He reclined back, plucking a grape from the stem and bit into it, all the while his dark eyes were examining her. Yuki already felt naked, and exposed, but did not know what to do. She had never been alone in Ishihara before, or alone with any man for that matter. She had often bristled against her father’s strict rules, but now that it had come to this, she would have wished herself back in a heartbeat.

At last Tora’s heir spoke. “Are you going to come in?” his voice was firm, but it was not altogether a command.

Yuki nodded and proceeded forward. Each step felt as if she were wading through a thick bog. While she felt the weight of his gaze upon her, she could barely hold her eyes up to see where she was going. When she reached the far end of the table, she slowly lowered herself to her knees. She held her shamisen so tightly that she feared that it would snap in her hands.

The young prince tossed the rest of the grape into his mouth, but his eyes were still on her. He leaned forward as if to study her every detail. He appeared to be searching for something, for his dark eyes moved with quick precision.

“You really are quite lovely,” he finally said, after a long pause. “By your looks alone I should find great satisfaction in your arms tonight.”

His words spilled from his mouth in a low seductive rumble. Yuki gulped. She was frozen with trepidation.

“But, my dear, I am afraid that it is no use. For I am in love with another…” With that, he suddenly leaned back and tossed another grape into his mouth. His gaze now fell away from her, and he seemed to be lost in thought once again.

At this Yuki could not help but say, “Excuse me?”

He shot her a look of annoyance. “Do you forget yourself? You are in the presence of a daimyō’s heir.”

“My lord…” Yuki said, recovering quickly.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” said the young Tora, rising to his feet languidly. “But I won't be able to do this tonight, nor any night, not at least until I have the object of my desire or perish from heartache.” His words were tinged with tangible sorrow.

Yuki was stunned. “Is he playing with me?” she wondered. She must have looked quite shocked, as he frowned at her.

“I guess this will be an embarrassment to you, especially after my father broke the rules and had you brought here for me. Well, the old fool never listens to me. And why should he? He is the Old Tiger, after all, one of the greatest generals who has ever lived. He is a hero and a legend in his own right. Why should he pay any attention to his worthless heir?”

He swirled around and paced a few steps, before sitting back down abruptly.

Yuki was still immensely confused but decided to go along with it. “My lord,” she ventured, forcing her voice out of her mouth. “You are not worthless.”

“And how would you know that?” he snapped back. “I have never won a battle, and I have never slain a Dragon. I am a Tiger, yet the Buta was right. I have no teeth! I cannot even win over the woman I love.”

“Well, perhaps I can help,” Yuki offered. She knew that there had to be a punishment for being dismissed too early, so she had to think of something to pass a little bit of time at least.

The young Tora looked at her suspiciously. “And how would you do that?’

“I am a lady,” she answered cautiously. “I might be able to give you some…insight.”

Her words seemed to cross before his eyes as she said them, and after a moment or so he nodded, allowing her to continue.

“Please, tell me about her, I mean, this woman,” she asked, trying to remain confident.

Tora seemed to redden, and his voice spilled out like a shout. “I cannot tell you her name!”

Yuki was at first taken aback but then strengthened her resolve. “That is all right. I did not mean that kind of thing anyway. Tell me how you met. Tell me what she is like. Tell me why you love her.”

His eyebrows furrowed a bit as his face took on a contemplative visage. Now that Yuki was not under immediate scrutiny, she was finally able to inspect this man for herself. He was quite young, maybe only a few years older than she was. He was remarkably handsome, as she had remembered from the previous night. He was well built, freshly groomed, and stately, all the marks of nobility sat upon him though he was like a flower not yet in bloom. He seemed to radiate the prestige of his lineage, a son in a long line of great warriors. Yet there was an air of inexperience about him, a lack of confidence that should be inherent with such esteemed parentage. The best way she could describe him was like a new and polished bronze shield. It was indeed beautiful to the eyes, but it lacked the marring and divots of the trusty battle shield, which had survived a hard-fought war.

After a few moments of reflection, the young Tora spoke. “How can I describe such beauty?” he began. “She is like the moon and the stars and the sea and the mountains and everything all in one and somehow more than that.”

