Inochi

By Linda

Chapter 10

After I'd wept myself dry, I washed my face, dressed in clean clothes, and went back to attend to Kin’iro, as he’d instructed. I did as he told me to the best of my ability, and said not a word to anyone of what had passed between us. Ayano evidently found my shyness and quietness fascinating; she flirted and teased me at every available opportunity. Of course she affected me; my flesh still rose in her presence, at the sight of her slim, beautiful body and the scent that I now associated with sex, but I was consumed by my thoughts and did not respond. Getting nothing more from me than a blush, she finally wearied of her game, and turned her attention back to Kin’iro, who petted and stroked her as he did before, though his golden eyes were sharp and piercing upon me.

I watched their casual, affectionate touches from beneath my lashes and wondered if they had ever feared lying with others as did I. Ayano had seemed to enjoy it when Kin'iro covered her, and my ears grew warm again when I remembered watching them together. I could not tell what Kin'iro truly thought of his place in life---he'd spoken contemptuously of lying beneath the Meijin, but his whole being had radiated contentment whenever I'd seen him with Hamanari. I wondered if he truly enjoyed it or merely acted with such believability. I dreaded the time when I would lie down before another; anxiety knotted in my stomach at the very thought of it. Kin'iro's words had left no doubt in my mind as to what went where; I knew well my own size when erect, and could not imagine that another, even larger, would fit without a great deal of pain. I thought of Kyo's size, and shuddered at the thought of something like that pushing into me.

Genichi scampered about, played, joked with me between the comportment and etiquette lessons Kin’iro gave, but I could not bring myself to look at him, to look into his huge violet eyes. I could not allow myself to think of his fate. I was an adult, and strong; I knew I could bear up under such things, but he was a child, with a child’s thin slight body, and it made my stomach hurt and twist upon itself to think of him used in such a way. Though Genichi patted me and asked constantly what was wrong with me, I couldn’t tell him, merely shaking my head and murmuring that I did not feel well. It seemed to satisfy him; he’d seen how I’d hurt, how slow my movements still were. My heart felt heavy and weighed down by the burden of what Kin’iro had told me.

After lessons were over, I retreated to the little garden in the center of the compound, and sat on a bench in the sun, letting some of its warmth leach into me; I felt so cold. Genichi sat closely beside me a moment, then rapidly tired of sitting still and began to run on the cool green grass, a quick flash of white and long whisking tail. He was athletic and energetic, tumbling head over heels and doing back handsprings. As I watched him, I realized I’d never really played as he did; all my time had been spent tending goats, working in the garden, and foraging for food. Although Genichi was only six or so years younger than myself, I felt far older than the actual span of years that separated us.

At supper, I automatically ate the food set before me, though for once I wasn’t hungry, and when night came, I didn’t even pretend to set up two futons; I knew Genichi would want to sleep with me. He curled happily into my chest, a soft purring sound rising from his throat, a very comforting sound that slowly faded as he fell asleep. One of his little ears twitched under my chin, still a little damp from our bath, and without thinking about it, I stroked it between my fingers. It was so soft, so warm.

My thoughts spun in unceasing circles. I didn’t want anyone to hurt him. I didn’t want him to fear. I didn’t want to happen to him what I now knew would happen. He was too young, too happy to have attentions like that forced upon him, and I rubbed my eyes hard, trying to banish the pictures that rose up behind my eyelids. Although the room was dark and warm, I couldn’t sleep. I thought of Soujuro and his vile actions, so at contrast with his cool polished smoothness. I thought of Kin’iro, and his words, and his bitterness masked behind that heady sexuality. I thought of Ayano, and the feelings and reactions she’d evoked within me. I missed Haruna and her big heart and sharp tongue, and I missed Kyo, simple but kind and protective of me.

And with Genichi curled closely into my body, I missed Mai more than ever.

