STORMDANCER by Jay Kristoff

Author:Jay Kristoff [Kristoff, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Steampunk, YA Lit,
ISBN: 978-1-250-01791-8 (e-book)
Publisher: Macmillan 2012

Their nook was on a branch behind the bath house, obscured by thick tangles of wisteria blanketing the walls and the deepening light of dusk. Isao crouched low, eye to the peephole. His friend Atsushi, a wiry, quick-fingered lad one year his junior, sat beside him. The younger boy had drilled the hole several months ago, and the experiment had proved so successful that he’d since expanded the venture across the bedrooms of at least half a dozen girls in the village. His name meant 'industrious,' after all.

“Is she in there yet?” Atsushi whispered.

“Hai, shhhh,” Isao hissed.

“Let me see.”

“You go to the Nine Hells. I found her in the forest. Besides you hogged it yesterday.”

“Well, Hachiro’s wife was in there.”

“Gods above.” Isao pulled away from the peephole and scowled at his friend. “She’s old enough to be your mother.”

“What can I say? I fancy older women.”

“Well, if you fancy being torn to shreds by the arashitora, keep talking.”

“Aiya, it’s days like this I wish we had a picture box.”

“Shhhh!”

Isao pressed his eye to the hole again. He could see Yukiko sitting to one side, running Eiko’s brush through her long, black hair. Steam uncoiled in a pale haze from the water’s surface, several sputtering candles the only illumination. As Isao watched, the girl stood and untied her hakama, letting it slip to the floor in a dirty heap. He could see the long, smooth line of her legs, leading up to the delightful curve of her buttocks just peeking out from the edge of her uwagi. His eyes widened and he broke into an idiot grin. Atsushi tried pushing him aside and he hissed, punching his friend in the arm. The boys struggled briefly, slapping one another and pressing fingers to their lips, each urging the other to shut it. Emerging the victor, Isao put his eye back to the hole.

“Oh gods, she’s taking her top off ...”

Another brief flurry of slaps and hisses for silence. Yukiko untied her uwagi and slipped it off her shoulders. Isao caught his breath, drinking in the sight of the naked girl. Pale skin, bruised and gashed, the elaborate fox running down her right arm, one of its nine tails curled under the swell of her small, high breasts. Her skin was the color of honey in the candlelight. She turned toward him and stretched her arms above her head, sighing, slender, hourglass-shaped.

“You’re right,” Isao breathed. “We need to get a picture box.”

The girl padded toward the bath, a silhouette now against the flames. She dipped her toe into the water, hands of steam caressing her body. Sinking up to the waist, she turned her back toward him. Candlelight flowed over her skin, falling into shadows along the valley of her spine. She turned and Isao saw a small mole on her collarbone, hair flowing down over her left shoulder, a black curtain parting to reveal the tattoo underneath.

“Oh, shit,” Isao whispered.

“What? What?” Atsushi pushed his friend aside, pressing his eye to the hole, hands cupped about his face to cut off the light.

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