Short story

I blame my friend Lena (~koekieleen). She had me read an Asian fanfic, and that's why it's Japanese-themed. 

Note: in ancient Japan, the samurai and ninja's were enemies, and various ninja clans fought each other as well.





He gently put his hand under her cheek and lifted it, trying not to disturb her. He smiled. What had he done to deserve this girl?
He probably had the war to thank for it; why else would a ninja have sought the protection of a samurai?
Not that it mattered – nothing mattered right now. He had his ninja. But he knew that the only reason that she was there was that no one else had believed her story about needing protection from other ninja's.  Truth be told, the only reason that he believed her was that he loved her. He had done so ever since they had been children, near the daimio's palace, he as a samurai's son, she as a servant's  daughter. His father had forbidden it, of course, but the old man was dead now. This thought surprised him and he quickly touched the amulet around his neck.
"Forgive me, father-sama," he whispered. "I spoke without thought and did not mean it. But now you've joined our ancestors, you must know that your plan to send her away for ninja training did not work. She found me again. And I'm not leaving her. I love her too much."
He grabbed the cup he had prepared for himself. The poison mix. He lifted the cup to his lips and emptied it in one gulp. As his hand went limp, and the girl's head rolled off the bed, the ninja that had slit her throat quietly opened the shoji door and  studied the way the moonlight played with the girl's blood before leaving.