On the Moon Bridge
Two lovers meet in secret, but joy can turn to sorrow in an instant. Despite all your hopes and fears, sometimes the future never comes.
Notes: It's been far too long since I last posted. Technically this is more of a scene than a full story, but I wanted to share it anyway. Tell me what you think, even if you hate it.
Takuma loved the way the castle garden looked at night, when everything was shaded in silver and blue. The plants took on an otherworldly glow when bathed in moonlight, and the air was quiet, calm, and cool. A placid stream ran through the garden's center, and that stream was spanned by an arched moon bridge painted in vibrant red, where one could stand and marvel at the night sky and its reflection on the water.
The young vulpine samurai stood at the apex of the arched bridge and admired the full moon shining big and bright just over the castle walls. He breathed in deep. The crisp autumn air was invigorating, and his breath left clouds when he exhaled. He felt at peace here.
After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, a lilting, melodic voice broke the silence. "It's rather cold tonight, isn't it, Takuma."
He looked towards the voice and smiled. A young vixen stood on the stream bank looking up at him. Quiet solitude was nice, but the right company was even better. "Hello, Michiko. Would you care to join me? The moon is lovely tonight - almost as lovely as you."
"I'd like that."
It took only a few steps - a few heartbeats, a few breaths - for Michiko to reach the bridge. She took her place beside him, standing much closer than courtly protocol would normally allow. They looked up at the moon together, and then she leaned her head on his shoulder. A moment later, he reached for her hand and their fingers laced together.
He had lost count of the number of nights they had met like this. This was their special spot, in the center of the quiet, darkened garden, standing on the moon bridge where they could gaze at the heavens together and imagine life was simple. Here they didn't have to worry about protocol or status or honorifics. They didn't have to pretend to be distant strangers like they did in the world of daylight.
Michiko shivered and pressed closer. "How are you not cold?" she asked.
"I have thick fur and a heavy kimono. And I like the cold, anyway. It makes me feel alert, more aware of the world and of myself."
"The cold only makes me shiver and curse the sky. I'd rather be inside by a warm fire."
"But if you were inside you couldn't be with me."
"That's true. I suppose you can keep me warm enough for now, if you hold me close."
He held her close, just like he did every evening they met in the garden. Takuma cherished these moments they stole together, but he wondered how many more they might have. There were rumors that Michiko's father was seeking to arrange a marriage. Did Takuma have any hope of becoming her betrothed? True, he was a samurai, but one of a very low rank. Michiko's father held a much higher rank, and would likely want to give his daughter to someone of equal or higher status.
"What did you do today?" Michiko asked. It was a welcome distraction from darker thoughts.
"More training in the dojo. Mostly swordsmanship today. When Master Ishikawa saw my form, he said that in a battle I might not die. That's the nicest thing he's ever said to me."
"Didn't you spend all of yesterday in the dojo too?"
"Yesterday was hand-to-hand combat training."
"And the day before that?"
"Archery practice in the field. And horseback riding the day before that."
"Is combat all you think of anymore?"
No, but he didn't want to share some of his other thoughts. "I need to be ready. Lord Oshiro could send me off to fight at any time."
"Even so, there's more to being a samurai than fighting. Remember Lord Oshiro's favorite saying."
"The pen and the sword in accord," they recited together, and then broke into soft giggles.
"I'll leave the calligraphy to you," Takuma said. "You're good at it."
"Lady Akiyama did say that my brushwork has improved greatly these past few months," Michiko said, sounding quite proud of herself. "But don't try to change the subject. Why don't you ever practice your calligraphy? It would do you good to take a break from training. You could try writing poetry. I would love to read something you wrote."
"I'm not good with words."
"That's not true. I've heard you say some beautiful things."
"It all gets lost when I try to put it on paper. When I pick up a calligraphy brush it's like my mind goes blank."
"Then use your tail if you have to."
A sly smile spread across Takuma's muzzle. "Oh, is that how you practice? Maybe I should check your fur for ink stains." He grabbed Michiko's tail and made a show of examining it closely, enjoying the feel of her soft fur beneath his fingers.
The vixen gasped and yanked her tail away. "Really, Takuma, what is wrong with you?" she exclaimed in mock shock. "Grabbing my tail like some common ruffian... I thought samurai were supposed to treat vixens with dignity and respect."
"Forgive me, my lady. I simply couldn't resist such an attractive tail."
"You're lucky you're so cute, or else I might not forgive you so easily."
They were facing each other now. Their muzzles were so close, and it would be so easy to lean in and steal a kiss. He'd done it more than once.
But something made his ear twitch. It was the sound of footsteps. He spun around and his hand found his sword hilt. The weight of the katana at his side suddenly felt reassuring. "Who's there?" he called to the darkness.