I desperately wanted freedom, wanted it so badly I could almost taste it upon my tongue, but I could see no way to obtain it, not with the collar and cuffs on. Magic had put them on me, and I knew of no way other than magic to remove them. I wished I was the mage Haruna had called me; perhaps then I might have fought better, might have evaded this entire turn of events. Cautiously, I ran a tentative finger over the collar around my neck, and I could almost feel the engravings writhe against my skin before it sent a sharp hot pain down my spine that made my breath catch and made me jerk against Genichi. He muttered in his sleep, and absently, I petted his narrow back until he settled again.

There was no hope of escape now, but perhaps when House Retsujou bought me, I could eventually run away. I knew my new owners would watch me carefully, probably lock me away while I wasn’t working---bile rose in the back of my throat at the thought---but if I could convince them I was trustworthy, perhaps in time their guard would ease, and I could escape.

But that could be a very long time. It could be months. It could be ~years~ before the opportunity came. Mai might then be grown---she might be sold away by that time, into the same circumstances. I might never find her in the uncounted Houses and brothels of the Makai, or the house of a private buyer, such as Ayano had been sold to. I might never see her again.

According to Soujuro, I had approximately a fortnight to learn some of Kin’iro’s smoothness, his manners, and then I’d be gone, sold away to House Retsujou. Genichi had far less time than that. Try as I might, my tired mind could figure no way to get him away now, before they sold him. No matter what I wished, none of us had any hope of freedom. Haruna’s parting words to me, when Soujuro had taken me away from the clinic, to live the best life I could live regardless of circumstances and events, came back to me again. I wondered if I could be that strong, though I knew I had to be.

I lay there another hour or so, but still, sleep did not come. I became aware of a need to relieve myself, and carefully, unwound from Genichi, tucking the blankets around him securely. Clad in only my thin white under robe, I ventured down the hallway to the place the slaves used. The hallways were so dark and quiet, unlike the usual bustle of daytime, with only the occasional drowsy guard at his post.

As I passed rooms, my ears caught the occasional sounds of slaves finding comfort with one another or lying with the guards or other slaves higher in the hierarchy, and their scents filtered out to me. I rubbed at my nose, but was too tired for it to have any effect upon me. Whispered gossip ran rife in the slave quarters, and as quiet and self-effacing as I was, I heard quite a bit of it, enough to learn that only slaves like Genichi, Ayano, and myself, who were destined for lives as high-priced bedslaves, were exempt from the beckoning fingers of guards. Kin’iro, from what I understood, belonged exclusively to Hamanari-san, forbidden from all others; not even Soujuro could touch him.

After relieving myself, I trudged wearily back to my room. I was in less pain than before, and moved better now, though still I felt slow and clumsy. It would still be days before I was back to normal, in spite of my ability to heal quickly. The stripes I bore were still bright red, though they had finally closed up, and bruises were bright purple where he’d hit me with his big fists. Though Kuroda had been very thorough, and had beaten me everywhere, my back had taken the majority of punishment. There was one particularly sore place right in the center of my left shoulder blade that still ached horribly. I raised an arm and reached back, trying to reach it to rub as I turned the corner that led back to my quarters. What I saw made me stop in mid-step and mid-reach.

Kin’iro, dressed only in the loose trousers he always wore, stood deep in conversation with two of the guards, his bright head close to their darker ones. It could be no one else; in the dimness of the hallway, lit only by two lamps, his pale skin and golden hair shone like the sun striking off a white cloud. With my keen ears I could hear their soft voices, no more than whispers, and as I braked to a stop, I very clearly heard the word “escape,” and the phrase “three days”.

Whether he was alerted by the soft sound of my bare feet against wooden floor, or my intake of breath, Kin’iro’s sharp golden eyes flashed up and pinned me into place as surely as a spear or naginata. The guards both faded away, though I caught clear sight of their faces; one had been the guard who’d fastened the first collar around my neck the day I tried to escape.

I blinked at Kin’iro as he snarled, baring those long sharp canines. My heart tripped, skipped a beat, then began to race, and my breath grew quicker in my chest. I’m not sure what made me whirl and run; I certainly had no possibility of escape. Perhaps it was the snarl Kin’iro offered, perhaps it was his low, fierce growl I more felt than heard. Whatever it was, I ran, and feared for my very life.

