Severed

A dark haired man, dressed in an elegant crimson haori, sat alone near the window, holding a cup filled with dark liquid in his left hand. Lifting the cup to his lips, he looked down at the yard, where two feminine figures could be seen holding bokken while standing in their respective kamae.

Bemused, Yogo Ousei watched with smile as the taller of the two figures, his younger sister Ayano, lunged at the other, missing her target only to be struck down by their counter, and rolling on the ground to break the fall. Smirking, he turned his attention to the victor with a certain gleam in his eyes.

The other girl, a petite Bayushi bushi-to-be had caught his eye several weeks ago, when he had seen her yukata-clad juvenile form while attending summer festival with his sister. The girl had everything the Yogo found appealing. She was small... all around, and seemed innocent and pure as freshly fallen snow.

While Ousei had dismissed all the notions of love several years ago, he was still slave to the earthly desires, the bonnou, that even the most skilled geisha couldn't quench. And at the moment, the Bayushi seemed to be everything he desired.

He snorted. There he was, a noble man lusting after a mere ji-samurai. Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to the scroll he had been reading, only to find his gaze drawing back to the girl.

"Yogo-sama..." "Yogo-sama"

Ousei woke from his reverie at the window, startled, only to see a meek, almost frightened female servant huddling at his door, calling his name. He waved his hand, as if to dismiss the servant and returned his gaze upon the Bayushi below. Unfortunately, the servant didn't give up, as she kept calling his name, desperation ringing in her voice. Annoyed, the young man sighed, leaning his head to the left, indicating to the servant that he was listening.

The servant bowed deeply and spoke with a trembling voice. "Yogo-sama, your esteemed father wishes to see you. He is waiting in the library."

Dismissing the servant with a nod and a wave of his hand, Ousei rolled and bound the text he had been reading before becoming preoccupied by the petite Bayushi. Standing up, the man straightened his haori and checked the pleats of his hakama, before heading out to the library. As far as he was concerned, untidy samurai were either careless, or not taking care of themselves.

Arriving to the library, Ousei bowed before his father, a sturdy and short man with reclining hairline. Head of the family was dressed immaculately as ever, wearing a black kimono decorated with white scorpions bound with lavish crimson obi. And despite the relaxed mood at the estates, the old man was frowning as he read a scroll, sitting on a cushion behind his black, spotless mahogany desk.

Ousei coughed silently, his hands sweating. He had been summoned to his father like this only two time before. Neither of the talks had been particularly pleasant.

Noticing his son, the patriarch beckoned him closer with a simple nod, taking out a scroll bearing the Imperial mon from his sleeve pocket as he did so. Nervous, Ousei sat down, folding his arm in his lap as he did so. “Read, son” the Yogo patriarch said with a grim tone, smiling thinly as he handed the scroll to his son. “Read and rejoice.”

Opening the scroll, Ousei quickly scanned it with his eyes. His stomach lurched. Raising his head to face his father after he had finished, the young man felt despair like he had never know. His father was taking his life away from him. His freedom. Hands trembling, he addressed the head of the family, stuttering with a dumbfounded voice. "I am... to join... the Imperial Legions?"

Grunting, his father replied simply with a nod. “An honour to our family, and to our Clan.”

In an internal state of turmoil, the young man bowed again. "I will do my best, chichiue." There was nothing else he could do. “I will take my leave then...”

“Oh... and one other thing.” The elderly Yogo added, smiling.

A few moments later, Ousei walked back to his rooms,trying to keep his breath steady as he squeezed a letter in his left hand. The long, delicate nails dug deep to his skin, but Ousei didn’t care.The pain would help him to focus. He had a trip to plan.

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Non-native writer, so comments and critique is more than welcome.