No one said a word as the horsemen set out towards the fortress with the Emperor’s daughter held captive. The group trotted across the field and towards the moat, so that Ayame had a clear view of the fortified city. It stretched out as far as she could see and diminished behind a terrain decline – the wall must have been several miles long. The granite scarps seemed to glow under the morning sunlight, and Ayame stared up in wonder at the roofed battlement and tall towers. It was even more grand than the Court at Kyoto. She wondered how many people lived within the confines.

The guards let them through a side-gate without a second thought, and all Ayame could do was stare, her head turning this way and that. The number of men at ready was incredible. She was fascinated by their proud stature, their almost swagger-like walk, and swords at waists. Most of them wore a dark hakama and kimono, over which they sported wide-shouldered vests that made them look even more dignified.

They passed two more gates placed at strategic points in the walls. Ayame received curious glances, but her disheveled appearance and dirty coat failed to keep attention.

The city was like one enormous garden. Women in colorful kimonos strolled through lush parks with stone sculptures and waterfalls, small children running around. They tackled each other to the ground, picked up fallen branches and used them as swords. Ayame tore her eyes away and followed the graceful structure of the buildings and houses. The roofs shone in the sun, their edges curved and ornate. The vegetation was thick around the houses and mansions towards the centre of the city, tall leafy trees, blossoming with colour. Every now and then she would see a seated stoically on his porch, simply looking and contemplating the passers-by. Everyone seemed to be on the brink of running head-first into battle, yet the peaceful mood was tangible. She wondered whether it was just a front, this serenity.

The shogun’s residence was surrounded by another guarded wall, with a prominent central gate that was closed. They passed through a smaller side-gate and were greeted by the site of several guard rooms containing a range of weapons that Ayame glimpsed through opened door and windows. They continued on to a long, gleaming building, called the nagaya, which surrounded the armouries and barracks. Within the centre of the nagaya was located the central palace, surrounded by expansive hilly gardens and tea rooms.

Ayame felt elated, despite her current position as a captive. She was here, at last, about to meet the shogun. Her dreams would be realised soon. She would leave the mundane, sheltered existence she led at court, and step into something much more glorious and worthwhile.

The Willow Room was aptly named. The long window stretched from one side of the wall to the other, overlooking a landscape of soft green grass, a pond nestled into the pit between several slight mounds of terrain. Hanging over the pond were the limp branches of five willow trees.

Ayame sat on the tatami mat facing this window, and facing the stern face of Lord Kumamoto, the ruling shogun.

“You wish to disgrace your family.” He accused, seated before her on a low plinth. He looked at her with mild amusement. She was a beautiful woman with shining hair, a delicate jaw and pouting lips. Yet her almond-shaped eyes were too bold, too expressive.

She had removed her coat to reveal a floral kimono fastened by a wide, red obi. She no longer looked like a commoner.

“I wish no such thing, only to serve and have a purpose to my existence.” Ayame chose her words carefully, afraid suddenly of the repercussions. Again, she had expected a warmer welcome, but it seemed as if no one was happy about her presence in Edo.

“You are a woman and of royal blood, there would no greater shame for your family than to learn of your intentions.” His voice was calm, but she could sense the contempt. “Your place is none other than to serve your husband and his family.”

“I beg you to reconsider – “

“Nonsense!”

“Please. I have the will power and loyalty of any man. I am not afraid for myself, only for whoever I serve. I do not fear death and - ”

“You are telling me what I want to hear.”

Ayame bit her lip. It was true. But she did want to serve, and once in such a position nothing else would matter. “I am prepared to do whatever it takes to prove myself worthy to you.”

Lord Kumamoto ignored her. “You are to return to Kyoto in the morning, although you may do better for your family by vanishing into the woods, never to be seen again. “

Ayame swallowed her, her stomach dropping. Return to Kyoto? It was unthinkable now. She would surely be exiled, her family shamed for as long as she continued to live. She felt like breaking into tears, prostrating herself before the shogun and begging him to allow her into service. But such an act would not turn his decision in her favour. In fact, it would have the opposite effect. No samurai worth his pride would beg. In fact, for a man – even more so, woman – in her position, there remained only one course of action if the shogun’s decision was final: suicide.

“It is a long ride back to Kyoto. I shall send some men to escort you. Meanwhile, you are welcome to spend the night in the castle. I trust you are hungry and tired.”

Food? The last thought on her mind at the moment were her basic human needs. “Is there no other way I can sway your mind?” Ayame persisted. “You refuse to give me even a chance? Please, at least humour me, let me carry out what I wish and then I will leave Edo.”

“I refuse to waste my time and effort.” The shogun’s voice was slowly beginning to sound angry. “But tell me, is your family aware of your whereabouts?”

“No, they are not. I left without a word. I understand that they would be disgraced were they to learn the reasons of my disappearance.” Ayame’s eyes suddenly widened. “If nothing else, I beg you not to inform them.

“I shall not, for their own sake. But rumour may spread.”

“I understand.”

Ayame paced the porch, almost finding it in her heart to admire the beautiful cypress wood it was constructed of. The inside of the building has been shut off by the moving partitions to give her privacy from the eyes of the guards inside. At one corner of the porch grew a large cherry tree, bearing the ripe fruit. She reached over to pick the cherries, eating them one by one. They were sweet and supple, and her hungry stomach appreciated the action.

After a short while, she left the porch of the palace. In the garden, a path of various stones set into a layer of deep moss led towards a small buildings nestled into a copse of trees. Ayame recognized it as a tea house and thankfully continued inside, away from any prying eyes. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she dropped to her knees and made her way to the low table placed in the centre. The bamboo and paper partitions had been opened up on one side of the building to invite the fresh air and scenery. Beautiful painting of flowers and waterfalls hung on the walls.

Ayame reached for the short sword in her obi, pulling it right out of the scabbard. She inspected the dull blade and fidgeted with the hilt. It was harder than she had thought. Perhaps she was not meant to be a warrior if she was too afraid to even take her own life. But more than that, she was afraid to continue living with the current prospects.

With a deep sigh, she grabbed the hilt with both hands and pointed the blade at her abdomen. She screwed her eyes shut and thought of her mother, and then of the life she had hoped to live in Edo. Ayame imagined she was on the battlefield, fending off her foe with a long sword, slaying men one after the other. Then she imagined that her opponent had the upper hand, slashing at her with menace. She tripped over a rock and fell backwards, exposing herself as the man went in for one final stab…

“Stop!”

“Ah!” Ayame gasped. The short sword clattered onto the table. She spun around on her sitting position and faced the entrance, from whence the voice had come from. A man stood at the threshold, dressed in silk kimono and hakama, both black. At his waist were two swords, the long and the short. His jaw-length hair was tied back to frame an elegant face; long eyebrows and well-shaped mouth.

It took her a moment to regain her senses, after which she reached out for the sword on the table, determine to finish the job before she lost her nerve by dwelling on it too much.

A/N – I tried to make the historical information as accurate as possible. I based the description of Edo and the palace of what I have managed to gather. However, the actual structure and what these buildings looked like is difficult to find out, as the castle in question had actually burned down. So I have used my artistic license to flesh out these details myself, although they may not necessarily be 100 accurate. Furthermore, the shogun at this particular time was NOT Lord Kumamoto (I don’t think he ever existed), and this was purposeful, as I did not want to be burdened with conveying a real person and causing dissatisfaction with those who know a lot about whoever the shogun was at this time. Hence, with my made-up Lord Kumamoto, I have the right to do what I want with him!