“You wouldn’t beat me, would you?”
He laughs and lunges at me from the right.
After weeks and weeks of fighting with Jiro, he has worn me down, worn away my fear of hurting him, worn away my worry of having to defend myself. He has made me strong in a way I never thought I could be. Even all of those years of karate training have not brought me a tenth of the confidence sword fighting has.
Jiro slows down and circles me to the right, keeping his eyes on me. When he’s ready, he nods his head left or right, indicating which way he will come at me. After an hour of this, though, the maniacal glint is in his eye again, so I attack first, faster and faster. I’m having so much fun I’m actually laughing as he blocks each of my movements, especially when I get close to getting a hit on him.
The fighting mania is building up between us, and it’s starting to bring up the exhausted giggles in me.
“Stop, Jiro.” I laugh and wheeze, throwing myself down to the mats in exhaustion. “I can’t take much more of this.”
But Jiro is not done. Moving to the other side of the room, he bounces on his toes and actually runs at me from the front. I roll over in time for his feet leave the ground, jumping in a high arch toward me, sword above his head. He is at once awe-inspiring and fearsome. The corners of his mouth curl up, no doubt due to the wide-eyed panic coming over me.
Scrambling backwards, I lie flat on the ground and bring my sword up to block him. With a thump, his feet land on either side of my head but our swords never touch. He has come to a halt a millimeter away from me.
I can barely breathe witnessing the determination in his eyes, the way his body heaves with every breath. Wow, he’s impressive.
“Jiro, who taught you how to fight like that?”
“You should see your face right now,” he says, straightening up with a shake of his head. “You could learn to fight like this, too.”
I try to imagine myself fighting like Jiro, and I can’t. He was born to do this. I’m struggling to keep up. I’m so glad he’s on my side. I’ve only skimmed the surface of what he’s capable of. If he were my enemy, I should be terrified.
“I think we’re done, Sanaa. It’s almost five.”
I close my eyes and sink into the mat. “I’m just gonna lie here until someone comes and scrapes me up.”
He pokes me in the stomach with his foot, and I laugh again. This is much better than any of our previous training methods. I like being happy.
I push the sword away from me and come up to seiza. Moving into meditation is hard considering I’ve been laughing, but Jiro’s steady breathing brings me back.
“Sanaa, you have learned the fastest of anyone I know.”
“After seeing you fight like that, Jiro, I realize I’ve learned so little.”
“Don’t be down on yourself. You’ve haven’t been fighting for very long. Besides, you had karate training before this so you had an advantage that I never had.”
“You’ve never learned to fight hand-to-hand?” I ask, pulling myself up from the floor. I’m going to be sore again tomorrow.
“No, I’ve only been trained in the way of the sword. Iaido is the purest form of swordsmanship, but I learned its predecessor kenjutsu and kendo from a young age. Yoichi is quite good. He used to beat the crap out of me when I was younger. Not so much anymore.”
He grabs two towels for us, and, as we’re drying off, Sakai and Koichi enter the room. Though we’re not in a formal dōjō setting, it’s hard to break with tradition. We both come to attention and bow to Sakai and Koichi who bow back. They kick off their shoes at the edge of the mat and set them aside.
“Sanaa, we may have a problem we have to deal with.”
My heart immediately seizes. What is this? Jiro is puzzled, his eyebrows drawing together, but he stays silent. Sakai comes right to me.
“Your aunt has been following you around all day.”
My heart beats again but sinks to my stomach. Aunt Kimie. She, no doubt, suspected something when I came home last night. I had a feeling she hadn’t been up reading for no reason. Oh no...
“She wasn’t at home this morning when I got up. Damn, I should have known. She hates being up early.”
“She was probably waiting for you to leave the apartment and then followed you to the dōjō.”
“Did she follow us to Ku 1 and here?”
“Yes, I caught sight of her as we were entering just now. I’m sure she suspects something is going on with you.” Sakai and Koichi contemplate each other but don’t speak. They know Aunt Kimie. She is persistent, just like me.
