Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars

by Melisse Aires

  “I’m sorry, Sanaa-chan. I knew you had to see this even though I didn’t want you to.”

  “Mark, I can’t watch this stuff. I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not the kind that can sit and watch a man being beaten to death over and over.” My hand snaps out at the tablet, and I stab at the video with my finger until it goes away. “Turn it off!” The forcefulness of my stabbing pushes the tablet off the desk with a crash and causes a sob to bubble up.

  Throwing myself at Sakai’s chest, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. I have to feel and hold a real person, and I grip him even harder when his arms wrap around me too.

  “You knew you were going to see this, Sanaa, when you called up the video.”

  “I didn’t think it would be that bad, Mark. I thought… I thought I could handle it.” I pull back from his chest, tilting my head up to find his expression soft and kind.

  “You’re stronger than you think, Sanaa-chan,” he says while smoothing back my hair. “As kids, your mother and I witnessed these sorts of crimes all the time. When you see it enough, you become immune to it, but it doesn’t mean you hate it any less.”

  I should let go of him, but I can’t. I need him. I rest my cheek on his chest and inhale a deep breath. He smells fresh, like his clothes are straight from the auto-hamper. No fear, just comfort.

  “I’m sorry to say you’ll see more of this, Sanaa. There are others in the clans that commit this kind of violence, but stick with Matsuda for now. He’s our biggest offender.”

  I take a step back from him and nod. I’ve seen that cold stare and empty expression and know that Matsuda’s a killer, but the thought of following him makes me want to vomit. I have to be strong. I will be strong.

  The tablet is thankfully not harmed when I grab it from the floor. I set up a series of jobs to follow all of Matsuda’s purchases for the past six months and into the future. When I come in tomorrow, I’ll pick up where I’m leaving off now. I’m going to watch this bastard until I know him better than he knows himself.

  “It’s lunch time, Sanaa. Let’s get something to eat and put this behind us.”

  “Okay, Mark,” I say as I step to him and wipe my tears off the front of his shirt. “Sorry I cried on you.”

  “Please, Sanaa-chan,” he says with a smile. “Anytime.”

  * * * *

  After lunch with Sakai where I stay silent and can’t talk to him because I keep seeing Matsuda in my head, I walk into practice with Jiro, and I can’t concentrate. Can’t think. Can’t react. Jiro sees my distracted state and takes pity on me, not working me through the routines until I’m about to break like he usually would. We sit for a while, and I focus on keeping my shaking hands still.

  “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” he asks as he glances at my hands.

  “Yes and no. It’s been a rough day. I did eventually fall asleep after I looked at your drawing. It’s really beautiful, Jiro. Like amazingly beautiful.”

  “Oh thanks.” He’s a little embarrassed, but I’m not going to lie. I loved his artwork, and I want him to send me more.

  “You’ve only ever shown them to your mother?”

  “Yeah, she’s the other artist in the family. I must have gotten the gene from her.”

  “Did she teach you?” I’ve been forming a picture of this woman in my mind now for weeks. An artist was another thing I hadn’t counted on. I hope I get to meet her soon.

  “She started me on shodō, of course.”

  “… Of course.” Don’t all Japanese kids learn shodō right from the womb?

  “And I learned quickly, but shodō is expensive what with all the ink, brushes, and paper so she taught me how to use the pen on the tablet. I have drawings saved from four years old on.”

  “Wow. That must be an impressively huge collection.”

  “Oh, I’ve deleted tons, but still, yes. It’s a lot.” He’s smiling. If I thought that he loved showing off his tattoos before, I know he’ll show me all of his drawings now. Maybe Jiro needs a friend? It’s moments like these that convince me he’s not romantically interested in me. He just wants someone to share with.

  I lay down on the mat and stare at the ceiling. “I woke up at 4:30 and couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

  Jiro leans back on his elbows beside me. “What’s keeping you awake at night?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say, and it feels like a lie, but, “I’m just… lost.”

  “Lost in someone else’s world.” I think he’s in the same world with me.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure who I am anymore. I watch other people all day; the inner workings of their lives. Where they go, who they eat with, what they do, what they read on the train, how many times they use the bathroom each day…”

  “That explicit?”