Kin’iro moved almost as fast as thought, certainly faster than I could run in my current state. I saw a flash of gold out of the corner of my eye, and then his fingers closed in my hair and robe. He dragged me effortlessly into the first room we came to, the bath. I fought him, punching and kicking, but he was far stronger than he looked, and my struggles against him were no better than those of a child. We were so deep into the slave quarters that everyone ignored any noise we made. I knew Kin’iro had made everyone around him fearful, and no one would dare to interfere. When I saw where he dragged me, to the big tub filled with hot water, I ~knew~ he intended to drown me there.

Terror rose up within me---no matter what my life was like now, or what it would become, I did not want to die. Not when I still had to get back to Mai. Frantic, I twisted in his grip and sank my teeth into his arm, deeply enough to draw blood. Kin’iro hissed, and slapped me across the face, hard enough that I released him, and my vision swam as I reeled back and went to one knee. I wasn’t sure if the blood I tasted on my tongue was his or my own. With an ease that astounded me, Kin’iro jerked me to my feet, twisted one arm behind my back, and propelled me to the edge of the tub.

I had only a second to draw a deep breath before he forced my head and most of my upper body beneath the still-hot water. His body pressed atop mine, holding me securely in place; I couldn’t kick or reach back to grab him, and it felt as if he were dislocating my shoulder. His hand fisted in my hair held me beneath the water.

I could hear nothing; the water muted all sounds save for the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my head. I thrashed as hard as I could, but could not dislodge him, and could not lever myself out one-handed---he was simply too strong. In a matter of seconds, my lungs burned, and my head spun from lack of air.

Just as I thought reflexes would make me draw in lungfuls of water, Kin’iro pulled me free. I whooped, drew in a great gasp of air, and promptly choked on the water that poured from my face and hair. Kin’iro shook me hard, and gave me a careless toss to the floor. I coughed until I spit up what little water I did swallow and knelt there, drenched and shaking, until I could breathe normally.

“Get up, stupid. I didn’t drown you,” Kin’iro said impatiently. “Though I had every intention to do so.”

I dashed the wet hair over my shoulders and wiped off my face with my hands. Kin’iro stood above me, glaring at the bite I’d given him; it still bled a little, and a small part of me was vindictively glad I’d inflicted some damage in exchange for what he’d done to me.

“Why?” My voice was hoarse and raspy still, made worse by coughing.

Kin’iro licked carefully at the bite, cleaning it of blood. “If they’d found you dead, the guards would’ve locked everything down, and security would’ve been too damn tight.”

Kin’iro reached down, seized the front of my wet robe, and pulled me up until he could look directly into my face. My feet dangled inches above the floor, but it didn't seem as if holding my weight thus caused him any strain. His golden eyes narrowed, and burned with an unholy inner fire. “If you breathe just ~one~ word of this...just ~one~, I’ll kill you, guards or not," he hissed. "And I’ll make you suffer like you’ve never suffered before. Understand?” He set me back on my feet with a thump.

The solution to what I’d worried about all evening came to me in a flash, like a revelation. “Take Genichi with you, and I’ll be as silent as the dead,” I whispered back. “I’ll help you in any way I can, if you get him out of here and to someplace safe.”

His finely-shaped ears flattened against his head and his tail swished agitatedly back and forth around our legs. “Why in hells should I do that?”

“It isn’t right for him to be here,” I returned, feeling strangely calm in the face of his wrath. A tiny part of me wondered if it were possible to use up a lifetime’s worth of terror in a short span of time; I’d certainly had my fair share of it in the past months. “He should not have to face the fate that lies before him. He’s a child.”

“Do you know how many children---some far younger than he---that I’ve seen pass through here? Dozens. He’s like you, like me, merely a commodity. Nothing more than flesh to be sold for gold. What makes Genichi so different than them?”

“I ~know~ him. I didn’t know the others. I can help him. ~You~ can help him.”