Yuki was not impressed by this poor attempt at poetry. “I did not ask you what she looked like. I want to know what it is about her that makes her so irresistible to you. Surely there are plenty of women who are so beautiful that they can make a man see moons and stars and all that. Why is she the one above all others? What does she have that no one else has?”

Tora looked wounded by her rebuke but then went back to thinking. “Well,” he said, this time not so confident. “What I love about her is the way she makes me feel. I feel a bit giddy when I am with her. When we are together, I do not feel so, well, pressed down by the weight of the world. I feel lifted up, almost weightless. And she, well, she can make me laugh. Not with wit or with bawdy humor like many of your sisters do, pardon my saying so.”

“No offense taken,” Yuki said, a smile edging her face. He seemed to be really doing his best, and she had never heard a man articulate such a thing in her presence before. She could not help but find it amusing.

“She can make me laugh with just a look,” Tora continued. “And most importantly, we seem to understand one another, though we have very different backgrounds.” He then looked at Yuki, and when he saw her smiling, he became indignant.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” he raged, his face turning a deeper shade of red.

“No, of course not!” she cried, but it was too late, the damage was already done.

“I have said my piece!” he said, crossing his arms. “Now where is your sage advice?”

Yuki chuckled to herself nervously. She could not believe she was in this position, but she did not want to make light of the danger here. This was a daimyō’s son after all. She did not want to leave him in this poor state.

“Ahem,” she began. “It’s clear to me that you might be in love. Love, I think, has many important distinctions from mere infatuation. Infatuation can come and go and can lead to many grievous errors. Well, I am sure you have heard several examples in tales, probably before you were old enough to swing a sword.”

Tora nodded. He was following her for the time being.

“This woman, does she feel the same way?”

“I believe so,” he said. “I believe that she does feel the same way, but she cannot fully express it.”

“And why can't she, my lord?”

“I simply cannot tell you that,” Tora stated emphatically, darkening again. “But I can say that whenever we are together, it is only brief, and when our conversation stalls, she becomes uneasy and leaves suddenly.”

Yuki was at a loss and was growing increasingly weary of this game. “How often do you see her then?”

“Now and again. But my father is always stalking around, and he would be enraged if he knew what I was doing.”

“So, she must be a commoner,” Yuki reasoned. “Or a married woman. Either way, she has to be forbidden fruit.” This seemed to trigger something in her mind. “Do you know the story of Miya-hime?” she asked.

Tora wrinkled his face, as he often did when he was thinking hard. “No, I cannot say that I have.”

Yuki was surprised, for it was one of her favorite tales. She had learned it in her time with the Truists and often sang it to her father. She could almost do the entire thing by memory, which was quite a feat for the whole poem was exceedingly long. Yet the rhyme pattern was simple, and since it was among her favorites, each line left a deep impression on her mind.

“I will play you a piece of it,” she said, preparing the shamisen in her hands. “I think it might help you.” She took a moment to tune the strings, plucked a note to make sure she was in the right key and then began to play.

Stolen story; please report.

Long, long, ago as stories say,

Back in the Shining Prince’s day,

There lived a maiden pure and strong,

But did to common birth belong.

Her father called her Miya-chan,

Her mother loved her but had gone,

Taken by the pestilence,

The Abomination’s recompense.

She dwelt aside the bending river,

High up on the mountainside,

Her father, grieving, took to drinking,

The honest daughter left alone to provide.

She tilled the fields, she pulled the roots,

She sold her produce at the booths,

And every starry night would pray,

For someone to come and take her away.

One night she traveled to the springs,

To wash her weary self alone,

While out from the forest came Himoto,

Knight of the Midlands, the Prince’s own.

She saw him approach from across the glade,

And marveled at his handsome face,

But as he turned his eyes upon her,

She quailed under his stormy gaze.

Her eyes were sharp, her feet were nimble,

And her legs were ever swift and sure,

She fled from the knight who could not find her,

Though he sought her evermore.

There in the village, the rumor spread,

Of a knight of the Emperor on the road,

Calling brave men to come and aid him,

For upon a perilous quest he would go.