  “Jiro, I know more about these people than they know about themselves.” I stare up at the lights, putting my arm under my head and letting out a big yawn. I’m slowing down and should probably get up before I fall asleep. We’re going to have to start practicing again anyway. Yet, I can’t help but close my eyes for a moment…

  Oh no.

  I climb out of a deep sleep and turn my head to the side. Jiro has moved to the mats against the wall and is sketching on his tablet.

  “Jiro?” The sleep has barely left me, and my voice is shaky. I push myself up and groan. “Did I fall asleep? Gomen nasai.”

  “Don’t apologize, Sanaa,” he says, waving his hand.

  I yawn and stretch, rubbing my sleepy face. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  Jiro puts his tablet down and walks over to me. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I know how tired you are.”

  “Jiro, I don’t think Mark or your father would be happy with you taking pity on me.”

  “True, but I don’t care.” He smiles down at me, his hair coming out from behind his ears and sweeping down over his face. Even in my half-asleep state his hair gets me every time.

  I can’t believe I slept in front of him. I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing.

  He helps me up and a wave of dizziness makes me sway, but he grabs me by the shoulders to steady me. “I should walk you to the train, and you should go home and rest. Maybe we shouldn’t meet up tonight?”

  “No, Jiro-kun. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get home and have a shower. You don’t need to walk me to the train. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, I’ll at least walk you out.” He puts his arm around my shoulders, and I’m weak again but not from exhaustion.

  I leave him at the front door and cross the street heading for the station. Turning around, he’s still watching me with a smile. I smile back. How could I not?

  Chapter

  Eleven

  When I arrive at home, my aunts are gone. I check my messages, and Aunt Kimie and Lomo are working late and having dinner together tonight in Ku 3. That’s sweet. I love how much time those two spend together. They are so well-suited for each other.

  After showering, I get dressed in one of my plain black shirts and black pants but grab this gorgeous silk wrap top Aunt Lomo made for me a year ago. It’s a deep gray, the color of burnt incense, and embroidered with a small leaf pattern in silver thread. The sleeves come down just below my elbow with silver button clasps, and the length of the bodice grazes the top of my hips. Aunt Lomo is a fantastic seamstress. I debate whether to pull my hair up or leave it down but ultimately I let it fall down around my shoulders. Jiro only ever sees my hair up at practice.

  I love Izakaya Tanaka and seeing it tonight brings a wide smile to my face. I like it when it’s quiet, not as busy nor crazy as it was on New Year’s Eve. The izakaya is a decent size for a bar and will hold about forty-five people at a time depending on how many want to stand. The ceilings are rather low, and Mr. Tanaka, Miko’s father, had the walls painted a dark color to make the space smaller, cozier. The bar is stocked with many varieties of sake, shochu, and other western mixes. If you lean forward over the bar, you can w
atch all the cooks in the kitchen.

  Miko’s family has been running this place for three generations. It is one of the few places in Ku 7 that’s been around for almost seventy years. Her great-great-grandmother hand-painted the menu signs hanging along the front of the bar, and the family’s collection of golden maneki-neko line the walls above the booths. If I stay till close with Miko, I often take down the noren curtains out front before we lock the place up. They were also painted in a large flowing script by her great-great-grandmother. She was a master with the brush.

  I arrive at seven o’clock full of nerves, and Jiro is already sitting at the bar drinking sake and reading from his tablet. It’s nice to see him in street clothes instead of Nishikyō grays. His black shirt is tight enough to show off his muscular arms and chest, and his black pants fit him perfectly. I don’t know how he manages to be so stylish yet casual. It’s a side I haven’t seen of him.

  I walk in, ducking through the noren curtains, and all the staff shout “Irrashiamase!” and “Sanaa-chan!” at me which makes me laugh out loud. Jiro laughs too, and how could you not with an entrance like that? I walk up and sling my bag across the back of the open chair next to him.

  “Konbanwa, Sanaa-chan.”