Michiko gasped, and this time it was a sound of fear. Several shadowy figures stepped out from the trees nearest the outer wall. They all carried weapons, and their garb was different from anyone who lived in the castle. "How cute," said a large fox with a missing ear. "It's a couple of lovers out for a stroll."
"So sorry for interrupting," said another, a smaller, slimmer fox whose sneer was audible.
Takuma placed himself between Michiko and the strange foxes. He looked back to his love and tried to keep a brave face. "Go, Michiko. Warn the guards. Wake the castle." The vixen spared him one last frightened look, and then ran off towards the main tower. The samurai faced the intruders and drew his sword, hoping the darkness would disguise how much he was trembling.
"I am Matsushita Takuma, a samurai sworn to the service of Lord Oshiro. You are trespassing in this castle. Leave, or I will be forced to cut you down." He did his best to sound intimidating, but his voice was higher pitched than he would have liked. He still sounded more like a boy than a man.
The intruders laughed at him. "Look at him, he thinks he's a samurai! Drop your wooden sword, little kit, and run back to your mommy. We have a job to do."
Takuma snarled at the taunt. "This sword is true steel. Come closer and I'll prove it."
They laughed at him again, except for one who stood apart from the others. This fox looked older and carried himself with easy grace and power. When he stepped forward, the others fell silent.
"Believe it or not," he said, "I don't much enjoy killing children. Throw down your sword, kit, and I'll let you run away. Your lord will die tonight, but there's no reason you have to." The older fox didn't speak like a noble, but he did speak like someone accustomed to authority.
Takuma swallowed his fear and tried to sound like he had some authority of his own. "My duty is to my lord. I will not allow you to pass."
And more importantly, he had to buy time for Michiko to get away.
The older fox let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I know your head is full of visions of valor and glory, but you really don't want to clash swords with me. Run away."
"A true samurai never runs."
"Of course. You idiots always say that. And then you die pointlessly."
The strange fox drew his sword and moved closer to Takuma. The two warriors raised their guards and sized each other up. His opponent clearly had experience, but Takuma hoped his own reflexes were faster.
He tried to remain aware of his surroundings, just as Master Ishikawa had taught him. He had a few advantages. The moon bridge was narrow enough that only one opponent could approach at a time, and its arch meant that he held the higher ground, if only barely. But the stream was shallow and not too wide, and two of the other foxes had polearms. They could surround him if they wanted. Or some of them could run past him while the rest held him off.
But the others just stood there, content to watch their leader. Why were they so relaxed? They didn't seem to care about stealth, and they hadn't bothered to stop Michiko from running off. Why were they so confident that they felt they had time to toy with a single young samurai? How had they scaled the walls without alerting the guards? Where were the sentries? Takuma didn't have answers, but it was clear the castle was in great danger.
His opponent feinted, and Takuma drew back, keeping to the higher ground. He silently cursed himself for focusing on his fears instead of the duel.
"This is your last chance, kit," the strange swordsman said. "There's no use in having more bravado than brains."
"I will not yield."
The samurai looked for any opening in his enemy's guard, any weakness he could exploit. He only needed one strike. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt more alert to every breath and movement than he ever had before.
His enemy's blade dipped for just a moment, and Takuma thought he saw an opening. The young fox lunged, but the swordsman parried with the swiftness of a swallow. The clang of steel rang out across the garden. Takuma found himself off balance and off guard. He had a split second to contemplate the beauty of silvery moonlight glinting off two blades, as well as the fact that he had just lost the duel. Then his opponent's katana came down in a diagonal slash across his chest.
The young fox staggered. For a moment he thought he might keep his balance, but then the older swordsman's clenched fist smashed him across the muzzle and sent him tumbling over the moon bridge's bright red railing. There was the sensation of falling, and then a splash and a thud.
Strange, how the first thing he noticed after landing was the uncomfortable feeling of water entering his ears. Then a series of petty realizations: he wasn't holding his sword anymore; his kimono was soaked; his back hurt from landing in the shallow, rocky stream. Only then did he notice how hard it was to breathe. Only then did he feel something moist and sticky spreading across his chest, and realize that the substance was different from the water moistening his back.
His vision was quickly going dim, but he could still make out the figure of the strange swordsman standing at the apex of the moon bridge's arch. With the moon behind him, his face was in shadow, his expression impossible to read. The older fox looked down on him, shaking his head slowly. Despite the water in his ears, he heard the swordsman's words clearly: "I hate it when they have more bravado than brains."
Takuma saw the silhouettes of the invaders walking across the bridge, weapons drawn and ready to ransack the castle. He felt shame for failing to stop them. He felt fear for Michiko and everyone within the walls who he cared for. He tried to ignore the fear he felt for himself. And then Takuma ceased to see or feel anything at all.