When Miya heard of Himoto’s summons,

She took her father’s gear and arms,

She sheared her hair, and darkened her features,

She secretly left her father and farm.

She met the knight upon the road,

No other soul had answered the call,

For he was going towards the mountain,

To face the evils within the black halls.

For he had entered the Empress’s quarters,

And being discovered by a secret guard,

Himoto was cast out from the palace,

Dishonored before all men and gods.

Then he saw the transformed Miya,

He took her for a common lad,

She bowed her head and knelt before him,

And in her lowest voice, she said,

“I am not worthy to fight beside you,

I have little skill with sword or bow,

But if you take me as your squire,

I will follow you even to hell below.”

“Come with me, valiant squire,

I will show you a thing or two of swords,

And if by great deeds we return to the palace,

Even greater shall be your reward.”

Yuki paused abruptly. “Well, the entire story is quite long you know. I do not think I could get through it all in one sitting. But as you may guess, Miya-chan went on many great adventures with Himoto, and they fast became great partners. He did not discover that she was a woman, although they had many comical close calls. Yet their story does not end very happily.” She began to play once again, though this time struck a minor chord.

Deep within the ageless forest,

Under the heavy and twisting bough,

The pair fell upon an ancient evil,

A shade of Shinjin’s greatest foe.

Despite their courage and their skill,

Their past triumphs, might, and will,

They could not prevail against the fiend,

Who knew them both and said to she,

“I know thou Miya-kun, filled with lies,

Who appears as a man to mortal eyes,

But there beneath thy shining mail,

A woman’s heart so prone to fail.”

“It cannot be!” cried Himoto,

Who charged his foe with sharpened blade,

But an errant stroke put him forward,

Beneath the monster’s vile gaze.

A wicked claw stretched out against him,

And would have crushed his plate and bone,

If not for valiant Miya’s leap,

She bore the strike upon her breast alone.

Himoto recovered and with a flash,

Severed the black and tainted arm,

‘Till the enemy full retreated,

And left them alone without other harm.

But Miya lay still and deathly wounded,

And Himoto gathered her to his embrace,

At that moment he knew the truth,

For he could sense it in her softened face.

“Miya-chan,” he said at last,

And kissed her upon her peerless brow,

“I loved you from the day I met you,

Though I never knew it until now.”

When Yukiana had finished, she looked up at the young Tora. She had become so captivated by the story and the music that she must have closed her eyes towards the end. But he was staring at her intently, seeming to hang on to her every word. When he finally realized that she had finished, he clapped his hands and smiled.

“Exquisite!” he complimented. “All these years and I never knew the true origins of the Ministers of the Right. For it must have been after this event that Himoto changed his name to Miyamoto, the founder of the infamous clan. Do you know other stories like this?”

“Of course,” she said putting her shamisen down at her side. “I learned quite a few in my time with the Truists, and even more when I lived in Minami-shima with my father. “

“How fascinating!” he exclaimed, continuing to feast on her words.

Yuki smiled, glad that he was genuinely interested in lore. “The Miyamoto quickly became a great house that served the Emperor for many hundreds of years.”

“It is quite sad then, that they, born from the faithful and brave, turned cowards and brought upon the demise of the very Emperors they claimed to serve,” grumbled Tora, his face showing signs of derision.

“I am not so sure,” Yuki interjected cautiously, “The histories of that time are quite limited. We do not really know what happened for certain. At least that's what the old Truist abbot told me. All we know was that towards the end, House Miyamoto and House Kirin backed a different heir to the throne, and House Kirin won the war that followed. The Miyamoto were hunted and nearly destroyed, but during that time, so was the line of the Emperor. We may never know what hand the Kirin played in it all. They became the First Shōguns, and they wrote the histories for hundreds of years. Perhaps that is why you never heard this story. Those tales that edified the Miyamoto were not likely to be popular in the Yoshimitsu court, which came after the Kirin. The Truists, on the other hand, do their best to explore all sides.”

Tora nodded his head, agreeing with her reasoning but she could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. “You did say that your story may help me in my situation, but I still do not see how. Explain yourself.”

