Bitter Fruit

Later, in the darkest hour of the night, Ebisu held a trembling, writhing Toshiro close in his arms, both too keyed up to even try to couple, Ebisu grimly smiling and Toshiro quietly crying, as both listened to the screams of the Filipino drifting down the corridor from the main guest chamber, where the prince and his riding crop were indulging in the prince's favorite pastime. Toshiro was shriven by the thought of what was happening to his new lover, but Ebisu was possessed by the image of it happening to Toshiro as well once he was sent to Tokyo and placed under the prince's sponsorship.

* * * *

The day of the Filipino's sending away to Prince Bishamon unfolded sunless. Mists spun down off the mountain into the fields below the Hoseida pavilion platform and refused to provide entry for the sun's warmth.

Ebisu found Toshiro sobbing in his chamber. The master embraced the consort in his arms and rocked him back and forth, but Toshiro's sobs were inconsolable.

Ebisu was having trouble controlling his own emotions as well—and even having trouble discerning all of the conflicting emotions at play. He was sad and distressed. But he was aroused too at the vulnerability and depths of emotion in his young lover—who could not bring himself to tell Ebisu what Ebisu already knew.

Toshiro was in unintentionally fetching dishabille, having not left his chamber in days. He was wearing a cotton yukata, which had fallen away from his body, and he writhed, almost naked, achingly beautiful of body, within the embrace of his chujen. Miraculously Ebisu's cock was hardening, and Toshiro willingly and fully gave himself to his master, opening his legs, rolling Ebisu over on his back and mounting his pelvis, pulling Ebisu's cock inside him, and riding him in an undulating movement of a ship on rolling sea. Sobbing away but giving his chujen full measure of what he was there for.

In grateful flow, loving Toshiro more deeply than ever, Ebisu ejaculated what he suspected was his last spouting of Hoseida seed from his loins, all the more moved and appreciative in this revelation.

Holding the trembling Toshiro in his arms, he whispered. "You are willing to stay with me forever? To be taken to cross over with me if that is what I desire."

"Yes, sire. I am yours forever," Toshiro murmured without hesitation.

And Ebisu believed his young lover—that Toshiro would maintain the honor of his position in the Hoseida household to the death, if necessary, even though his heart was with another, who was being sent away to a cruel task master.

"Here," Ebisu said in a low, gravely voice, as he sat up and took two folders out of the folds of his robe. "I came here, not knowing what I would do with these. But take them. And go. They include unlimited access to my international accounts. And take the Filipino with you. Quickly, before the prince's escort arrives."

Toshiro sat up in bed and took the folders in shaking hands, trying to focus on them through his bitter tears. "What? I don't understand . . . but these are tickets. Boat tickets. For America. Chujen . . .?"

"These are your freedom, Toshiro. Yours and the Filipino's. I know it is not me that you love. And I love you so much that I cannot hold you here any longer—knowing what looms on the close horizon for Japan—and for me. Go, now. Before I change my mind."

"But the prince . . ."

"Yes the prince will be angry. But the prince is resilient. And I no longer care to see my cotton rotting on the bodies of dead soldiers in the killing fields. Go. Now. Find the Filipino and go."

When Ebisu was alone with the ominous beating of his heart, he became the one sobbing into the pillows of the bed in Toshiro's chambers. No greater love. He refused to dwell on the knowledge that the travel tickets had been acquired to be used by Toshiro and himself.

In the shadows, beyond the slitted silken drape at one of the chamber's door, stood the major domo. Having heard everything, he puffed out his chest, very pleased with the turn of events. His duty to Madame Akiko now fulfilled and without half the effort he had assumed would be necessary. The House of Musashino returning to safe, dull routine, with his own position further enhanced. And it would not be long now. It was obvious that the chujen was dying. Everyone knew it. He had even heard Toshiro whispering to the Filipino about it. A good thing that Ebisu had no idea of the depth of Toshiro's loyalty when he had agreed to pass over to the ancestors with Ebisu, if that was what Ebisu wanted.

What was this thing called love, the major domo mused. And how could it possibly exist between men? Or the sense of honor, loyalty, and obligation, for that matter? Oh, well, thoughts for another day. The major domo now had to look to the preparation of that rich food and drink that he knew Ebisu could not resist and that Toshiro was no longer around to urge him to forego.