Rikiya observed the girl for a moment longer before his gaze shifted back to his son, patting him on the shoulder once again. “Well, an unexpected reward but I’m sure she’ll have her uses. She’s certainly beautiful and in time will no doubt make a fine wife. Go, tend to your wounds and rest up my son. You deserve it that is for certain and I’m sure you can think of something this pretty little thing can do for you.” A faint chuckle passed from the older looking man, dismissing Sakura’s presence as nothing more than a means to entertain his son and certainly no threat to him or his rebellion.

Father and son bowed in respect before Rikiya retreated into the building he had emerged from not long ago, leaving husband and wife standing awkwardly in the cool night air. Tadao released a long sigh, a slight frown upon his brow as he turned his head to glance at Sakura. “Come,” the command was softer this time, more of an invitation than a demand, though where else did she really have to go.

Turning, the raven-haired male led her across the clearing and to a building that appeared smaller than the rest. Stepping up onto a roofed deck that ran along the front, Tadao carefully slipped his feet from his sandals, lining them up neatly to the left-hand side of the door. He paused to draw the kantana from his belt and placed it upon the stand that stood just inside the open screen door, the shorter blade still tucked within the sash that encircled his waist.

Once Sakura had followed him inside Tadao carefully slid the screen door closed before gesturing around the room they currently stood in. “This will be your home for as long as we remain here. Feel free to look around…” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering upon her as she took in her surroundings but was quickly averted when she glanced in his direction.

There was an awkwardness that surrounded his movements, suggesting that he felt just as uncomfortable with the situation as she did. Whether this was the case or not, Tadao was doing his best to appear masterful and in control, he would not appear weak before this female nor anyone else for that matter.

Turning away from Sakura, the samurai moved across the room to lower himself onto a rush mat positioned beside a low table upon which stood a bowl of water, a small pot containing a strange looking paste and several bandages. Focusing his attention upon his wounds, Tadao carefully eased his arms from the sleeves of both the inner and outer layers of his kimono, the fabric falling around his waist, held in place by the sash.

The warm glow of the candles that lit the room fell upon the rebel’s toned torso, broad shoulders leading down to well defined arms, the muscles flexing and loosening beneath his smooth skin as he went about cleaning the gash in his left arm. Fine strands of dark hair slid forward to conceal his face, the tie that had once held it back having slackened to the point of uselessness. “Your name, what is it?” Tadao asked suddenly, lifting his head as his arresting brown eyes travelled across the room to fix upon her.


[[I'm glad you are enjoying my posts! I must say it helps when i have a great posts to work from!]]

Tadao stood still and solemn before Lord Izumi, neither the cheering crowd nor the host's obvious delight at his success seemed to move the young man beyond anything more than a faint nod of thanks. His eyes dropped to the chest, following it's progression out of the tent and to his feet - he had achieved what he had set out to and he would take his winnings and retreated before his good fortune ran dry. But even as the young man began to lower himself in a low bow, the wrinkled Lord spoke again, pronouncing a second reward for his success.

Snapping upright, Tadao spared only a single glance at Sakura before he stepped forward, lips parted to protest only to find that Lord Izumi had already moved away from him, disappearing inside. As the girl spoke the young warrior turned and inspected her for a moment, clearly at a loss as to what to do with her. The crowds had begun to disperse but two men stepped from the mass of people to stand beside the young samurai, speaking in hushed tones. "This was not part of the plan - what are we to do with her?"

Tadao shook his head faintly, eyes narrowing as he extended a hand to firmly but gently grasp Sakura's chin, tilting her head up so that he could look upon her face. "Nothing, I will deal with her. Kiyo you brought a horse did you not..." One of the men nodded once, gesturing toward the outskirts of where the tournament had been held, "Good. Take the chest to where my father is waiting, I shall meet you there." The two men bowed respectfully to Tadao, despite the clear age difference between them, turning to lift the chest with a grunt and disappearing into the crowd.

"Come." The single worded command was said sharply as he released Sakura's chin from his grasp only to take hold of her arm, steering her swiftly through the crowd. She was led to where a black stallion stood calmly nibbling upon the sweet blades of grass beneath its feet. Tadao's hands slipped to her waist as he hoisted her up and onto the back of the horse which stood obediently for his master to climb up as well.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he held her firmly in place as he grasped the reigns with his free hand, steering them away from the crowds. With a firm squeeze to the stallion's flanks they galloped from Lord Izumi's estate, hooves thundering upon the ground as Sakura was carried from her home. Tadao said nothing to her for the entire journey, though they were sitting so close together that she would no doubt feel his warm breath against her neck while his arm remained constantly encircling her.

Trees soon rose up around them, a maze of trails which twisted between old gnarled trees spread before them but the solemn male seemed to know exactly where they were going. Not once did he hesitate, steering them through the wide expanses of wood, beneath low overhanging branches and across lush clearings. How long they rode was difficult to measure, and the forest seemed to close in behind them making it near impossible to pinpoint from which direction they had come nor how one would ever make their way back out into the unhindered sunshine.

Finally the stallion broke through the trees and cantered to a stop within a large clearing, the night sky providing Sakura with some indication as to how long they had travelled for. Several buildings stood beneath the lengthening shadows of the high canopies, figures moving to and fro as they carried out the evening tasks. Tadao dismounted swiftly, extending a disinterested hand toward her in order to aid her down from the horse's back as his eyes scanned the sheltered front deck of the closest building.

