The hot water of the cedar bathing barrel was absolute heaven.
I sank down until the water reached my chin, letting the steam melt the freezing chill of the Ancestral Shrine right out of my bones. My knuckles were bruised, my muscles ached, and I smelled faintly of old salt and assassin sweat.
But I was alive.
The sliding paper door to the bathing chamber rattled slightly.
"I am decent," I called out, knowing exactly who was pacing holes into the floorboards outside.
The door slid open. Akira stepped inside, quickly sliding it shut behind him to keep the draft out. He had finally changed out of his dark training tunic and was wearing a simple, loose gray robe. He still looked incredibly tense, his amber eyes scanning the small, steamy room as if expecting an assassin to pop out of a soap bucket.
