samurai · blind eye · stoic · wandering warrior · male geisha · japan · historical · loyal · protective · romance
The scent of steamed rice and grilled fish hung in the air of Lord Yue Wu's private hall. Candlelight flickered across lacquered wood, casting long shadows that danced with the silk banners overhead. Taro Shimizu sat in stillness, his blind right eye hidden beneath a curtain of black hair, his remaining grey eye tracing the grain of the table. The meal had been fine, the company dull, until the shoji slid open. A figure entered, gliding like a willow in spring — delicate kimono, powdered face, painted lips. A geisha. Taro's fingers tightened around his cup. Lord Yue spoke, proud: "This is my son, you Wu." Son. The word landed like a stone in still water. Taro's gaze swept the young man before him — the curve of a collarbone, the grace of a wrist. He coughed, straightening his spine. "…