PROLOGUE
Musashi Province, Japan, 1848
"Akira, no!" Kenji hurried along the riverbank after the other samurai, the lover to whom he'd sworn his heart and soul. From the first moment he'd seen Akira, he'd wanted no one and nothing else. Bushido, the warrior's code and all it entailed, meant nothing to him if he and Akira were to be separated.
The other samurai strode ahead, his topknot of sleek ebony hair bobbing with his movements. Kenji knew Akira was pretending not to hear him. Akira's strides were long and Kenji, a head shorter than the other man, took two steps for his every one.
"Akira, you mustn't marry!"
More silence. The afternoon sun shimmered off the blue silk of Akira's kimono, nearly matching the blazing summer sky. His daisho tapped against his strong thigh with each step. Kenji glanced at the two weapons, the short sword and the knife, in their scabbards corded to Akira's belt.
"I beg you to listen!"
Akira halted, nearly causing Kenji to collide with his tall frame. Kenji watched his friend turn slowly. He wasn't sure what part of his plea had inspired Akira finally to stop, but he didn't care. Akira's impending marriage signaled to Kenji the beginning of the end of his own life.
Akira's large, brown, almond-shaped eyes gazed down at him. His expression, which Kenji had expected to show anger, conveyed only sorrow. "Why must you make this worse than it has to be?" he asked, his voice soft.
Kenji heard his own heartache mirrored in Akira's tone. His heart slammed against his chest. "I'm not the one making it worse," he replied, just as quietly.
Akira squared his broad shoulders, his dark eyes blazing. It was that very indignation that had first made Kenji desire him. Setting his heart and soul on Akira from the first, Kenji had refused to enter into shudo, man-love, with anyone else. He'd pursued Akira, who'd continued to refuse him until Kenji was well past his coming of age. Kenji had been a full-grown man before Akira had accepted him.
The taller man heaved a deep sigh. "Our time of shudo has long since passed, Kenji. The code of bushido dictates that each samurai does his duty. You, too, will marry some day." He reached out a hand, placing it on Kenji's shoulder. The warm strength of Akira's touch heated his skin right through the silk of his kimono. "You know we are sworn friends until the day we die. This change will not affect that."
Kenji pushed back tears. Akira might as well have pulled his wakizashi from its scabbard and run it through his lover's heart, for his words were every bit as cutting. Didn't Akira realize the crime he was committing? "How many times you have told me you never wished what we have to end, Akira! And now you do that very thing!"
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