguely in Jun's direction, dismissing him. "I received your father's letter, Sakurai, and I'm sorry to hear about his death. He was a great statesman." Sho stood up straight at being addressed, but kept his eyes cast to the floor.
"Thank you, sir."
"Come. Join us." Ohno nudged Sho in the direction of the table. A large map of the entire province was laid out with little flags of red and white. Sho saw the name of his village in delicate calligraphy in the north-west.
The men gathered were all samurai from across the province, sworn to the service of the daimyo. They were being briefed on the current civil uprisings and political uncertainties, making preparations to maintain order while Kimura returned to Kyoto for his year of required attendance at the Imperial court.
"I trust you all will keep things running smoothly in my absence. Now, I suppose some introductions are in order." Sho tried his best to memorize which name went with which stubbled face. Nakai, Kusanagi, Inagaki and Katori, from the north, would be joining Kimura in the capital as members of his military attaché while the rest remained. Morita and Nagano came from the east, Okada and Miyake from the west, and Yamaguchi from the south. Nagase, the daimyo's second-in-command, hailed from the provincial capital. "And you already know Ohno-san, through some strange twist of fate."
"Yes, we were conscripted for military training together." Ohno said as he glanced at Sho and offered a small smile.
"In that case, you can be the one to get him acquainted with things around here."
"Yes, sir."
"He will be staying with us for a while." It was a statement, not a question.
As it turned out, Ohno resided in the same guest house as Sho. He had come to the castle to pay respects to the daimyo five years ago and never left. Ohno's father had transferred his title and power to his son after the completion of Ohno's military training. His father returned to being a simple - albeit considerably wealthy - farmer, hoping his son would find some direction and purpose with his newfound responsibilities. Kimura warmly welcomed the green samurai, installed him in the guest wing and kept him comfortable. They had been living in peace for the last several years so Ohno was idle much of the time. Any required tactical planning and civil suppression was handled by the older samurai who had been in Kimura’s service longer. Unable to leave until being formally relieved from Kimura's service, Ohno filled his days with physical exercise and aesthetics.
They were all dismissed from the daimyo’s presence until the midday meal. Normally, each were free to eat in their quarters but Kimura’s annual departure to and return from the capital were met with certain pomp and circumstance.
The formal dining hall in the main palace was set with twelve lacquered trays, arranged in a horseshoe. When they were all seated, with Kimura in the centre, speeches and toasts were given for safe journeys and prosperity. Attendants moved about the room in silence carrying dish after dish, keeping tea cups full. Sho watched the maids retreat as the last of the dishes were set on the trays before them. Matsumoto-san sat behind Kimura, hawk-like gaze watching and anticipating anything that may be required. Beside him sat Jun; beside Jun were two others. Before Sho could observe them properly, the daimyo started to speak.
“Thank you all for the warm send-off, as always. This time, I have decided to accept Matsumoto-san’s offer to come with me to Kyoto to oversee my affairs in the capital. Jun will take over here, making sure things keep running smoothly. I’m sure he will have no problems.” Matsumoto-san looked every bit the proud father; Jun bowed deeply in deference to his superiors asking for their continued favour and guidance. A sharp movement caught Sho’s attention: the slight man with short dark hair seated beside Jun jabbed an elbow into the side of the man beside him who had now his hands clamped firmly over his mouth. Long, chocolate hair fluttered as his shoulders shuddered with the strain if trying to suppress laughter. Sho cocked his head to the side, eyes flicking between the daimyo and the two beside Jun, wondering what could be so funny.
Kimura sent the elder Matsumoto to prepare the last of the luggage while he left with Jun to discuss some last minute household matters. The man with short dark hair stood - not before glaring at his companion - and began removing empty china and trays as the men of the attaché retired to tend to their own last minute arrangements. The other took a deep breath and pursed his lips, finally stifling the urge to giggle. Dark robes whispered across the tatami as the two circulated, working silently to return the room to its previous unused state. Sho and Ohno were the last to leave, following Nagase and Yamaguchi.
They met the slight dark haired man just outside the dinning hall. He had clear eyes, a mole on his chin and two on his cheek.
“Nino, I’d like you meet an old friend of mine. This is Sakurai Sho.”
“It is an honour to meet you. I am Ninomiya Kazunari, but everyone calls me Nino.” Nino bowed.
“I am a member of the household staff so if you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask.” Sho noticed Nino’s black robe, almost identical to Jun’s.
“Thank you, I will.”
“I wish I could talk more, but I must return to work.” He smiled softly at Ohno, who responded in kind. “I just don’t trust Aiba-san with Kimura-sama’s fine china after the incident this morning.” Sho wrinkled his brow. Aiba… why was that name so familiar?
