As somebody who admired the late tea master Sen no Rikyū, Ichiro often wondered if the man would have accepted a person such as himself as a disciple. After all, it would have been a great honor, and one was almost certainly bound to win the respect of many as a result.

Granted, Master Sen had befriended one too many powerful men in his lifetime, and this had ultimately led to him being forced to commit ritual suicide a year after the execution of one of his most celebrated students.

Knowing this, Ichiro figured that he was lucky to be an unremarkable tea merchant who few cared about. If fame meant making countless enemies, then perhaps it was better to live an ordinary life and fade into obscurity after one died.

Such is life. We are but blossoms, blooming for a short while before-

"Sensei?" An eager voice sounded, interrupting his deep thoughts. "Are we going to begin the lesson? I've been waiting."

"Of course." He straightened up in haste, laying eyes on Shinrokurō's wife Chiyo, who, through some unforeseen circumstances, had become his student in the ways of preparing and serving tea. "My apologies..."

He gave the room a thorough scan, taking note of the sparse furniture and ample space before focusing on the small alcove behind him. In it hung a white scroll with two characters that he did not recognize. He felt tempted to ask Chiyo for their meaning but quickly decided against it, fearing that she would respect him less if she found out that he was almost illiterate.

"You and Shinrokurō have done well," he praised upon facing her once more. "Surroundings are everything. This simplicity shall allow us to abandon worldly thoughts and focus only on the harmony within."

Chiyo did nothing but nod intently, which filled him with relief because even he could not understand the profound words that had come out of his mouth.

He then proceeded to the next step, which from memory, consisted of making sure all tools were clean and in good shape. Taking care not to display a frown or smile, he began with the chakin and finished with the tea whisk, all the while subtly rearranging everything to his liking. "You see, every movement must be deliberate and necessary..."

"Yes, I understand," Chiyo said, nodding again.

"Now, we prepare the tea. You place three scoops of matcha into the bowl. Nothing more, nothing less."

He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders as he transferred three full scoops to the bowl, each time silently urging himself not to spill a single grain. Then, he passed the tea scoop over to Chiyo so that she could also have a try. She took it with a coy smile, and when she bent over to fill her tea bowl, it happened.

Clothed or not, the mere sight of her chest was enough to remind him of their encounter in the bathhouse. He felt himself grow hard and swallowed in shame, even though it seemed like his robes were loose enough to hide the bulge completely.

Nevertheless, he had to keep her distracted in case his perception was wrong. "You're doing very well," he encouraged, reaching for the steaming pot to his right. "I would advise you to shift back a little. The water is very hot."

Chiyo obeyed, then went back to watching him keenly as he clenched his teeth and tried to maintain a steady hand while pouring water into his bowl.

By the time he returned the pot to its previous location, both his forehead and upper back were sweating. He attempted to shift one of his legs but found that doing so was difficult when he was involuntarily aroused. Get a hold of yourself. Think of something else, for heavens' sake!

"Sensei, is everything all right? You look hot."

Ichiro raised his head slightly. "Why, yes I am. Could you open a window?"

"I shall." Chiyo stood up and crossed the room to do his bidding. He relaxed and, to his relief, felt his erection weaken.

That was a close call, he thought, eyeing the tea whisk on the table.

Chiyo stepped away from the window, then sat back down, looking quite proud of herself. "I've opened it for you, Sensei. Can we continue?"

"Of course. It's getting late." He picked up the tea whisk while wondering why Shinrokurō still hadn't come back from his evening business. Common sense dictated that one shouldn't leave their wife alone with another man, and the fact that his friend had done just that, was suspicious indeed.

The last thing he wanted right now was to be suspected of adultery, so he sought to excuse himself as politely as he could. "On second thoughts, maybe we should stop now. I believe I've overstayed my welcome."

"No, we shouldn't. You were just about to get to the best part," Chiyo protested, clearly confused by his sudden change of mind.

"I'm afraid we must. It's night, and who knows what the neighbors might say or think, with your husband absent..."

Chiyo's face sank. "Is this how you see our time together? As something immoral?"

"No, but others might," he explained, putting aside his bowl of evenly whisked tea.

"Well, do you know what I think? That fear is more reflective of your character than it is of theirs."

With a pout, she stood up to head for the door behind her and yanked it open before slipping through. Ichiro felt his chest tighten as she slammed it shut, the impact of which made the surrounding walls shake ever so slightly.

Once it had subsided, he buried his face in his hands. He'd been so sure that there had been an ulterior motive to Shinrokurō's proposal, and it now seemed like he had simply imagined such a thing. Yet, he knew that putting too much trust in anybody would likely lead to misfortune, a fact that frightened him since it meant he'd never form a decent relationship besides the one with his parents. 

Time passed, and it occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't suited for marriage. After all, chances were that he'd only make his future wife miserable with his inability to love or appreciate her.

It was a sobering thought, and as a result, he couldn't help but wonder if a life of celibacy would be the best solution.

Notes:

- A chakin is a small rectangular cloth that is used to wipe the tea bowl.