If there was ever a good deed that Kumiko regretted, it was this one. After all, she had gone to the trouble of tricking her friend, acquiring proper bandages, and redressing Ichiro's wound, only to be rejected by him this afternoon.

She let out a heavy sigh while filling a bowl with steaming hot rice. Once again, she'd let emotion prevail over reason. Even if she hadn't found him, somebody else would have done so and become the one shouldering this burden instead of her.

But it was too late now. Ichiro was lying in her bed, and if she didn't win him over by tomorrow morning, then she would be guilty of harboring a human, which was punishable by exile.

She needed to change her tactics soon. There had to be a reason Ichiro refused to sleep with her, and she was going to find it out.

"Ichiro," Kumiko said as she turned to face him. "Do you like me?"

He propped himself up with one arm while his shapely lips curled into a smile. "Yes. Very much..."

Kumiko felt a flutter in her chest and almost surrendered to excitement before remembering her objective. She took a deep breath inward, then straightened her back to appear as dignified as possible. "Then, why won't you-"

"Because I don't want to be a part of your suffering." Ichiro assumed a stern countenance. "Surely you would understand."

"No, I don't," Kumiko stated as she moved on to the second bowl. "What makes you think I suffer?"

"You're a girl who lives all alone. I don't see how you would be able to support yourself without..." He paused and swallowed. "...without selling your body."

"What? Where did you get that idea?"

Ichiro gave a sigh, though she could not tell if it was one of relief or annoyance. "I have seen women like that in my hometown. Many of them have lost or been abandoned by their families."

"Oh." She realized the reason for his refusal. "Well, I can assure you that I would sooner die than stoop to such a level."

"I see," Ichiro murmured. "How do you make a living, then?"

Kumiko's joy faded, and she swallowed. She wasn't sure how to give a satisfactory answer while keeping the truth hidden, so she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I cannot tell you."

She spun around to fill a second bowl before Ichiro chuckled. "Very well, I'll guess."

"No, you don't-"

"You're the daughter of a physician, using your limited knowledge to help people like me."

Kumiko was struck by how much sense such a conjecture made when one considered the circumstances. She couldn't think of a better cover, so she pretended that he had guessed correctly.

"You're right," she replied with false excitement. "I learned a few things from observing my father at work, and I find that it has become advantageous in these times of war."

The swish of fabric let her know that Ichiro had sat up again or was at least trying to. She turned towards him, and her shoulders relaxed when it seemed that he had done so without difficulty.

He smiled at her in admiration as his eyes lit up. "If so, then I am impressed. I've always thought the true heroes to be not samurai or daimyo, but kindhearted people like you, who devote their lives to saving others."

Kumiko felt overwhelmed by this praise and placed a hand to her breast while taking in the sight of Ichiro's body. He was exquisite; sturdy shoulders, lean chest, and all. A heavy sigh left her lips. She wanted him to be invited to bed right this instant, but she doubted it would be. The healing salve was still doing its work, and he likely didn't have the will or endurance to see the act through to the end.

Curiosity got the better of her regardless. She took a deep breath before asking a question that she hoped would receive a negative answer. "I don't mean to intrude, but are you married? Or perhaps betrothed?"

Ichiro's smile grew wider. "I am neither. My parents have yet to find a suitable woman."

"I don't blame them," Kumiko remarked, marveling at his handsomeness yet again. "Very few can compare with a man like you."

"That's not true," Ichiro said in confusion, averting his eyes. "An ordinary fellow like me deserves to be with an ordinary woman."

Kumiko exhaled, finding it hard to believe that she was back to telling him how remarkable he was. "No, you're wrong. You deserve nothing but the best."

He stared at her for a while, then folded his arms. "And I suppose that means you?"

"What?"

"You wanted to sleep with me earlier. What was the meaning of that?"

"Uh..." Kumiko became aware that she had placed herself in the shameful situation of explaining her misbehavior. She sought to distract Ichiro by retrieving the first bowl of rice and putting it in front of him, but he did not even acknowledge its existence.

"Well?" he said with slight impatience in his voice.

"I..." she began, choosing to tell a half-truth. "I was overcome by desperation."

"Desperation?" Ichiro suddenly looked hurt, which in turn, made her want to cheer him up so that he'd smile again.

"Yes. Most of the men who come to me are old and frail, so when I saw you in the forest, I thought a chance had arrived at last."

"Oh. That makes sense." His gaze softened, and he lowered his arms. "With no family or prospects of marriage, you must be more than eager to feel a man's affection."

Kumiko nodded before continuing to play the role of a pitiful orphan. She raised her hands to rub at absent tears and sniffed. "Indeed. All I want is to be loved, but nobody has ever been able to do such a thing for me."

"No, please don't cry..." Ichiro touched her right arm gently. "You just need to wait. Someone is bound to see your worth soon."

She lowered her hands and abandoned the pretense. Why couldn't he accept the notion that she had chosen him for her first time? It was beginning to frustrate her, and she felt tempted to hit him on the head for being so willfully ignorant.

"But I want it to be you," she persisted while barely holding back her emotions. "Is that so hard to understand?"

Ichiro paused for a moment and then retreated to the comforts of her bed with forlorn eyes. "I'm sorry. I wish that I could offer you relief, but we don't even belong to the same class."

Kumiko's heart sank as she considered his words. She often forgot that humans did not rank themselves in the same way as yōkai, and now she felt like a fool.

"If that's so, could you tell me what your family does for a living?" she asked, dreading the response he might give.

His bare chest contracted and expanded. "We make money from selling tea. That puts me beneath a noble soul like you."

"No, it doesn't. You are worth no less than me," Kumiko blurted out, only to realize the absurdity of this statement. "But, if you must care, then hear this. It would harm no one if we kept the matter solely between ourselves..."

"What?" Ichiro straightened his back and regarded her with surprise.

"When it's over, I'll go my own way, and you'll do the same. Neither of us will seek the other so that in time, it will be like our encounter never happened at all. How does that sound?"

The lump in Ichiro's throat moved up then down. He stared at his cooling bowl of rice while in deep thought.

"Very well. I shall honor your wish," he eventually replied, bringing Kumiko a great sense of triumph. "However, one kiss is all I can promise. Anything more would be unlawful."

******

Historical Note:

- Merchants were ranked even lower than farmers and peasants in feudal Japanese society, hence Ichiro's hesitation to associate with Kumiko intimately.