Shudo and the Ronin

Title: Shudo and the Ronin
Disclaimer: Not mine. That includes Gravitation, the Tokugawa Shogunate, Edo, and anything else you’d like to throw in there.
Genre: AU/Drama/Romance
Rating: M
Pairings: Eiri/Shuichi
Summary: During the Tokugawa Shogunate, 47 Ronin were forced to make a hard decision: avenge the death of their Daimyo or start their lives anew. Ronin Eiri and his chigo, Shuichi will spend a year preparing for one fateful day. During that year, the bonds of Shudo between them will grow stronger and stronger.


Some terms you’ll need to know:
Chigo – acolyte
Wakizashi – smaller sword
Katana – larger sword
Daisho – refers to a wakizahi and katana together (literally “big and small”)
Daimyo – feudal ruler under the Shogun
Shudo – the revered male/male love-based relationship between a Samurai and his chigo. All Samurai of all stations were expected to take a younger male acolyte as their lover, occasionally forming life-long bonds of love.
Shishou - Master

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Everything that could possibly go wrong had gone wrong for the young chigo Shindo Shuichi. He’d woken late and missed breakfast, which meant he would most likely go without any food until the day had come to a close and his services were released. During the morning’s exercises, he’d dropped his Master’s wakizashi earning him a swift punishment; three hits with the bamboo rod. During afternoon tea his stomach complained so loudly that the Samurai banished him from the room to find sustenance. The shame of being sent from his Master’s side had made the food taste grey and chalky. It settled wrong in his stomach. And that evening, their Daimyo Asano still hadn’t returned from his visit to the Shogun’s palace.

Lately, Asano-dono had been having trouble dealing with one Kira Kozuke-no-Suke Yoshinak. Kira-dono was instructed to teach the Daimyo the proper forms of court etiquette. Asano-dono assumed he was dealing with a man of great honor, only to learn he expected to be recompensed for his services. While Asano-dono had offered many fine gifts in thanks; thirty bottles of sake, bolts of silk imported from the mainland, a company of fine young geisha women and several beads carved so intricately as to be works of art, the Sensei was not satisfied.

His demand for monetary payment was an affront to the Daimyo, who held fast to the belief that the honor of serving the Shogun Tokugawa was payment enough. Asano-dono refused to offer further ‘gifts,’ and in retaliation, Kira-dono grasped at every opportunity that presented itself to bring the Daimyo public shame and embarrassment.

Asano-dono had taken to spending long hours in the garden, contemplating the proper way to handle such an affront. Without any resolution, he’d made his way to the palace once again that morning, expecting to return before dinner would be served.

Dinner had come and gone, and still Asano-dono hadn’t returned. There were rumors of an uprising in the palace; a Samurai who’d stepped out of his bound and incurred the wrath of Shogun Tokugawa. Secretly, those in service to Asano-dono hoped to learn it was Kira-dono.

Shuichi retired to his room after being released from his Master’s service that night. He’d been in service to his Samurai for two years, and as time passed their relationship had progressed beyond that of normal Master and Servant. They were a true embodiment of shudo.

He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, patiently waiting. His Master didn’t come to his bed every night, but more often than not Shuichi would be woken by the fingers of the older man stroking his skin.

The silence of the halls was broken occasionally by the musical knock from the bamboo fountain in the garden beyond his rice-paper walls. Shuichi closed his eyes and focused on the rhythmic thud, his memories drifting back to when he’d first become his Master’s lover.

Shuichi had been called in to wait on his Samurai. His Master was a formidable but beautiful man; gorgeous blonde hair, golden eyes, chiseled features and a melodious voice. He was also the youngest Samurai in service to the Daimyo. His temper was legendary, and Shuichi had spent the better part of the last year learning how to avoid its vicious bite.

Uesugi Eiri had ordered tea service from his chigo, Shuichi, annoyed that the normal company of Geishas were occupied with a visiting dignitary. Shuichi had been trained in the traditional preparation and serving methods, but Eiri-sama was in the mood for more than just tea, and he doubted his servant’s ability to meet his needs.

“Shindo-kun, how long have you been at my side?” It was rare that Eiri-sama spoke to him unless he was demanding services, and Shuichi stuttered his response.

“S-since the turning of the year, Shishou-sama. Near on eleven months.” The chigo struggled to pour the tea neatly.

“Hn,” was the only response Eiri-sama granted as he accepted the hot drink. Shuichi sat in silence, awaiting further orders. It afforded him a rare opportunity to look on his Master in an unguarded state.

Eiri-sama’s lips curled in a slight smile as he inhaled the fruit-laced scent of the tea. His eyes squinted shut as he sipped, blocking the steam from his delicate golden orbs.

Shuichi long ago realized his devotion to his Samurai went deeper than that of Master and servant. He’d come to genuinely love the beautiful warrior, and carried an oath in his heart to always stay by his side.

Eiri-sama caught his gaze and returned it, waiting for the cheeky youth to snap out of his reverie. When Shuichi realized he was getting lost in the depths of his Master’s stare, he averted his eyes and blushed, embarrassed at being caught.

“Boy, do you sing?”

The chigo smiled at the question. “Oh yes Shishou-sama! I’ve been told my voice is pleasing. Would you like me to sing for you?”

