Furious, the old samurai shot to his feet, then froze as he realized who had dared such an affront.

Not that Koichi cared. He’d once dared a lot more than this. “I didn’t get your notice, Sunshine. Maybe you should pick a better messenger next time.”

Hanzō curled his lip. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a rock to crawl under and a bottle of sake to consume.”

“I did, and I was happy there. Sadly, you called me out and gave me a job and responsibility I didn’t want. I’m really resentful about it.” He gestured at the small lump in front of Hanzō, at their feet. Nothing could wake the boy. “Now I’m here for answers. And you’re going to explain some things for me.”

Hanzō raked him with a scathing sneer. Not that Koichi expected anything less. He’d just disrespected him.

In his own home.

He was lucky Hanzō hadn’t drawn on him. Or rather, Hanzō was lucky that Koichi hadn’t drawn on him. While Hanzō might be a renowned samurai, they both knew who would win in a duel.

Even half sober, Koichi was still the best swordsman in Japan. No one, not even Hanzō, refuted that.

And it wasn’t like anything good ever came from Koichi. In fact, trouble dogged his heels as if they were magnets for it.

No doubt his old commander planned to cut him down where he stood if the next words out of his mouth didn’t justify his actions.

So be it. He just might not fight back, for once.

Gently, Koichi unwrapped Ryuichi so that Hanzō could see his unconscious state. The boy’s skin was pale and his breathing shallow. Bruises marred his young, handsome features, and blood was crusted around his nose.

The alarming sight did nothing to change the pique on Hanzō’s face, or the sarcasm in his voice. “Let me guess. Our mission was as successful as always? At least you appear sober. That’s a nice change of pace.”

“Don’t get cute, Cousin. Who is this boy? Really?”

Hanzō shrugged. “A foundling.”

“And so—what? You just decided to bring him here to your home?” That was so out of character for a man who only took in boys and girls from respectable houses and notable families.

Hanzō might call them “foundlings,” but he usually found them only in the homes of the best people.

“It seemed like a good idea.”

How? Had Hanzō gone mad? “And why’s that?”

“The boy was skilled, and I thought we could use someone who was already advanced in his training.”

Koichi laughed and stepped back, his hand hovering over his sword.

How he ached to let it fly from its scabbard. To challenge the fool before him over such a pompous, stupid act as to bring in a boy with the powers Ryuichi possessed.

But he knew better.