  “Konbanwa, Jiro-kun,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. Wow, he’s making me nervous already, and I just saw him a few hours ago. Then I remember I slept in front of him. I should have never closed my eyes.

  Sono appears at the bar and points to his cheek which is my cue to step onto the rung of my chair, lean over the bar, and give him a kiss.

  “Konbanwa, Sono. Ogenki desu ka?”

  “Genki ja no. Sake tonight, Sanaa-chan?”

  “Sukoshi. I’ll have whatever Jiro is having.” I sit down next to Jiro, twisting my hair over my left shoulder out of the way. It’s getting so long now. I wonder if I’ll ever have time to cut it.

  “You’re popular here,” Jiro says as he pours me a drink.

  I smile at two of the waist staff as they walk by with food. “I’ve been coming here for ten years now. Miko and I have been friends for a long time, and I used to help her family before I got full-time work. Speaking of Miko…”

  Miko pokes her head out of the back office and comes our way. Be sweet and kind, Miko.

  “Sanaa-chan, you look lovely,” she says as she leans in and gives me a hug. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Miko.” We smile at each other. It’s a relief to be back here again.

  “We have soy salmon teriyaki tonight. Interested?” Miko asks, always the hostess.

  “Hai, mochiron.”

  She turns to Jiro and all she says is, “Jiro-kun,” squeezing his arm affectionately.

  “Miko-chan,” he replies, and she walks off towards the booths where Yoichi is sitting with friends.

  “Your brother and Miko are still going strong.” Miko slips in next to Yoichi, and he puts his arm around her. They seem very happy. It’s only been ten weeks since they first met on New Year’s Eve, but, for Miko, that’s a long time to be dating the same guy. I have a good feeling about them.

  “Yeah, they are. What did you tell Miko about us?”

  “Us what?” My eyes widen.

  “How we met outside of New Year’s Eve. She said to me earlier, ‘I hear you’re training, Sanaa.’ And I wasn’t sure how to respond so I nodded.”

  I know it’s hard to believe, but I often forget about the lies that fuel my life.

  “I told her I wanted to learn a different martial art and sword fighting came recommended to me. She, well no one, knows what I do with Mark every day.” I drink my sake quickly and set the cup down. This business with Sakai still makes me nervous, and, after this morning, I find it more disturbing than I have the past few weeks.

  “Sakai-san has asked for you to keep all of it secret. Yes, I know. He has asked me to keep the secret as well.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Miko. She accepts I would learn sword fighting all on my own. She wouldn’t expect any other motive than my crazy personality.”

  Jiro smiles at me, disbelief in his eyes. “Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Don’t be so surprised.” I laugh because this is the same conversation we had about Jiro’s drawings. “I love iaido despite how horrible I am at it.”

  “Sanaa-chan, you are crazy,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re one of my best students ever. I’ve never seen anyone pick up the forms so quickly. Especially someone who wasn’t brought up to sword fighting.”

  This is comforting. In all our time training, Jiro never opens up and tells me I’m doing well. He usually just says, “Good, now let’s move on to this,” and continues to push me harder and harder. It’s probably my own fault because I’m stubborn and have been pushing myself as hard as he pushes me. Still, I love the way he guides my arms or body into the correct positions. Every time he touches me I try not to melt into a puddle on the floor. Our practice sessions are full of conflicting emotions for me.

  “Thank you, Jiro. I had no idea.”

  While he fills up our cups, plates of food arrive for each of us. Miko ordered the exact same meal for both Jiro and me, and it makes me smile. She always knows what’s best on the menu.

  “Eat,” I say, pointing my chopsticks at his dish. “You’ll love it.”

  A minute of silence stretches between us while I watch him. Gods, he’s gorgeous. I’m in trouble.

  “Jiro, what do you do for your family?” I ask amid bites of food and sips of sake. His chopsticks halt in mid-air halfway to his mouth, and he lowers them back to the plate. Uh oh. “Gomen, Jiro-kun. Maybe I shouldn’t ask about such things.”

  I immediately regret opening my mouth and prying into his life. His face flattens and eyes dull, like he did in the first weeks we trained together.

