((full)) | Sepuku Vs Harakiri

The rain fell in sheets over the hills of Aizu, turning the clay paths to blood-colored slurry. Inside the manor of Lord Tadamasa, two men sat in silence, separated by a single candle.

Satoru nodded. His hands were steady. He had spent the last three hours writing his death poem. Now he wore pure white robes, his hair tied back with a white cord. No armor. No pride left. sepuku vs harakiri

One was Master Kenji, a grizzled kaishakunin —the second who severs the head in ritual suicide. The other was a young ronin named Satoru, who had that morning failed to prevent a supply caravan from being overrun by bandits. Forty-seven men died. Satoru survived. For a samurai of Lord Tadamasa’s house, survival alone was an obscenity. The rain fell in sheets over the hills

The candle guttered. Rain hammered the roof. His hands were steady

Satoru’s hands, steady until now, began to shake.