“Come to think of it, she may have been suspicious awhile back. She said she came by work to have lunch with me, but I wasn’t there. I told her I was working off site. I guess she didn’t believe me.”
“Sanaa, you have got to get better at lying. You have tells all over your face.”
Shit. I thought I was getting better at it.
“A terrible poker player,” Koichi says. He clasps Jiro on the shoulder. “Have you been practicing?” The gleam in his eye tells us he doubts it.
“Yes. Yes, we’ve been practicing. Sanaa is ready for the more advanced set, I think. We’ll start work on it in a few days.”
“Excellent. Let me know, and I will join you again to assess her progress.”
“So, your aunt. You will need to ditch her on your way home,” Sakai says, bringing his hand to his chin.
“Jiro and I are going to have dinner together,” I say, as I put my shirt back on and button it up.
“You can still do that. Leave at different times. Go in opposite directions. Sanaa, walk fast and take the train. Switch cars multiple times and backtrack. Make it last at least thirty minutes before you pick up your way to wherever you plan on going.”
I nod and map out the transitway system in my head. It’s about to be rush hour. I can lose Aunt Kimie quickly.
“Jiro, from now on, when you accompany Sanaa anywhere in Ku 6, you will carry your sword.”
“Wakarimasu.” Jiro’s face tightens, and he reaches for his shirt.
Sakai turns to me. I push my nervous tension way to the back of my mind and try to concentrate. “Message me when you get where you’re going. I’ll tail Kimie until I’m sure she’s lost you.”
I grab my bag and pull Sakai towards the door.
“Mark, where were you now? With Koichi?”
“Sanaa-chan, I’m not prepared to discuss business with you right now.”
“Business? Mark, I know it involves me somehow and you keeping me in the dark is pissing me off.”
He stops, but doesn’t say anything.
Nothing. I’m getting absolutely nowhere with him. Sakai! You are so frustrating!
“Mark.” I put more urgency, as much as I can, into my voice. “These last twenty-four hours… you’re really scaring me… with Matsuda, and Jiro being armed, and now Aunt Kimie is following me, too? I can’t help but think about what happened to my parents and…”
Sakai sighs deeply, and his head dips low. It’s such an instinctual Japanese gesture to bow when we’re upset, embarrassed, apologetic, or humbled. It’s also used to cover up our feelings when we don’t want another to read the emotions scattered across our face.
“It wasn’t an accident that killed my parents.” This is it. I’m sure of it. This is why he refuses to talk to me.
He is not looking up.
“Mark. Look at me!” I yell so forcefully both Jiro and Koichi at the back of the dōjō stop dead in their tracks.
Sakai still does not move. “Mōshiwake nai, Sanaa-chan. Mōshiwake nai.”
My body springs forward of its own accord, and I push Sakai so hard he stumbles back and hits the wall. “How can you just stand there and apologize to me without even talking to me? Don’t you have any respect for me at all?”
My hand comes back, a blind rage overcoming me, and I’m moments from smacking him across the face when Jiro grabs me from behind and lifts me from the mats.
My feet get no purchase, and I kick and scream, bucking my body back against Jiro who is trying hard to hold on to me.
“Sanaa-chan, please,” Jiro pleads as he quickly carries me to the other side of the room, as far from Sakai as we can possibly get. “Please stop.” He doesn’t have to beg me. I’m already sobbing, the fat tears bursting from my eyes and landing on the mats in front of us. I let my body go limp, and Jiro’s restrictive hold loosens and becomes a hug as he lets me fall slowly to the floor.
“Oh, Mark, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Now I’m the one who can’t look at him. Why did I have to hit him? Resting my head on my arms, I cry into my sleeves. Jiro kneels down next to me and places one hand on my back. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. This time to everyone.
“Don’t be sorry, Sanaa.” Sakai’s voice is very far away. “I deserve that. I deserve a lot more than that.”
Pulling my head up from the mat, I swipe my hand across my face and then my sleeve too because I’m a fountain of tears and snot and sweat. Sakai has not moved from where I pushed him. Koichi has turned from me and faces the wall. I have done something so harmful, it’s unspeakable.