Having been trained to navigate the hallways of the castle in silence, neither Ohno nor Sho heard the footsteps approaching as they turned away from the dining hall. Sho rounded the corner at the same time as one of the household staff clearing dishes away from the dining hall.
The sharp crack of porcelain echoed in the empty hallway. The clatter of a lacquered tray reverberated against the floorboards.
Sho jumped back as a bowl exploded on the floor, sending ceramic shards and grains of rice in all directions.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” As his shock abated, Sho dropped to his knees, collecting broken pieces of bowl in his hand. “Are you alright?” he asked.
Apologies spilled over lips with such formality, Sho almost couldn’t understand them. His head was bowed so low, Sho could only see the crown of silky brown hair. A gasp and more tinkling of porcelain; Sho saw him clutch his hand and bring his finger to his lips, bright red with blood. Prayer beads clicked as he moved his wrist.
“Ah! It’s you!” Sho’s outburst caused the other man’s head to jerk up. Bright, playful eyes blinked with confusion, looking straight into Sho’s. “You broke the basin in my room this morning.”
Chapter Two
n. an equal balance between any powers or influences; a state of mental or emotional balance.
Chapter One
Sho exhaled. He closed his eyes and finally let his body feel the tension and strain of the four-day journey. A member of the household staff had brought his luggage - a solitary canvas bag - to his quarters and arranged it beside the low rosewood table. On the dark lacquered surface, a fine ceramic tea service was prepared for his arrival. Sho pulled at the ties holding his armour in place, removing the weighty pieces and set them on the tatami mats beside his bag. Sho's body groaned with fatigue as he crawled onto the futon laid out in the middle of the room. The porcelain basin of warm water steamed gently beside the vanity, untouched.
He was vaulted from dreamless sleep by the sound of breaking ceramics, spilling water and hushed swearing. He sat up and searched under his pillow for his sword that wasn't there. He remembered being relinquished of his arms upon entering the castle that evening. The head of the household staff told him it was meant as a sign of trust to the daimyo. Sho hadn't really minded; he had never gotten used to being armed constantly. As his eyes adjusted to the pre-dawn light, he saw a person knelt on the tatami picking up the largest pieces of what used to be the white porcelain basin, mopping up the ice cold water with the apron they wore.
"Who are you?" Sho asked, voice croaking slightly with misuse and exhaustion. The person started and bowed low, chocolate brown hair fanning out across the mats. Fine hands pressed to the mats, index fingers only just touching, in a well practiced motion. Sho noted the prayer beads encircling their left wrist.
"Please excuse my interruption, I am so terribly sorry to have woken you."
"Ah, no. It's fine... but can I ask... what you are doing in my room?" Sho could feel his cheeks burn at being addressed so formally. The person rose gracefully from the waist, fingertips ghosting across the tatami, kneeling in seiza. As they sat up Sho could finally see that it was a man, no older than himself. He sat demurely, eyes downcast. Sho relaxed, realizing that he was a chamber attendant.
"I was refreshing the water in your basin so it would be warm when you awoke but..." He reached for the broken shards of basin and held them with the front of his apron. "I'm so sorry; I will bring a new one right away." Before Sho could protest, the largest pieces had been gathered up in his apron and he was gone, sliding the paneled door closed behind him. Sho crawled into his futon and his eyes drifted closed again. The last thing he heard was the tinkle of porcelain.
When Sho next awoke, the sun was high. Bright clear light filtered through the paper screens shuttering the windows, casting soft glow into his quarters. No longer dizzy with exhaustion, he could properly observe his surroundings. His room was a modest eight tatami mats, sparsely furnished with a rosewood kotatsu table, a long tansu chest along the eastern wall under windows and a stand specially made for armour. He saw a white basin perched on a tall cedar stand in the corner of the room with a linen towel draped over opening of the basin. The closet doors were painted with a bamboo grove in high summer, lush with green shoots that looked real enough to sway in the breeze. Whoever had replaced the broken basin had also placed his armour on its stand and left a tray with a light meal on the kotatsu.
Sho tucked into his breakfast and replayed his arrival at Iwatsuki Castle. He remembered standing in front of the Black Gate, frozen in fear and awe. He had taken several deep breaths and re-adjusted his father's - no, his - armour. He recalled looking at the large oak doors, stained with black with resin, decorated with large metal rings. When open, the gate would be wide enough for two carts to pass through side by side. The immensity of the structure had made Sho feel that much smaller. He approached the doors and knocked; a gruff voice asked for identification and a statement of purpose. Sho had fumbled with his pack and dug out a lacquered tube containing his family's registration papers. The guard opened a door inset in the large gate that Sho had failed to take notice of. The guard had examined the papers stamped with the provincial seal and then stepped aside to allow Sho passage.