“Well,” she began, “To be honest, I personally do not have much experience with love. But if I were in love, I would want it to be like the way Miya loved Himoto. She never left his side, not even until the very end. She did not care about status or rules. She was lowborn, he was high. She was at first weak, and he was strong. So, I think that if I were you, I would not worry so much about what your father has to say. If it is true love, nothing can stop it. And she may see your faithfulness and be won over in the end.”

The young Tora sat back, mulling over her words. At length, he leaned forward and smiled. “It’s a dangerous thing to ask of the heir of a great clan, but I believe you are right. I should not let the fear of my father stop me from expressing my love. That is not the way of a Tiger. Soon he will be gone, off to fight the barbarians, and I shall return to my people to lead in his stead. My time left with her is short. We have to win her over, and I think I know how!”

Yukiana was surprised at this sudden turn of events but felt a bit uneasy for he had used the words ‘our’ and ‘we.’

“How?” she asked nervously.

“Well, it just so happens that my love enjoys a good tale. I have tried to woo her with rhyme and meter before, but I have only told her tales that she already knows and afterward there is nothing to discuss. So, you will instruct me in the full tale of Miya-hime, and I will then relay it to her. Like myself, I do not think she is familiar with it. And if you have any other stories you learned from the Truists, you will teach me those as well. Through the power of song and verse, I shall win her! I know it can be done!”

Yuki moved to protest. “My lord, I hate to sour your plans, but we have not the time to learn the entire thing in one night, even if we stayed up until the morning.”

The daimyō’s heir furrowed his eyebrows and then let loose a howling laugh. “Of course not!” he exclaimed. Then he directed his fierce eyes back onto her. “I have a proposition in mind that we can both benefit from, if you care to hear it.”

She could not help but be interested. “Speak, my lord.”

“You shall come to visit me every night. Well, every night when I am not needed for important affairs. During that time, you shall teach me all you have learned from the Truists and whatever else might be useful. In the morning or afternoon, whenever I can steal a meeting with my love, I will reveal to her what we have practiced. Oh, I can see it now! She won't be able to wait to hear the next iteration, and so her desire for me will grow.”

Yukiana was unsure that this tactic would really work but was not about to say anything to spoil his good humor.

“Your nightly meeting with me will also bring about a few other benefits,” he continued. “It will keep my clever father off my trail and confuse any of his spies he will undoubtedly leave in his absence. He will be left to think that I have taken pleasure in his gift and will probably be immensely proud of himself. And for you, my dear, you will have the benefit of a daimyō’s income filling your employer’s coffers, and such a thing can bring immense benefits I hear. You will not have to worry about satisfying the tasteless rabble who make a stench of this fair district. You will be mine and only mine. Yet not mine at all, not in the physical sense of the word.”

He smiled, and his prominent canines flashed before her. “He is a tiger indeed,” she thought. She was, of course, quite pleased with this arrangement. It kept her out of the brothels, allowed her to maintain her purity, and at the same time exceeded the demands made by the district. But a part of her felt subtly disappointed that this man had no interest in her other than for her stories. She knew it was a crazy thing to think, especially after the fright she had experienced before meeting him, but it made her a bit self-conscious. Yet she could not let it show.

“I am inclined to accept your proposal,” she said after a brief pause. “But what happens when you leave? Am I to be thrown to the rabble once again?”

At this, Tora grinned even wider and his eyes flashed. “Ho! Ho! A daring little creature,” he chuckled. “You could be my sister I think, for you have the mind of a Tiger. How about this, if I can woo my love, and win her over before the time comes when I must return to my lands, then I will buy your contract, and you can come live in my house as a servant of high esteem.”

This seemed too good to be true, but he was a daimyō’s heir and did truly wield this kind of life-changing power and wealth. Once free from Ishihara, her chances of reuniting with her father were much higher, and she wondered if she then could negotiate a way to return to him later on. “One thing at a time,” she told herself.

“Agreed,” she finally said with a low bow, masking a smile. “I will make you into a poet, then a bard, and in the end, a lover.”

“That is what I like to hear!” he cried, standing once again. “Yuki-san, please, no longer call me by my formal title, but call me Sōichirō. For now, we are no longer strangers, but partners, and our mission is love.”