“Hn.” Kin’iro scowled at me, and drew himself up to his full height, looking fierce and imposing. “And who is to say I won’t sell the brat myself the moment I’m free of this place?”

“Honor,” I replied promptly. “You said you were a lord...lords are supposed to have more honor than commoners.”

He laughed, softly and bitterly, at that. “Naive little country boy. Deceit runs in the veins of nobility. I’ve seen more honor among common thieves. Honor is nothing more than a fairy tale.”

“Somehow, I don’t think so---not entirely, maybe.” I’d seen how Kin’iro had been with Genichi---he truly liked the boy, and I counted on that. “Take Genichi away from here. I’m old enough I can fend for myself, but he’s too small.”

“What---you’re not begging for me to take you?” Kin’iro looked down his aristocratic nose at me.

“No.” I held out my wrists; the pale light glinted on the bracelets encircling them. “I’ve too many wards. I don’t know how you’ll get past the gates with your collars...I don’t want to know. But I’ve five of them...it would take too long to free me. Genichi has only one.”

Kin’iro gave me a long, hard, assessing look. “We shall see how things go. I make no promises.” He turned away with a flick of his golden tail. “Remember. If you breathe just one word, you’ll die horribly. I’ll make certain you’ll die, even if I do.”

I nodded. Of that, I had no doubt. But to have even a hope of saving Genichi, I would be as quiet as a stone. Kin’iro nodded in return, then he was gone, as silently as he’d attacked. Suddenly I felt very tired; it was as if all the strength drained from me, much like the time the power had poured from me, leaving me as weak as a kit.

I wrung out my wet hair, then slipped out of my under robe and exchanged it for one sitting in a stack on the bench. After I dressed, I ventured back out into the hallway. I saw no one about save for one of the guards I’d seen talking to Kin’iro. He gave me a hard stare as I passed, and I lowered my eyes respectfully, giving him a wide berth.

Back in the room I shared with Genichi, I breathed a sigh of relief, and slipped beneath the covers. Immediately Genichi curled into me, seeking my warmth. He made a little purring sound, then settled, his tail draped as always over my thigh. I stroked it for a moment; it was so soft, like thistledown.

I wondered if Kin’iro would save him. It would have to be soon; he didn’t have much more time with us. Any day, someone could come to collect him, and then he’d be beyond our reach, beyond our ability to help. I thought Kin’iro might help the boy; he had shown Genichi more kindness than anyone else around him. Others he treated with contempt, but Genichi earned true warmth.

I hoped it was enough.

The next day, I made certain I paid attention during lessons, and did the best I could with them. I hadn't slept much after I returned to bed---too much to think about, and fearful of sleep because of the dreams I had. So, after a lot of thought, I’d recognized the truth of Kin’iro’s words; I'd never thought myself to be a stupid man. I knew I’d have to be good to maintain the place Hamanari-san planned to send me. Though the thought of what I would be doing there made my stomach turn, I knew I didn’t want to be sent to the brothels and die that way. If I had no choice in my fate, and it appeared I did not, I’d be wise to make it the easiest fate I could. Life in House Retsujou would be vastly different than in a nameless brothel where I’d be most likely beaten and starved as well as used. Beaten, I couldn’t run away.

I shook my head as I made a circuit of the veranda that encircled the house to stretch my muscles. For once, Genichi didn't shadow me; he had stayed behind in the kitchen to help Cook, though I doubted he'd been much actual help. My thoughts were too dark for such a beautiful spring day. I stopped and looked out over the green, green compound. If I were at home, the garden would be sprouting, and Mai and I would be weeding---the smaller ones weren’t allowed, because they tended to pull up garden plants as well as weeds. The goats would be delivering kids, and the fowl laying. We’d still be eating tala root soup, but Rei might have gone into town for a bag of rice by this time. Rice, so common here, served at every single meal, had been a luxury at home. I’d have gone foraging for small succulent plants and tiny mushrooms; I seemed to see them in the forest growth so much quicker and easier than my brothers and sisters, and the tiny forest demons seemed to only watch me, instead of attacking, as they did the others.

