Do not look. Do not look.
The words echoed in Takashi’s mind, but his body would not obey. Commander Masaru, the samurai he’d loved and served for ten years, was taking off his kimono and Takashi could not pull his gaze from the man’s broadly muscled back. Especially when the summer sun made Masaru’s golden skin shine.
Takashi swallowed hard and crouched behind the rock. He fingered the bottle of sesame oil in the pouch he carried. His mother was expecting the oil for her altar to the ancestors and Takashi knew he needed to continue on his way and deliver it so he could return to the barracks before sundown. But Commander Masaru had pulled out his topknot, letting his ebony hair tumble around his wide shoulders. That done, he began u