A few moments later a man stepped out into the moonlight, a wide smile across his lips as he strode with purpose toward his son. He grasped Tadao by the arms before drawing him into a surprisingly tight embrace which lasted no more than a few moments, yet communicated to all nearby the old man's pride. "Truly I have been blessed, what father could ask for a better son!" Clapping his son firmly upon the shoulder, his gaze slipped past the young male to fix Sakura with an intent stare, the smile quickly fading.

Dark, piercing eyes narrowed as they took in her features suddenly looking every bit as old and worn as he felt. A scar ran diagonally across his left cheek, cutting across the corner of his left eye and past his mouth. His kimono was made of silk coloured the deepest black that Sakura probably would have ever seen and embroidered down the front - the form of a golden dragon, jaw wide and teeth bared.

There was little doubt who stood before her - Rikiya, the feared and hated leader of the rebellion

Tadao drew in a deep breath as he lifted a folded deep green sash from the nearby table, carefully allowing it to unravel before wrapping it around his waist several times. The young man adjusted his kimono, making sure that the obi held both the outer and inner layers neatly in place before fastening it securely. Bare toes curled against the rush mat beneath his feet as he raised his hands to carefully pull back his long raven hair.

The screen door to his room slid open and then closed again, permitting entrance to a worn looking man in traditional black samurai dress. “Father,” Tadao greeted quietly, securing his hair out of his face with a simple black tie before turning and dropping his hands to his side as he bent at the waist in a low and prolonged bow. The older man returned the bow but for a shorter period of time before both straightened and he extended a hand to grip his son’s shoulders.

Rikiya looked over the young warrior before him, swelling with pride at the strong man that his son had become. It had been with a heavy heart that he had agreed to lead the rebellion while still grieving the death of his beloved wife, and though he had no regrets about that decision it had come at a heavy price. Tadao’s older brother had been killed five months previous and since that day Rikiya’s youngest son, and now only son, had grown serious and solemn.

“You will make me proud Tadao, whether you win or lose today.” The young male shook his head, a frown furrowing his brow as he lowered his head, “No father, I will win this tournament. I will bring honour to our family in being named champion and the money will aid our cause.” Rikiya sighed deeply as his hands slid down to adjust the sash around his son’s waist before nodding firmly.

“I dare not show my face at the tournament for fear I might be recognised, but I will be watching. Peace and honour, my son.” Tadao turned to the simple stand that supported his daisho within their black sheathes, a matching golden dragon painted down both lengths. Lifting them from the stand, he tucked both into his sash before turning and making his way out into the sunshine.

~~~~

Tadao moved with ease through the crowds, eyes narrowed against the sun’s harsh light as he sized up his competition. No one appeared to recognise him, but this didn’t surprise the young man – his face and name was relatively unknown as his father had kept him separate from the rebel cause, at least until his older brother’s death. He presented himself before Lord Izumi, bowing low in forced respect before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joining the throng of people, Tadao watched in silence was the competitors were separated into two groups, one from each paired against each other. The tournament would work as a simple knock-out, with the competitor winning if their opponent surrendered or was unable to fight any longer. As was no surprise – neither to him or the rebels that watched, concealed within the crowds – Rikiya’s son progressed swiftly through the rounds, dispatching his opponents with relative ease.

Finally it came down to Tadao and the final challenger, the two summoned to an area of ground that had been cleared before the host of the tournament – Lord Izumi. Both competitors looked worn as they positioned themselves before Sakura’s father, bowing first to him before turning to bow to each other. Expression set in grim determination, Tadao glanced toward the sky as he took his position, sandaled feet shifting against the ground as his right hand moved to grasp the handle of his kantana.

The two men clashed, metal against metal as their curved blades flashed and sliced through the air, the loose fabric of their kimono’s billowing in the breeze. Both men, determined to win, threw every last ounce of their energy at the other with murderous intent – each wished to win no matter what price the other would have to pay. For the majority of the fight it appeared that Tadao was outmatched and over-powered, receiving several rather deep gashes to his left upper arm and right side, the older opponent constantly on the offensive while the rebel was forced to defend.

But Rikiya’s son was not at all disheartened by this; in fact he used his opponent’s growing confidence to his advantage. A particularly brutal blow had sent Tadao stumbling backward as he raised his kantana to defend his right side. Blade against blade, it appeared that neither man was willing to draw back their sword first and the rebel took his chance. Suddenly pitching forward a flash of metal in the fading sunlight drew the crowd’s attention to Tadao’s wakizashi. In the fight to keep their swords locked together the young male had swiftly drawn and thrust the short blade into his opponent’s side in one fluid movement.

For a moment both competitors seemed to freeze in place, before Tadao twisted to his left, withdrawing his wakizashi and pushing forward with his kantana, driving his opponent backward. The larger man stumbled before falling to the ground, hand clasping to his side in an attempt to stem the blood flow as he signalled his surrender. Tadao inclined his head once to his defeated foe, swiftly cleaning the blood from his blades with a cloth which hung from his sash before returning them to their sheathes.

The rebel son had won.


[[Just so you know Dashio refers to the wearing of both a kantana (long sword) and the wakizashi (basically a small version of a kantana). Don’t worry, I am by no means an expert, I just did a little reading before writing up my post.]]