With a sigh, I dismissed such thoughts; they did not help. I was here now, and had better make the best of it. Learn what I could, become a valuable asset. Work my way into their confidences, get them to lower their guard---and then, I could be gone before they realized it. I realized that it might take months, but I was young, and I could wait; I’d grown up learning patience because of the treatment I’d always received from my elders.

The quickening breeze whirled around the corner of the house, bringing with it the smell of green growing things, and a scent I’d become very familiar with---kitsune. Not Kin’iro; his scent I knew well, and not Ayano---this one was definitely male. I stopped and peered cautiously out from around the corner of the house to see who it might be.

I was right---a male kitsune. The sun shimmered in his blue-black hair, just like my own, falling to the small of his back as did mine. He was very big; as tall as Kyo, but more finely formed, his muscles sleek beneath his pale brown skin, not bulky like Kyo’s. He stood quietly in the sun, his face turned toward it, his eyes closed, and a faint smile on his face, as if he enjoyed the warmth. His tall ears and the long full tail that emerged from the slot in his loose dark green trousers were the blue-grey of smoke. He was beautiful, though not quite in the same way as Kin'iro's more delicate looks; his face was longer, his jaw stronger, his nose more assertive. His mouth was wide and full, the corners curved upward, and looked as if it laughed often. He had big slim hands with graceful fingers, though his nails were as closely clipped as my own, not long and sharp like Kin’iro’s.

As if he realized I stared at him, he turned to look at me, half-hidden behind the corner. His eyes tipped up at the outsides, like mine, like Kin’iro’s, but were a deeper golden-brown than ours. He smiled, and turned smoothly to face me; his movements were like water flowing. He wore many silver bracelets on both wrists, and they tinkled gently, like chimes. Warmth filtered through my body as I watched him move.

“Good afternoon, little brother,” he said in a low, musical voice. “Inari’s blessings to you.”

I blinked. He had called me little brother, and his tone had not been scathing, as it would have been had Kin'iro said the word. This kitsune seemed genuinely friendly, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him, though it was more reserved than his own. He recognized me easily as one of his own blood, and didn’t seem to take exception to my part-kitsune nature, as Kin’iro did.

“Good afternoon,” I replied softly. I ventured out from my hiding place, and offered a small polite bow. His sharp eyes flicked over me, noting the lack of tail, of tall fox ears. If it bothered him, he made no sign.

I wondered who he was. He was not one of Hamanari’s slaves; his clothes were of a fine, dark green material, better than we had, and he had no collar, as any shape-changer Hamanari owned wore. He was older than I was, but it seemed only by two or three years; he still had a slightly unfinished look to him that only youth possessed. I could be wrong, as youthful appearance was a kitsune trait, but I didn’t think I was; although Kin’iro looked scarcely older than this one, he had a mature ~feel~ and his body language was smooth with experience.

“You’re not Ayano, I assume.”

“No, I’m sorry. I am Inochi.”

He smiled again, warmly. “You don’t need to apologize. You seem very nice, Inochi.”

Heat crept up my neck at his complement; it flustered me a little, as I never received them. “Are you Taisoh-san?” I realized as soon as I spoke that it was very presumptuous of me to ask such a question. I was a slave, and had no right to speak to a freeman without permission.

His amber-colored eyes sparkled, though he didn’t laugh. I was grateful for his kindness, small though it was; my manners were still ill formed, and I frequently made mistakes.

“Inari forbid,” he said, his deep voice amused. “I’m his slave, Msaori. I’m here to view Ayano for my Meijin, Taisoh-sama.”

I could feel my eyes widen. “You’re a dorei? But you don’t have a collar....” I trailed off, certain I was saying something offensive in some way. He certainly didn’t carry himself like a slave, with the frequent bowing, the slightly stooped, self-effacing posture I’d seen in most dorei. He stood tall and broad-shouldered, his head high, like a freeman.

“Not all dorei wear collars, little brother.” The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. “Some of us care for our Meijin, and do not wish to leave. And some of our Meijins allow us freedom to be in flesh or fur. Taisoh-sama is one of those.”

