The Samurai That I Loved

第38章

Shojiro watched Eliza Whitlock step out of his life by just venturing mere feet away, initiating the end of their journey together.

The moment he had torn her away from himself was the exact moment his heart went rigidly cold with a terrible, acute ache he knew would never be healed without her light. The emptiness was as palpable as the wind between his fingers.

His eyes never strayed away from the blessed sight of her retreating form.

Goodbye, my little hana...

Never before had he felt the need to cry...not since the death of his father. Back when he was only a youth, he had hidden away in secret to shed his tears inside the forest. No one had ever seen them. But now, it was as if his heart were tearing apart all anew. However, no tears were shed.

Instead, he angled his head to the side and with a low voice, muttered in Japanese,

"How long have you been standing there?"

The tip of a finely-sharpened blade was pointed directly into his back, only subtly enough to alert him of another's presence.

"Long enough." Makato-san's hushed voice came from behind him. Shojiro lowered his head, sequestering the feeling of his heart brutally plummeting.

"Let her go. Take me if you must, but let her go." He whispered with an edge to his voice. Makato-san's blade faltered for only a brief moment before he answered back,

"You know I cannot do that, brother...I warned you."

Shojiro went rigid, his features taut and his jaw clenched.

No.

Quickly sidestepping and pivoting, he unsheathed his own blade and met Makato-san's head on with a stony look of determination. Metal rammed against metal as Shojiro hissed,

"I don't want to kill you."

"You traitorous bastard." Hiruma-san's voice suddenly broke through the conflict as he stepped out of the shadows. Shojiro jerked his gaze to him with sheer disbelief and anger.

"Drop your weapon." Hiruma-san ordered Shojiro with contempt edged in his voice, lifting his own blade alongside Makato's.

The piercing sound of Eliza's scream instantly occurred from the distance. Shojiro pivoted just in time to see two guards grip her arms and drag her down the gangway.

"No!" He shouted in English, moving forward instantly. However Makato-san and Hiruma-san immediately caught him in a death grip. Makato-san ripped his sword out of his hands.

Shojiro shouted and fought them, but Hiruma-san held on tightly and put his katana up to his throat harshly.

"After the foreigner shot you and you nearly bled to death back in that village...you go and betray your entire country over her like this?!" He spat out with disgust. Shojiro hardly heard him though for he was too absorbed in the wretched pain of seeing Eliza being hauled away in binds by guards to the Palace dungeons no doubt.

Makato-san watched his fellow samurai whom he had great respect for looking weaker beyond compair as he stared at the little white girl. It was incomprehensible to see such a change happen in a man like him. Whatever was glistening in his eyes could be none other than actual, real emotional attachment of some kind to that foreigner. It made Makato-san question everything.

"Say something! Why?!" Hiruma-san got into Shojiro's face and hissed again while Makato-san began to wordlessly handcuff him from behind. Shojiro felt frozen, stuck in place watching the girl he loved being taken away, given the same fate as he.