He had been greeted in the main entry by a well-dressed, middle-aged man who had introduced himself as Matsumoto, the head of household affairs. Two steps behind him stood his son, a young man introduced as Jun. Sho remembered handing over his family's sword for safe-keeping. Matsumoto-san apologized profusely on behalf of the daimyo who had already retired for the evening, but they had not been expecting a visit from the Sakurai family. Similarly, Sho made profound apologies for arriving unannounced and produced a letter addressed to the daimyo penned by his father from his deathbed. After stumbling through another round of flowery formalities, Sho had been lead blindly by candlelight to a guest house in the north-east corner of the castle grounds by Matsumoto's son. They exchanged pleasantries and small talk, but walked largely in silence. Yet, Sho had been left with an impression of kindness.
Sho looked up as he heard the rustle of fabric and footsteps in the hallway outside his room.
“Excuse me.” The paneled door slid open, revealing the young Matsumoto kneeling in the hallway. He wore a simple black robe tied with a grey obi. Stamped on the front of each shoulder was a small family crest, a wreath of pine, in white. “Good morning, Sakurai-san. I hope you slept well.”
“Good morning, Matsumoto-san.” Sho ducked his head in greeting. “Um, if you count being woken up at some ungodly hour by a stranger in your room ‘a good sleep’… then yes, I did.”
The young Matsumoto sighed, biting back a grin and shook his head lightly. “I have to apologize for that. Aiba-san… well, he is a bit clumsy, to say the least, but means no harm by it. And please, just call me Jun; Matsumoto-san is my father. You don’t need to pay me such respects.”
“A-alright. Jun.” Sho smiled briefly but dipped his head again.
“I see you’ve eaten. The bath is free if you would like, before this morning's meeting. I’m sure you would like to clean up after your journey.”
“... Meeting?”
“Yes, I was sent to tell you that the daimyo requests your presence at this morning’s conference. It is his last before he returns to the capital and he would like to meet you.” Jun stifled a chuckle as Sho paled.
After bathing and donning fresh clothes, Jun accompanied Sho back to the keep. All of the buildings were linked by wooden covered walkways. The central courtyard contained the towering keep, the daimyo’s palace and main residence. A second courtyard surrounded the first, where a minor palace housing the daimyo's chief retainers was built. A third courtyard, where the guest house was located, stood adjacent. Surrounding the castle was a lily pond that doubled as a moat; the grounds were littered with small gardens and cherry trees. Situated on the top of a hill, the white tiered castle was afforded a view of the clusters of houses and farmers’ fields that made up the castle town.
Jun lead the way up the wooden staircase in the centre of the keep, climbing to the third floor. The landing opened onto one large room that encompassed the entire floor with a high ceiling. Latticed windows looked out to all four directions, showcasing the azure sky and the land below. Sho held his breath as he stepped towards a western facing window; surely, people were not meant to be this high off the ground.
A large heavy table strewn with maps and charts stood in the southern half of the room; in the northern half were three rows of narrow , overcrowded bookcases. Standing around the table were a dozen men.
"Sho-kun?" Sho turned towards the sound of the astonished voice. A smile broke across his face in recognition, the first since his arrival at Iwatsuki.
"Satoshi-kun!" The shorter man approached and they embraced like brothers. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. I haven't seen you in..."
"Far too long."
"Ahem. Ahem!" A throat was cleared loudly in their direction. Sho flushed brightly; Ohno ducked his head sheepishly. "I hate to break up your little reunion, touching though it is, but I am in the middle of conducting a meeting." Robed in purple, the man who spoke commanded the attention of the entire room from his seat at the head of the large wooden table. Jun stepped forward from behind Sho, having been momentarily forgotten on the landing.
"Kimura-sama, as you requested: Sakurai Sho-san." Realizing his place, Sho bowed low hurriedly.
"Thank you, Jun. That will be all." The daimyo waved vaguely in Jun's direction, dismissing him. "I received your father's letter, Sakurai, and I'm sorry to hear about his death. He was a great statesman." Sho stood up straight at being addressed, but kept his eyes cast to the floor.
"Thank you, sir."
"Come. Join us." Ohno nudged Sho in the direction of the table. A large map of the entire province was laid out with little flags of red and white. Sho saw the name of his village in delicate calligraphy in the north-west.
The men gathered were all samurai from across the province, sworn to the service of the daimyo. They were being briefed on the current civil uprisings and political uncertainties, making preparations to maintain order while Kimura returned to Kyoto for his year of required attendance at the Imperial court.
"I trust you all will keep things running smoothly in my absence. Now, I suppose some introductions are in order." Sho tried his best to memorize which name went with which stubbled face. Nakai, Kusanagi, Inagaki and Katori, from the north, would be joining Kimura in the capital as members of his military attaché while the rest remained. Morita and Nagano came from the east, Okada and Miyake from the west, and Yamaguchi from the south. Nagase, the daimyo's second-in-command, hailed from the provincial capital. "And you already know Ohno-san, through some strange twist of fate."