  “No, Sanaa. You’re bound to find out sooner or later. I don’t have a proper job, but my role in the family has always been the successor. I accompany Sakai or my father to all of their meetings and usually with my sword. I’m the most trained in my family. I bested Yoichi and my father at the age of twelve,” he says with a grin.

  I look over at Yoichi’s smiling face and have trouble imagining him sword fighting, but I’m sure anyone who looks at me would think the same thing.

  “I was meant for sword fighting. I’m a whole person when I’m carrying one. I am always there for important meetings, and I know more than I should, but that’s mostly intentional. At this point, I’m next in line after Sakai.” He drains his cup, and I reach out and fill it for him. The gesture makes him smile. “The family business is harsh. We work with all three clans. Minamoto fights with Taira over property sales. Maeda fights with Minamoto over use of okiyas and theaters. Minamoto and Taira fight with Maeda over the gaming. They are all clamoring at Sakai for equal representation with Coen-sama…”

  “That’s what Mark does every day when he leaves me in Ku 1.”

  It’s easier to eat now that Jiro is talking to me even if it’s not exactly a happy subject. I quickly finish off my meal and push the plate away from me.

  “Yes, he meets with her at least once per day. Nishikyō may be filled with all creeds, races, religions, but Japanese rule here. Never forget that.”

  “Are you angry, Jiro-kun?”

  “Yes and no. It’s the way things are. Coen-sama is a puppet. She rules because the clans let her. The only thing she ever did to defy them was to put Yamada-san in charge of colonization, and you see where that got her. Did you know he died today?”

  “No. I didn’t have time to check the news today. That poor man. I always liked him. But wait, are you saying Yamada-san was murdered?”

  We both stare at each other.

  “I know Yamada was murdered. Most likely by Minamoto, by Tadao Matsuda. Do you know him?”

  I nod very slowly. Do I ever know him.

  “He has extensive martial arts training. I suspect he thinks of himself as a modern day
ninja, but he’s for hire which makes him dangerous. He’s clever, though. He never acts when someone is watching.”

  Or when he thinks no one is watching. Hideo’s bleeding face and Matsuda’s vacant stare fill my thoughts, and all the blood is draining from my head. Push it away, Sanaa. Don’t remember. Not now.

  I quickly fan myself with my hand and take a deep breath.

  “Are you all right, Sanaa-chan? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

  “Yes, I, uh…” What do I tell him? He obviously knows about Matsuda, knows what he’s capable of. I want tell him about what I saw this morning, but I can barely bring myself to think about it, much less describe it in actual words. “I’ve had a rough day, Jiro,” I say with a sigh. I just can’t talk about it. I’ll watch it. I’ll get used to it like Sakai wants me to. That’s all I can do.

  “You said that earlier, too. What happened? Will you tell me?”

  My eyes are starting to tear, and I shake my head.

  “You know, when your face goes all pale like that your freckles stand out.” He turns to me, and a blush comes to replace the blood my head lost. “I like them. They’re very kawaii.”

  I wish I could breathe. I’ve gone from being sickened by thoughts of Matsuda to being complimented by Jiro in the span of ten seconds. Up until this moment, I thought I was doomed to be his friend the rest of my life. My hand touches my nose, and then I lower it self-consciously.

  “I got them from my mother.”

  “Really? I would think you got them from your father. He was English, right? I don’t see many Japanese girls around Ku 6 with freckles.”

  “No,” I say, thinking this statement is awfully damning of my being non-Japanese especially after our discussion in Ku 10. My soaring hopes of romance come crashing to the ground. “And I’m not like the other girls in Ku 6.”

  “No, you’re not,” he says with a smile and a shake of his head, and my stomach collapses.

  “Jiro, I am never going to be as Japanese as you want me to be.” My temper is rising, and I have to breathe to keep it down, even though shock comes over Jiro’s eyes and his jaw drops. “I wasn’t raised in Ku 6. I didn’t go to the festivals as a kid. I never celebrated Hinamatsuri or Bunka no hi. Never went to the concerts or gone to any of the plays. It’s… it’s not the way I want to be, but it’s the way I am.”