I suddenly wished I was going to Taisoh-sama instead of to House Retsujou, but there was nothing to be done about that. I was glad for Ayano and the freedom she’d have.

His amber eyes studied me. “You’ve not been a slave long, have you?”

I could feel heat creep up into my cheeks and knew that I blushed. His gaze was very frank and assessing. I felt as if I’d been turned inside out.

“No. My eldest brother sold me when father died. Not very long ago.”

“I didn’t think so. You don’t have the same look as most dorei. Not yet, anyway. Do you know your next master?”

“I’ve been told it is House Retsujou,” I said, and I felt the heat grow stronger in my face. Though it was not my choice, I still felt judged, somehow, as if he might think I belonged there, or that I went willingly.

Msaori tilted his head and looked carefully at me. He folded his arms across his chest, and I watched, unable to keep myself from doing so, as the muscles rippled beneath his smooth skin, as the sun shone bluely in his black hair. “You do not belong there.”

“I...I do not wish to go there. But I am given no choice in the matter.”

“Perhaps Taisoh-sama would not mind another male slave,” Msaori said slowly, thoughtfully. “He specified a woman, but I might be able to convince him....”

The shoji slid open with a hissing sound, and slammed back in its frame with a loud bang. Soujuro stepped through with a sweep of emerald robes. His pale eyes ran over me, scathing, and I instantly dropped into an obeisance on the cool wooden veranda. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Msaori bow deeply, his long black hair brushing the ground. Soujuro’s robes swept closer to me, fine silk shimmering in the sun slanting against the house.

“You will do no such thing, Dorei,” Soujuro said crisply, clearly displeased. “Do not presume to second-guess your master. “This one,” he said, and kicked me in the ribs with the side of his foot, hard enough to make me grunt, “this one is going to a House. You will receive the woman dorei Ayano, as the contract specified. It is ~not~ your place to attempt to think for your master.”

“Forgive me, Soujuro-san. I defer to your judgement.” Though Msaori bowed subserviently, I could see the flash of his amber eyes; he was far from pleased and far from sorry, but because of his position in life, he dared not object.

“Hn. Kin’iro.” Soujuro looked over his shoulder and made a beckoning motion. I felt the slight tread of Kin’iro’s weight on the veranda; in spite of his weight, he was silent, like a wisp of fog.

“Yes, Soujuro-san?” Though the words were respectful, the tone was not; it made me think of Haruna and her thinly veiled contempt. I ventured a glance up; Kin’iro did not bow but stood tall and arrogant, and I saw the cloud cross Soujuro’s usually serene face.

“Have you brought the dorei Ayano?”

“Yes, Soujuro-san.” Through the veil of eyelashes and hair, I could see Kin’iro reach back into the room behind him, and take Ayano’s slim hand, bringing her out into the light of day. She blinked, then saw Msaori, and smiled. Her ears perked forward, and her tail swayed slowly around her ankles. She dimpled prettily, and her scent rose as she apparently liked very much what she saw.

“You may report to your Meijin that Hamanari-san has fulfilled his part of the contract, and has provided a trained female kitsune dorei. Fair of face, fair of body. Young, but not a virgin, as he didn’t specify that requirement.” I saw the dark look Soujuro gave Kin’iro; their activities were not any secret---could not be, given her noisiness when he covered her. Kin’iro returned the look stonily; Soujuro’s displeasure did not affect him at all. As Hamanari’s favorite, he was safe from Soujuro’s wrath.

“She is indeed very beautiful,” Msaori said, but then his gaze flicked to me a moment, and I had the distinct impression that he found me more to his liking than Ayano. I felt oddly flattered, and strangely pleased. “I am sure that Taisoh-sama will find her quite acceptable.”

“I’m certain he will,” Soujuro said acidly. “Hamanari-san has very good taste.” The grey glance rested on me. “Usually.”

Soujuro’s disapproval rolled off me like water droplets; I was accustomed to it, as his dislike of me had been very obvious since my collaring. I had been able to avoid him since my meeting with him after Kuroda’s whipping, much to my relief. I remained silently on my knees, my gaze on the wooden floor, though Msaori's favorable glance had made me feel wonderfully warm.

