The Shogun rested in the bath closing his eyes. The steaming water was fragrant with the apricot scent of freshly harvested osmanthus blossoms. He felt his tired muscles begin to relax. The hours on horseback and the continuous battles were taking their toll on his warrior body. Around him, he could hear the soft shuffle of his attendants, moving as flowers in the gentle breeze. Women ready to provide for his every need or desire were always on hand during his bath, and afterwards.
In his youth, he had considered his father's bathhouse an extravagant waste. The house was separate from the castle. It was built over a natural hot spring allowing for the bath to be filled at will without waiting on fires and servants. The path to the bathhouse was paved and covered to provide shelter from rain and snow. Now, a man in his thirties, he understood the necessity of this luxury.
His newest attendant, Sakurasou, was standing in the corner watching him closely as she had each time he bathed. She had come to him not as a gift from a family seeking favor. Instead, he had rescued the young woman from a vicious attack. Had he been but a moment longer, she would have preferred death to salvation.
