It was very late, the orange shimmer of the lamp illuminated the small windowless room, and I was lying on the bed, pleasantly tired, drifting off to sleep. Beside me, Shira was lazily running his fingers up and down my naked back. I felt relaxed, content and, despite our uncertain future, even happy.
If only I could stop time and make this moment last forever.
What had we been doing all day? We ate, talked a bit and I had to change Shira's bandage twice.
And for the rest of the day, we couldn't tear ourselves away from each other.
As expected, our wild activities caused the wound on his leg to reopen and start bleeding. It wasn't a big deal, but I felt guilty and angry that Shira was taking it so lightly. But every time I said something to him, he just waved his hand over it, kissed me and then... it got pretty wild.
I smiled at the thought. The whole thing seemed surreal. If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd end up in bed with a man with a passion for deadly weapons, I'd probably have sent him to a shrink.
Shira slowly rolled over onto his side and, for a change, began to fiddle with my hair, still damp from the shower.
Shower.
That was another memory I had to grin at. And if there was any shame left in me after everything we'd done together today, I might even blush. Instead, a spark of excitement ran through my body as I vividly remembered what Shira could do with his mouth.
I turned my head, which had been resting on my folded hands, and looked at my black-haired lover.
"What are you thinking about?" he broke the silence.
"How is it possible that I'm lying here in bed with a man, and the Emperor's right-hand man at that," I grinned, resisting the urge to touch him.
An amused smile crossed Shira's face, "And what bothers you more? That you slept with a man or that you committed treason?"
"I will gladly be court-martialled for this treason," I leaned towards him, and this time I had to touch him. I gently brought our lips together in a lazy, slow kiss.
I felt so good in his arms, never imagining it would be so perfect between us. Because Shira was so perfect and I was falling more and more in love with him with each passing minute.
"You're nothing like I expected."
"What did you expect?" He asked, looking at me with interest in his eyes.
I had no idea what to say without offending him. But Shira had to know what everyone here was thinking of him. What I thought, too, before I got to know him better. A cruel, ruthless man who revels in killing. A sadistic cutthroat, not to be messed with.
"The soldiers here are all afraid of you, they think you're a brutal maniac with a katana," I finally spoke. "Even the prison guards were afraid of you, even when you were chained up. Everyone here thinks you let me live just to..." I couldn't finish.
"To do what?" Shira raised an eyebrow in question. "Throw you on the bed and rape you?"
"Well... yes," I finished, hoping I hadn't offended him. Especially since I knew how far from the truth that was.
"I see," he pressed his lips together, but didn't seem insulted.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close to me.
"I know you're not like that."
"What am I like?"
I brushed the black strands from his face, looked into his stunning eyes and ran my thumb over his lower lip.
"You're... amazing," I let out without thinking.
He smiled and gave me a quick kiss on the nose.
"Not many people would agree with you."
"Because they don't know you like I do."
Perhaps no one knew him like I did. He must have trusted me a great deal to let me get so close to him. Maybe he didn't want to, he just couldn't resist the force, fate or chance, that had tangled our lives so tightly together.
I studied Shira's face, the familiar lines, the curve of his mouth, the blue-grey eyes. Only one little flaw marred those beautiful, symmetrical features. My fingers touched a small scar.
"Where did you get that?"
I'd asked him about it once before, in prison. He'd avoided answering then. This time he hesitated too, his hand touching the spot above the right eyebrow.
There was a silence for a while.
I didn't expect him to answer, knowing how much he hated sharing personal information about himself.
"I got this scar from my father," he said finally.
"You weren't quick enough?" I repeated the words he had used that day in the cell.
"Exactly," a brief smile broke his suddenly serious expression.
"My father trained me in combat, wanting to pass on everything he knew to his son. He lectured on strategy, history, different tactics in battle. He was a great teacher, but very strict. As a former soldier, he demanded absolute discipline and obedience," Shira sighed, rolling onto his back. "And for a small boy it was sometimes too much."
I was surprised, he never talked about himself.
"Who was your father?" I tried my luck and inquired further.
I half expected the moment of sharing to be over and I would get nothing more from him.
Shira didn't move, just lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"You may have heard of him. His name was Izumi Rei."
I couldn't hide my shock. I knew that name. Of course, I knew it. Everyone knew it.
Izumi Rei was a famous military leader. He was said to be an excellent warrior, a brilliant strategist and a feared enemy. He was also a personal friend of the old Emperor. Until he fell out of favour. No one could say exactly what happened, but there were rumours that it had something to do with a girl.
"Izumi Rei," I repeated the name with awe in my voice.
I glanced at Shira, searching his face for any resemblance to the man whose image I knew from books and battle footage.
"What happened with him?"
