Puddles reflected moonlight through the scattered clouds. Returning skyward, it reflected off the bamboo leaves rustling in the wind. Travel was regular on this road connecting Kyoto to Nagoya, at least for those who possessed the proper paperwork.

Ito did not possess the needed authorization for this type of cross daimyo travel, but he didn’t need it. He lived in a nearby village as a respectful man. By day he’d cut bamboo and take care of the forest. In the evenings he cared for his wife and children. By all accounts, he was the strong, hardworking, family man everyone idealized; at least on the surface.

On a warm night after the rain drove the bugs into hiding, such as tonight, an itch would form. A deep desire would take hold that demanded satiation. A need that could only be filled with a nighttime stroll on the road through his forest.

Ito gently rounded a turn as he lazily walked to his usual turnaround. A couple hundred yards away, he spotted a figure traveling in the opposite direction. In the dim light, Ito grasped a rough understanding of who he might be.

His clothes were nice and well maintained but dirty from days of travel. On his back rested an awkwardly square pack that rested heavy on his shoulders. Traveling by night, he was clearly on a rather tight timetable. In total, Ito guessed that he was a young merchant.

The two moved closer as neither acknowledged the other’s presence. Only a dozen yards apart, Ito began his ritual.

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