Jimmu was lost. Lady Takeko’s presence wiped away the rest of the world.

“You fought courageously,” she said.

Jimmu bobbed his head to acknowledge the compliment.

“We must find somewhere for you to hide, My Lady,” he said. “Once you’re safe, I’ll go back to the castle for help.”

“No you won’t!” said Lady Takeko. “You’ll round up a couple of horses and we’ll ride back together. I’m not staying here alone.”

“But, My Lady!” Jimmu protested. “There may be other Takeda samurai nearby. You’ll draw more attention to yourself on horseback.”

Lady Takeko glared.

“I already have the attention of the entire Takeda family,” she said. “Lord Shingen wants to kidnap me, marry me off to one of his cronies, and force my father into an alliance. Stop wasting time and find those horses. And stop calling me My Lady. When we’re at the castle you can fawn and grovel all you please. Out here, it turns my stomach. My name is Takeko. I graciously give you permission to use it—just this once.”

Only one of the riders’ horses was anywhere to be seen. Jimmu caught hold of its reins, and the animal placidly followed him.

Takeko petted the horse’s neck and made clicking noises with her tongue. The horse swiveled its ears to listen, and whinnied softly.

Takeko took hold of the saddle and slipped her foot into a stirrup. When Jimmu made as if to lift her, she stopped him with a disdainful look and swung herself up with apparent ease.

“I’ve been getting on and off horses by myself since I was eight years old,” she said.

“I’m sorry, my—I mean—I’m sorry!” said Jimmu. “You ride, I’ll walk.”

Takeko laughed scornfully.

“Don’t be stupid!” she said. “Get on behind me. There’s just about room for the two of us.”

Jimmu climbed into the saddle and squeezed in behind Takeko, his face hot and red with embarrassment.

Takeko kicked her heels and urged the horse into a canter.

“Who taught you how to fight like that?” she demanded brusquely.

Nichiren’s face flashed into Jimmu’s mind.

“An old man,” he said.

“Your grandfather?”

“No, only an old man I used to know. He died last spring.”

Takeko sighed in exasperation.

“The oldest person I know is my grandmother,” she said. “She’s so old-fashioned that it drives me mad. She pesters me about being polite, and meek. She says I must learn to flirt properly so that I can marry a rich husband. Hah!”

Jimmu smelled the perfume in Takeko’s hair.

“Would marrying a rich man be so bad?” he asked.

“You don’t understand, because you’re male,” replied Takeko. “You can have adventures and go to war. Women are supposed to look pretty, have babies, and arrange flowers. Men have choices.”

“Not all men,” Jimmu said.

Takeko twisted around in the saddle to peer at him. “Why do you look so sad?” she said. “You’re the saddest-looking boy I’ve ever seen.”

Jimmu countered with a question of his own.