He'd been rising later and later with each passing day, trying to ready his body and mind for war. The look on Oda's face still haunted him. That smug visage, as he'd been forced to turn away. He had no current obligations. He left it to his subordinates to prepare what was necessary.
Imagawa was a large man, there was no question about it. He dwarfed his four-poster western-style bed, enjoying its luxury. It was one of the few things – as he put it – that the west had got right. His serving women were in constant fear of being crushed, as this walrus of a man turned over.
With his lack of true responsibilities and activities to fill his day, he turned his hand towards experiencing newer and greater pleasures, and as such, pleasuring the Daimyo had become quite the dangerous task indeed, as he resorted to more exotic, and violent methods of satisfying his lust.
