Rōnin

Up in the main keep of the great underground city, Luna paced along the balcony of her chambers. The balcony, and her chambers, weren’t very elaborate. The balcony upon which she expressed her frustration through the movement of feet across carved stone. The balcony was circular and roomy but not large, the railing was of carved stone (just like every other structure in the city) and the supports of it were simple pillar like constructs of circular design. The railing was about waist height for her, maybe a bit higher, and carved smooth.

HEr chambers weren’t too lavish. She had a simple but large bed set against the wall to the right of the door, set directly across from the balcony. On the other side of the bed was a dresser with tree items of clothing in it. One was a formal dress for occasion that almost never came along, and which she hated anyway. The second item of clothing was what would be worn beneath her armor (Samurai armor), meaning a pair of loose pants that would tuck into the greaves and two overcloths, jacket like wraparound shirts that tied at the hip, starting with the shitagi. The shitagi was an ankle length undershirt that would usually go over only the undergarments.

The third item of clothing was her everyday attire, a simple V-neck dress that resembled the shitagi in many ways. Other than that she only had her armor, which was on a stand in the far corner of the room along with her daisho and naginata.

She paced back and forth across the stone surface of her balcony and the thoughts that plagued her would not let up. Certain thoughts she wasn’t sure she wanted, but not entirely unwanted either. She continued to think and pace until voices reached her ears. She approached the railing and looked down into the gardens to see Akira and one of his trainees having a... heated discussion.

She couldn’t hear anything clearly, but they were clearly disagreeing. She leaned in further and tried to make out their words, no success. She just watched for a time, trying to keep her previous thoughts from coming back. After a time she lost interest in what was happening below and her mind betrayed her to defect to the previous thoughts. Her mind was filled with images of Akira up close, sometimes with armor, but mostly without, and sometimes with a weapon in hand, usually something else entirely. Often she saw him bare-chested, and could vividly picture his sculpted and hardened muscles, and she could only imagine how firm they would feel. Her heat wasn’t helping these thoughts leave.

After a few minutes it looked like Akira had finally been silenced, which grabbed her attention. She watched as Akira was no longer speaking and instead seemed to think. After another minute Akira nodded to his trainee and dismissed him. Then he appeared to breathe deeply, then began walking towards the castle. Odd.

Luna walked into her room and began to disrobe. Once she was only in her underwear she laid in her bed and tried to get sleep, only her mind wouldn’t let her. Images continued to creep into her mind despite her wishes, or at least her conscious wishes, of increasingly kinkier things involving a certain samurai. She couldn’t stop picturing things that made her grow red in the cheeks, and wet in a place lower. It wasn’t too long before her hand found her way down there to scratch the itch. She was almost disappointed when there was a knock on the door.

She managed to lower the heat level in her face and put a bathrobe on before she answered, and her blush threatened to blow up again when she found Akira waiting outside her door. In his hand was a piece of paper, she guessed it was the subject of his previous conversation. He bowed respectfully and handed her the paper, then he left her there.

She didn’t quite know how to react, but after a minute she closed the door, took off her bathrobe and began to read. The first time she read through she could hardly believe it, so she read again, same thing. She sat on her bedside, tears flowing from her eyes, and her heart bursting with immeasurable joy.

He did share her feelings, and she could not be happier about it. She kept rereading the poem he had written for the next ten minutes, the words effect on her endured. Her joy never dissipated, and she couldn’t stop even more perverted thoughts from going through her head, stupid heat. She laid down and tried to sleep.

Akira sat beneath the same cherry tree he had the previous day. His mind was irked beyond anything he had experienced before, none of the twenty three meditation techniques his zen master had taught him worked, not for this. His mind kept returning to the events of the previous evening.

What was I thinking!? his mind shouted. You did your duty, you gave her the poem as you were expected to. But who am I to give her such a thing!? Your own student explained this last night, you are a samurai, you had every right, if not obligation, to give it to her.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice the mare walk up behind him, kneel down next to him and wait to catch his attention. It took a second but he looked up at her soon enough. She was smiling at him, practically glowing.

“When you gave that poem to me, I wondered why you would choose me out of all the mares you have met. Then I realized that why isn’t as important the fact that you did. You don’t know how truly happy that made me Akira,” She says, tears building in her eyes. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t hold back the smile that came to his face. She pulled him into a hug, they leaned against the trunk of the cherry tree, in the branches of which a late flower bloomed, a perfect blossom.