Steel Wrapped in Silk
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 11: Taichi’s Preparation
Two months before the wedding
Taichi knelt in the estate’s small dojo, his bokken (wooden practice sword) resting across his knees, sweat cooling on his skin after morning training.
He should have been thinking about form, technique, the corrections his instructor had given him.
Instead, he was thinking about her.
Two months. In two months, he would marry a woman he’d met once, eight months ago. A woman who’d been transformed—polished, refined, made acceptable—through a process he could barely imagine.
Mōri Mio, he thought. Soon to be Shabazu Mio.
But in his mind, she was still the girl from the sword shop. Bright-eyed, competent, proud of her knowledge. The one who’d examined his wakizashi with such expertise, who’d spoken to him without the nervous deference most commoners showed samurai.
Was she still in there, underneath all the training? Or had eight months of erasure destroyed her completely?
“Taichi.”
He looked up to find his father standing in the doorway of the dojo.
“Father.”
“We need to discuss the wedding arrangements.”
Taichi stood, bowed, and followed his father to the estate office—a small room where Matsui handled household business and correspondence.
A scroll lay unrolled on the desk, covered in formal script.
“The guest list,” Matsui said, gesturing for Taichi to sit. “I need your approval before finalizing it.”
Taichi scanned the names. High-ranking retainers from their lord’s service. Distant relatives. A few allied families. Notably absent: anyone from the bride’s birth family.
“This seems appropriate,” he said neutrally.
“Good. The ceremony will be held here, in our main hall, at sunset. Mōri Kaito and his wife will represent the bride’s family. The matchmaker will officiate. After the san-san-kudo, your bride will change from white to colored robes, and we’ll have a small reception.”
Taichi nodded, the details washing over him like water. Ceremony. Reception. Formalities.
None of it addressed what actually mattered: Who is she now? What have they done to her? Will she hate me for my part in this?
“Taichi.” His father’s voice sharpened. “Are you listening?”
“Yes, Father.”
“You seem distracted.”
“I’m thinking about the marriage.”
“Good. You should be.” Matsui rolled up the scroll. “This is an important alliance. Your uncle’s household gains status through the connection. We gain financial stability through the dowry. And you gain a well-trained, educated wife who will manage your household competently.”
“Like property,” Taichi said before he could stop himself.
His father’s eyes hardened. “Like a partner in maintaining our family’s status. Which is what marriage has always been in our class. Don’t romanticize it.”
“You bought her, Father. With her own father’s money. You tore her from her family and forced her to become someone else. That’s not partnership—that’s ownership.”
“It’s survival.” Matsui’s voice was cold now. “Do you think I enjoyed arranging this? Do you think it was easy to negotiate terms, to coordinate the adoption, to manage the finances? I did what was necessary to save this household from slow decline.”
“At her expense.”
“At everyone’s expense!” Matsui stood abruptly. “Her father gave up his daughter. Her mother lost her only child. Your uncle took on the burden of her transformation. My brother-in-law’s family accepted financial obligation. And you—you’re accepting responsibility for a wife you didn’t choose. Everyone sacrificed something. That’s how these arrangements work.”
Taichi stood as well, facing his father across the desk. “And her? What about what she sacrificed?”
“Everything. Which is exactly why you owe her respect, kindness, and loyalty. Because she gave up her entire world to be here.” Matsui’s expression softened slightly. “I’m not a monster, Taichi. I know what this cost her. That’s why I chose carefully. I found a girl who was intelligent enough to adapt, young enough to transform, and accomplished enough to be valuable. I didn’t just buy any merchant’s daughter—I chose one who could thrive in this life.”
“Or one who could survive it, at least.”
“Survival is thriving, for people like us.” Matsui sat down again, suddenly looking tired. “Do you know how many samurai families go bankrupt every year? How many lose their status, their land, their honor? We’re one bad harvest, one lord’s disfavor, one expensive obligation away from ruin at any given moment.”
He gestured at the estate around them. “This house, this garden, the gate with peeling paint, the roof that needs repairs—all of it requires money we don’t have. The stipend from our lord hasn’t increased in three generations. Meanwhile, rice prices rise, servant wages rise, the cost of maintaining appearances rises. We were bleeding money, slowly dying while trying to look prosperous.”
“So you sold my marriage to save us.”
“I secured our future. And in doing so, I gave that girl a future too. Do you think she’d be better off married to some merchant’s son, living her entire life as a commoner? Her children would face the same uncertain fate, the same vulnerability to economic disaster. This way, her descendants will be samurai. Secure. Protected.”
Taichi wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny the logic. The system was brutal, yes. But within its constraints, his father had actually done something relatively humane—chosen a girl with the intelligence to make use of her new status rather than be crushed by it.
“Have you met her?” Taichi asked quietly. “Since the adoption? Do you know how she’s doing?”
“Your uncle sends regular updates. She’s progressing well. Aoi says she’s one of the most dedicated students she’s ever trained. Quick to learn, disciplined, respectful.”
“And is she happy?”
Matsui looked at him with something like sympathy. “I don’t know. Happiness isn’t a requirement for these arrangements. But competence is. And she’s more than competent.”
Taichi sat down slowly. “I want to see her. Before the wedding. I want to know who I’m marrying.”
“Absolutely not. It would be highly inappropriate.”
“Everything about this arrangement is inappropriate, Father. What’s one more breach of protocol?”
“The answer is no.” Matsui’s voice was final. “You’ll meet your bride on your wedding day, as tradition dictates. Until then, you’ll prepare yourself to be a good husband—patient, respectful, willing to give her time to adjust to her new life.”
“And if she hates me?”
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