Jimmu nodded in acknowledgment. He had struggled to control his feelings for Takeko, and it was time to bring the struggle to an end. What had passed between them on the road back from Sakura was an impossible dream. It was as if Takeko had cast a spell over him that day, and turned him into someone who was free to do as he wished with his life. Sweet as that dream had been, he must force himself to wake from it, and deny what he felt for Takeko.

We cannot be together, Jimmu thought. How could she ever love her father’s killer? After I am dead, she will spit on my memory. The break must come. Better now than on another day.

Though his mind was certain that this was the right decision, his emotions told him otherwise. The thought of not being with Takeko, never hearing her laugh, never looking in her eyes again, filled him with pain.

“Discipline yourself!” said a voice in his head. “Control your feelings. In a fight, self-control can be the difference between living and dying.”

Oddly, Jimmu could not tell if the voice belonged to Nichiren or to Captain Muraki.

It was chilly in the garden. The bare branches of the cherry trees were stark against a sky the color of pumice. Jimmu waited at the edge of the pool. He was glad of the cold, and wanted it to freeze him until his heart was solid and felt nothing. Down in the pool, his own reflection regarded him morosely.

Takeko’s reflection slid over the surface of the water, and stood at his side. She was wearing a blue silk kimono under a thick red cape, and she looked more beautiful than Jimmu had ever seen her before.

“This is just like a scene in one of my favorite romances!” declared Takeko. “On the eve of battle, a handsome young samurai pays a secret visit to a princess, and confesses his undying love for her. Though she yearns to tell him that she loves him in return, the difference in their rank prevents her from speaking to him. The next day, the samurai is killed. The princess shuts herself away, and dies of grief. Isn’t that beautiful?”

“It’s only a story, My Lady,” Jimmu said.

“My life should be a story!” sighed Takeko. “Are you going to pour out your heart to me?”

Jimmu steeled himself.

“You shouldn’t say such things, My Lady,” he said. “They are beneath you. We’ve both behaved like foolish children, but now we must grow up.”

Takeko laughed.

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “You’re playing the part of a faithful servant who realizes that his love for his mistress is doomed, and so—”

“I’m not playing, My Lady,” Jimmu broke in.

Takeko was crestfallen.

“Don’t you like me anymore?” she whispered.

“My feelings are of no importance, but your reputation is,” said Jimmu.