“I have heard nothing but the most flattering of words,” Msaori responded, and I wasn’t entirely sure if he were serious, or if it was said tongue in cheek; his tone gave away nothing.

“Hn. Be that as it may, expect delivery tomorrow midmorning.” Soujuro paused to run his slim fingers down Ayano’s smooth, rounded cheek, his hand over her soft blush-colored hair, and a shudder passed over her skin. Unfortunately, I knew his touch well; his hands were cool and as soft as any courtesan’s would be, and the thought of how he’d touched me made me shiver in sympathy. “Tell your Meijin that if he has any further needs, we shall strive to fulfill them.”

“Yes, Soujuro-san. I will convey your message.” Msaori bowed again gracefully, and his amber eyes slid to mine once more, regretfully. Ayano waggled her fingers at him in a goodbye gesture and smiled again. He nodded in return, and with a flip of his full blue-grey tail, he strode away, tall and broad-shouldered. I could not tear my eyes away from him, and the warmth in my cheeks spread slowly down my body to curl low in my belly.

Stopping at the gate, Msaori held out his hand expectantly, and the guard presented him with his short-sword in a lacquered sheath. It didn’t surprise me that he was not allowed to carry it into the compound, but it did surprise me that he had it at all, and handled it as if he were well accustomed to its weight in his hand. He slipped it into the sash around his slim waist, and then was gone without a backward glance.

“Ayano,” Soujuro said, sharply, his eyes still gazing after Msaori, “Attend me.”

Ayano shot Kin’iro a glance that could have been pleading, but then she lowered her head and followed Soujuro meekly. Kin’iro watched impassively, offering nothing, not comfort, not protest.

But I saw the glint of anger in his golden eyes as Soujuro’s hand closed tightly about Ayano’s slim arm. I’d overheard enough from the other slaves, experienced enough myself from Soujuro’s touch to know that any cries I heard from Ayano this afternoon and evening would not be ones of pleasure.

“Shit,” Kin’iro said on a whisper as I rose from my kneeling position. “Fucking mean bastard.”

I rubbed my ribs; it ached where Soujuro had kicked me, and I hadn’t dared move to do it before. “At least she’ll be gone tomorrow,” I said quietly. “Out of his reach.”

“Yes,” Kin’iro said, frowning. “He’s sending her there with his smell upon her, within her. He shouldn’t fuck with Taisoh like that---hells, ~I~ wouldn’t. Not someone with that much power.”

I looked back toward the gate thoughtfully. Had I been full kitsune, I might have looked much like Msaori, save with lighter skin and a slighter build. “He carried a sword,” I said wonderingly. “I didn’t think slaves were allowed weapons.”

“Hn. They're not...but he’s Taisoh’s so no one dares to say anything. It helps that he’s not a prideful son of a bitch, too. Smart enough to keep a civil tongue in his head and a bow ready for everyone.” Kin’iro turned to face me. “Yare, yare. You’ve managed to keep your mouth shut,” he said.

“I am not as foolish as you seem to think I am,” I said slowly. “You said you’d take care of Genichi. That’s all I want.”

Kin’iro’s ear flicked toward the doorway, clearly listening for eavesdroppers. “Soon,” he said shortly. “Soon.”

He spun on his heel and slipped away. I straightened my robes and walked down the veranda to the other side of the house. I heard a squeal of laughter, and saw a flash of white. Genichi had evidently tired of Cook and her kitchen, and had made his way to the garden. He pounced on something in the grass, but it got away from his quick fingers. Another leap, and he caught it. He saw me standing there, and raised his hand in triumph to show me his catch. A small green lizard wriggled in his hand. He waved it at me, then dropped it when it bit him with sharp little teeth. He popped his thumb into his mouth, then laughed again and took off after it once more.

“That’s all I want from you, Kin’iro,” I said softly. “Just that, nothing more.”

Chapter Eleven

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