You were old enough to marry, which means going to matchmakers, standing for long periods of time for high valued men to choose you out of a line up of other women. You were dressed in your family’s finest kimono, hair held up elegantly, makeup in perfect place.

The suitor was a Hatamoto samurai, not only that but he was part of the towns highly skilled Guard Dogs. He looked stern, emotionless and almost uninterested as he scanned through the like of prettied up women. His eyes flickered aimlessly before landing on you. His stared at you before, for the first time, speaking.

“I want her.”