A/N:

Prior the Tokugawa Regime the fashion in carrying a blade was that it was bound to you're side with a cord. It wasn't until much later that Samurai began to tuck the katana or wakizashi into the hakama.

Hara-kiri or Seppuku is ritualistic suicide.

Chapter 4: Tempest

Jakotsu was a bit on edge when he heard the sound of one of the sliding doors opening behind the crane screen. The sound of someone stepping on the tatami mats was barely audible. If it hadn't been for the door he wouldn't have been certain that someone had come in at all.

After a few moments a monk stepped out from behind the screen bowing politely.

"I apologize for my tardiness my lord, I came as quickly as my feet would carry me."

Jakotsu and Bonkotsu both studied the man. For all purposes he looked like a monk but both of them could sense something else about him. It was the type of feeling that you get when you confront another skilled warrior.

The monk studied the two strangers in the room while a slight frown of concentration creased his brow. Especially when he looked at Jakotsu.

Smirking at the stranger, Jakotsu stared back almost defiantly. While Bonkotsu merely scowled at his friend for wanted to provoke him when they were both in such an awkward position.

Well at least now they knew who the Daimyo was.

"I wanted to express my gratitude for allowing me to stay in your beautiful home. If there is anything…"

His words were cut off with a wave of the daimyo's hand.

"There is nothing that you need thank me for. A pilgrim must eat as well as sleep. One nights shelter will not hurt me either way."

"You're generosity is beyond words."

"My servants will show you to you're quarters for the night." It was a distinct dismissal and there was no way that it could be misinterpreted.

Bowing the monk turned and followed the servant out of the room, but not before Bonkotsu noticed something odd up his sleeve. It looked like wires, and the look in his eyes… even though it was subtle a part of him knew the man wasn't an ordinary monk on a pilgrimage.

Whoever he was he was a cold-blooded killer and he was good at it. His eyes had seemed frozen and it was as though nothing could faze him. There was also an intelligence in his eyes that made Bonkotsu wonder is maybe they were both intending the same thing. If so an alliance might be welcome.

The daimyo seemed to command the presence of everyone as he lifted his hand towards the guards surrounding Bankotsu.

"So this is the man with the audacity to touch my betrothed?"

Sliding his hand along the mats his hand touched the saya of the wakizashi and katana at his side. Standing up slowly he tied his katana to his side using a cord while still holding the wakizashi by the saya.

Stepping down onto the main floor in his audience chamber, he used the hilt of his wakizashi to force Bonkotsu to look up at him.

"Just a lowly Samurai… do you not understand that such a flower is beyond your reach?"

His expression was that of a mad man intent on causing pain. Jakotsu knew that someone such as him could never hurt Bonkotsu to him he was nothing but a small fry. Idly he hoped that Bonkotsu would just kill him and be done with it.

Sure they were unarmed, but Bonkotsu could easily kill these fools with his bare hands now that they knew who they were after.

Right now he just wanted out of that filthy woman's clothes!

"Hara-kiri will not be permitted, I'll remove his head myself, still in the presence of such a lovely woman that would be a crime."

The lecherous look that the daimyo through Jakotsu made him wonder the exact shade of red that his blood was.

"Tomorrow at dawn will be soon enough I think. Take him away. As the guards haled Bonkotsu to his feet the daimyo let the saya of his wakizashi hit Bonkotsu's injured leg hard enough a normal man would have fallen to the ground.

Jakotsu sighed longingly. That was probably the reason why he liked Bonkotsu so much. If Bankotsu was anything ordinary was a far cry from him.

Chapter 5: to be continued...