Nodding yes, Eiri-sama relaxed and waited for his servant to begin. Shuichi picked a traditional min’yo, an old folk song. His voice rang out clear and beautiful, and the Samurai closed his eyes to enjoy it.

The music of the young boy’s voice washed over and through the warrior, seeming to cleanse him of the blood staining his skin. Eiri-sama smiled and enjoyed the impromptu performance, pleased with the stirring it caused deep in his blood. This chigo was pleasant to the eyes, and if he was willing, would be a fine companion for the night. The Geishas would be released of their duty once the dignitary left, but in the meantime, Eiri-sama would try to bring this boy into his bed.

Shuichi finished the song and fell quiet, waiting for his next order. Eiri-sama sat in silence for a moment before speaking.

“Shindo-kun, are you learned in the way of the young?”

The way of the young referred to the ancient practice of shudo, the sexual relationship between a young male acolyte and his older male Master. Shuichi had not expected their conversation to turn this direction, but was not disappointed in the least.

“No, Shishou-sama. I am not.” Unable to express his desire to be schooled in the way of the young out loud, Shuichi pleaded with his eyes, expressing hope and desire towards his beautiful Master.

Eiri-sama stood and walked to the young chigo’s side. “Stand and let me look at you.”

Shuichi did as he was instructed, standing perfectly still as the Samurai’s eyes appraised him. He forced himself not to flinch when Eiri-sama reached out and untied his obi, opening his kimono.

The servant’s kimono he wore was traditional; short in length with loose-material pants, held closed by an obi. His bare chest was revealed as the kimono was removed and placed down onto the tatami mat.

“Remove your pants.” Shuichi’s breath hitched as he rushed to obey, removing the last of his clothes and standing naked before his Master.

Eiri walked around his chigo, scrutinizing his body closely. After several such agonizing moments, he stood before the young man and addressed him.

“If I were to ask you to come to my bed tonight, what would be your answer?”

With a light blush and a demure smile, Shuichi answered, “Shishou-sama, I live to serve you. It would be my honor and pleasure to accompany you to bed.”

“Go then and prepare my futon. There is no need for you to redress.”

That had been the first of countless nights Shuichi had spent wrapped in the strong arms of his Master. Eiri-sama had eventually stopped requesting the company of the Geishas, instead preferring to be waited on and entertained by his young chigo lover.

Although his sexual services were not called upon every night, Shuichi could rely on being with Eiri-sama several times a week, and hoped that tonight would bring such pleasurable company to him once again. He had freshened his skin with plum oil, a scent his Master found particularly appealing, and lay naked beneath his covers.

He’d quickly learned that Eiri-sama preferred him to sleep without clothing. The Samurai would enter the room with the stealth of a ninja and kneel down beside his sleeping form. He would pull back the covers and stare at Shuichi’s naked body, reaching out to touch the soft skin almost reverently.

It was one of the few gentle acts Eiri-sama would indulge in before bedding his chigo. Their lovemaking was never soft. The warrior treated sex almost like a battle, demanding attention before sinking inside the small body and working himself up into a heated frenzy.

Shuichi treasured the first few moments that Eiri-sama would spend touching and looking at his body. Feigning sleep, the servant would try to make such sweet caresses last as long as possible before sighing to loud or twitching a muscle, giving himself away. Eiri-sama also enjoyed this game, building on the passion of his ministrations each time in an attempt to break the boy sooner.

But tonight, it seemed as if Shuichi would sleep alone. It was now very late, and their Daimyo still hadn’t returned from the Shogun’s palace. The warriors were probably discussing sending a messenger to learn of their leader’s where-abouts.

When his door suddenly flew open, Shuichi was ripped from his gentle memories by the panicked look on Eiri-sama’s face.

“Get up and get dressed.”

Shuichi jumped to his feet and threw on his pants, kimono and obi as quickly as possible, his heart pounding from the nervous energy and fear emanating from the Samurai.

“Shishou-sama, what’s wrong?” Shuichi began to visibly shake.

Eiri pulled a wakizashi from a cubby in the wall and handed it to his chigo. “Keep this on you. Stay by my side, and don’t speak. Our Daimyo, Asano-dono was ordered to commit suicide by the Shogun. His brother has been placed under house arrest. The palace Samurai are on their way here, surely to seize the land. We’re gathering in the courtyard to decide what to do. We may be forced to fight or run. Be prepared for both. Follow me.”

Shuichi could feel the blood in his body run cold at the news. His beloved Master was now Ronin; a Samurai without a Master. Eiri-sama faced the very real possibility of being ordered to commit seppuku like their Daimyo, slicing open his own stomach and having his head cut off.

Fighting back tears, Shuichi did as he was told and followed his Master to the courtyard where the servants, Geishas and other forty-odd Samurai turned Ronin now gathered to determine their fate.

TBC…

A/N: Soooo, whatcha think? Like? I hope… I know, it’s really different from my other stories, but the story of the 47 Ronin has been one I’ve loved since I was a teenager. And I believe that Eiri would make a fantastic Samurai, don’t you? So, please give me a few chapters chance before you decide I’ve gone insane. :-)

And I promise, I haven’t dropped Depravity. There will be a new chapter in a few days. Thanks for reading and giving me a chance!!

~ffpanda