"My father loved one of the Emperor's girls. They had an affair and they were found out. The woman, my mother, was the Emperor's favourite. The lord was furious and ordered them both executed. They managed to escape, but my father lost everything. My parents had to hide for a long time. Only when the old Emperor died did the search end."
The fact that he told me this only confirmed my impression of how much he trusted me. The Emperor himself probably had no idea whose son was killing for him.
I'd already guessed that Shira must come from one of the old island families. If nothing else, the deadly heirloom that now lay innocently in its polished sheath beside the bed was proof enough.
My family also belonged to the privileged ones, and I myself had the 'right lineage' to follow in the footsteps of my father, an Imperial officer who died heroically defending our country. But I disgraced his memory and joined the enemy.
At least that was what my mother told me before she kicked me out of the house six years ago. I had not seen her or my sister since.
I leaned over Shira's face. His eyes were closed, but as soon as I brushed my lips against his cheek, he tangled his fingers through my hair and pulled me close.
"What's your real name?" I whispered the question that interested me most.
"Oh, come on, Taira."
It was funny how he suddenly became nervous. If I had threatened to kill him with a knife, it wouldn't have unnerved him as much as this innocent question.
"Please," I kissed him briefly on the mouth, then on the nose, on the cheek... "Please, Shira, tell me."
I probably shouldn't have insisted, but I enjoyed making him uncomfortable. And I wanted to know, too.
He sat up and shook me off. He stared into my eyes for a moment, hesitating whether to say it or not. And I waited eagerly to see what he would do.
"Yoshi," he said, and I had to smile at that name. It didn't suit him at all. "Yoshiro Rei."
"Yoshi," I repeated, rolling the word around on my tongue. "That's... cute."
Even when he gave me his patented death stare, I couldn't stop smiling. I could clearly see that he already regretted telling me.
Frowning at my amused expression, he suddenly looked more like an unhappy little boy called Yoshi than the feared assassin Shira.
And if my heart wasn't already his, I'd fall in love with him all over again.
~~~
I was startled from my sleep by the excited voices of Shira and Ayako, arguing loudly.
The old woman was shouting so angrily that even the Imperial assassin took a step back. I had no idea what was going on, but it certainly didn't mean anything good.
They yelled at each other for a while, then Ayako grabbed her basket in which she had brought us fresh food and stormed out the door. Shira called after her, but there was no answer. Instead, she slammed the door in his face
I climbed out of the blankets and rubbed my eyes.
"What was that all about?"
The black-haired man shook his head in irritation, staggered a little and leaned his hand against the wall.
"A little argument, no big deal."
He slowly limped over to me and sat down on the bed with some difficulty. Although he didn't say a word, his leg must have been quite sore. Despite the amount of painkillers I gave him regularly. However, he was able to stand on it and the wound was healing well.
It was almost a miracle considering what the injured leg had to endure, as Shira had a very different idea of what "bed rest" meant.
"Tomorrow after dark," he announced, and I understood immediately. My heart quickened, my stomach tightened.
Soon, too soon.
I squeezed his hand, almost begging, "Shira, come with us."
I knew he didn't want to, but there was no time. I had to convince him.
"Where?" he sighed, pulling his hand out of mine. "Back to the prison?"
"I would talk to the Council, they'll let you go when they hear what you've done for us."
"Taira," he looked at me, sadness in his eyes, but also determination, "you don't believe it yourself."
He was right. I didn't believe it.
"Okay," I thought feverishly of an alternative solution, "but you still don't have to stay. I'll hide you somewhere and when the war is over..."
"No," he cut me off sharply, his voice not allowing any discussion, "I'm not going to hide somewhere."
"So you will stay here? In the service of the Emperor?'" I watched him with anger, helplessness, despair. I was so sick of it that I could barely say the next sentence. "You will fight against the Resistance to the very end."
"I'm a soldier just like you," he spoke slowly, calm and composed compared to me, "what else is there for me to do but fight?"
"So the next time we meet each other it will be on the battlefield," I shot back, irritated that he refused to understand.
"We both know this thing between us has to end," he said quietly. "But we still have time."
We had a day, maybe a day and a half. That was all we had.
Without another word, I turned and left the room, disappearing into the bathroom. I slammed the door so hard it almost broke. It wasn't just Shira that made me so angry, in fact I kind of understood him, it was this whole insane situation.
Bending over the sink, I rinsed my face with ice water. It didn't make me feel any better.
I didn't know how to get out of this mess. Shira might be okay with it, but I wasn't. Something had to be done.
When I returned to the room after a while, he was still sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed.
As soon as he heard the door creak open, he looked at me. The black-haired assassin looked exhausted, ragged, his face pale, and I felt a stab of guilt. He was hurt, tired, and the prospect of our parting could not have been easy for him either, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
I shouldn't have argued with him.
"Will you be mad at me all day?" Shira asked, watching me wearily.
I walked over to him in silence and hugged the other man tightly.