"Yes, we were conscripted for military training together." Ohno said as he glanced at Sho and offered a small smile.
"In that case, you can be the one to get him acquainted with things around here."
"Yes, sir."
"He will be staying with us for a while." It was a statement, not a question.
As it turned out, Ohno resided in the same guest house as Sho. He had come to the castle to pay respects to the daimyo five years ago and never left. Ohno's father had transferred his title and power to his son after the completion of Ohno's military training. His father returned to being a simple - albeit considerably wealthy - farmer, hoping his son would find some direction and purpose with his newfound responsibilities. Kimura warmly welcomed the green samurai, installed him in the guest wing and kept him comfortable. They had been living in peace for the last several years so Ohno was idle much of the time. Any required tactical planning and civil suppression was handled by the older samurai who had been in Kimura’s service longer. Unable to leave until being formally relieved from Kimura's service, Ohno filled his days with physical exercise and aesthetics.
They were all dismissed from the daimyo’s presence until the midday meal. Normally, each were free to eat in their quarters but Kimura’s annual departure to and return from the capital were met with certain pomp and circumstance.
The formal dining hall in the main palace was set with twelve lacquered trays, arranged in a horseshoe. When they were all seated, with Kimura in the centre, speeches and toasts were given for safe journeys and prosperity. Attendants moved about the room in silence carrying dish after dish, keeping tea cups full. Sho watched the maids retreat as the last of the dishes were set on the trays before them. Matsumoto-san sat behind Kimura, hawk-like gaze watching and anticipating anything that may be required. Beside him sat Jun; beside Jun were two others. Before Sho could observe them properly, the daimyo started to speak.
“Thank you all for the warm send-off, as always. This time, I have decided to accept Matsumoto-san’s offer to come with me to Kyoto to oversee my affairs in the capital. Jun will take over here, making sure things keep running smoothly. I’m sure he will have no problems.” Matsumoto-san looked every bit the proud father; Jun bowed deeply in deference to his superiors asking for their continued favour and guidance. A sharp movement caught Sho’s attention: the slight man with short dark hair seated beside Jun jabbed an elbow into the side of the man beside him who had now his hands clamped firmly over his mouth. Long, chocolate hair fluttered as his shoulders shuddered with the strain if trying to suppress laughter. Sho cocked his head to the side, eyes flicking between the daimyo and the two beside Jun, wondering what could be so funny.
Kimura sent the elder Matsumoto to prepare the last of the luggage while he left with Jun to discuss some last minute household matters. The man with short dark hair stood - not before glaring at his companion - and began removing empty china and trays as the men of the attaché retired to tend to their own last minute arrangements. The other took a deep breath and pursed his lips, finally stifling the urge to giggle. Dark robes whispered across the tatami as the two circulated, working silently to return the room to its previous unused state. Sho and Ohno were the last to leave, following Nagase and Yamaguchi.
They met the slight dark haired man just outside the dinning hall. He had clear eyes, a mole on his chin and two on his cheek.
“Nino, I’d like you meet an old friend of mine. This is Sakurai Sho.”
“It is an honour to meet you. I am Ninomiya Kazunari, but everyone calls me Nino.” Nino bowed.
“I am a member of the household staff so if you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask.” Sho noticed Nino’s black robe, almost identical to Jun’s.
“Thank you, I will.”
“I wish I could talk more, but I must return to work.” He smiled softly at Ohno, who responded in kind. “I just don’t trust Aiba-san with Kimura-sama’s fine china after the incident this morning.” Sho wrinkled his brow. Aiba… why was that name so familiar?
Having been trained to navigate the hallways of the castle in silence, neither Ohno nor Sho heard the footsteps approaching as they turned away from the dining hall. Sho rounded the corner at the same time as one of the household staff clearing dishes away from the dining hall.
The sharp crack of porcelain echoed in the empty hallway. The clatter of a lacquered tray reverberated against the floorboards.
Sho jumped back as a bowl exploded on the floor, sending ceramic shards and grains of rice in all directions.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” As his shock abated, Sho dropped to his knees, collecting broken pieces of bowl in his hand. “Are you alright?” he asked.
Apologies spilled over lips with such formality, Sho almost couldn’t understand them. His head was bowed so low, Sho could only see the crown of silky brown hair. A gasp and more tinkling of porcelain; Sho saw him clutch his hand and bring his finger to his lips, bright red with blood. Prayer beads clicked as he moved his wrist.
“Ah! It’s you!” Sho’s outburst caused the other man’s head to jerk up. Bright, playful eyes blinked with confusion, looking straight into Sho’s. “You broke the basin in my room this morning.”
Chapter Two