“Don’t hate me, Sanaa. I promised…” Sakai’s voice catches and he stops, straightening up a little more. “I promised your mother I would take care of you. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Without saying another word, he turns and walks out.
At least ten seconds of complete silence pass before I sniff, my breath shuddering in my chest and throat. I can’t even look at Jiro, but then his fingers are on my neck, pushing my hair off and to the side.
“Sanaa-chan, let’s stick to the plan. Come.” Jiro gives me his hand and pulls me up. He grabs a fresh towel from the rack, leads me back to the door, and places the towel in my hands. “Go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. When you’re ready, leave and circle out to Ku 3, then 1, and then come back.”
I nod silently and sniff. I must look terrible. Jiro smiles at me and places his hand on my shoulder.
I’m completely stupid for wrecking the somewhat normalcy of this day, and I want to bring it back so badly. I want to go back to the kissing before practice and start over. My stupid temper has gotten me in trouble again.
“Where should we meet up for dinner?” I ask, taking a deep breath.
“My favorite tempura place is a few blocks away, but I want you to meet me right back outside here, okay?”
“Okay.” I smile at him remembering our night at the okiya and he smiles back sadly. “I can never get enough tempura.”
“I know you love it, and I’m glad I can treat you.” He leans in and kisses me on the forehead, and I close my eyes and concentrate on that spot before heading to the bathroom.
Chapter
Nineteen
It takes me ten minutes to recompose myself in the dōjōbathroom. For a dōjōso austere and simple, the bathroom must have been designed and built by the Itōs long after they took ownership of this building. Dark stone tiles, softly lit rice paper lanterns, and white porcelain greet me when I walk in. I strip down naked wrapping the towel around me and place all of my clothes in the auto-hamper. They’ll be clean and dry in five minutes.
While I wait, I splash water on my face, wash it and my hands, then finger-comb my hair. It’s a mess again. I separate it down the center and do two twists, one on either side of my head, glad I keep extra ties in my bag. I quickly wipe myself off and eye the shower in the corner. No time to use it today. I’ve actually never had the time to use it, though I’ve needed it on more than one occasion. I’ve seen Koichi come from this bathroom twice with his short hair spiky and wet. I’m sure he spends a lot of long hours here. I hope Mariko is not too alone at home without him.
The auto-hamper pings with a hiss of steam, and my clothes come out hot and dry. I put them on after shaking them a few times to cool them off. Before I exit the building, I knock on the dōjō door, and Jiro is sitting against the wall with his tablet.
“Kiotsukete, Sanaa. I’ll see you soon.”
“Jya ne, Jiro.”
I don’t want to leave him and walk around the city for half an hour while trying to ditch my aunt, but I have to.
I follow Jiro’s instructions and am back on the streets of Ku 6 within twenty min. The trains were packed with people but moving quickly this evening. I didn’t notice any signs of Aunt Kimie, so I head straight for the dōjō. When I get to the storefront, Jiro steps out, and I’m breathless at the sight of him. I’ve never seen him carrying his sword in person, and if I thought he was handsome and sexy before I saw him armed, I’m dead gone now.
He steps forward and pulls me towards the door alcove, directing me to the corner.
“Jiro, I… what?”
Moving slowly to the threshold of the sidewalk, he pokes his head out and surveys the area. It’s only about six o’clock, and plenty of people are still on the streets, but it’s March, and the light is waning already at this time of the day. Most of the shops and their signs are lit up, and the convenience store three doors down is blasting music into the street. A couple, arm-in-arm, walks by slowly, laughter trickling behind them as the woman lays her head on the man’s shoulder.
“Is anyone there?” I whisper.
“No. Matsuda left right after you and went in the opposite direction. I think you lost both him and your aunt in one go.”
He turns to face me, and I rise up to my tip-toes so I can get a better look over his shoulder. My right hand clutches his shirt front. I pull him closer and reach up with my left to lightly caress the grip. It’s beautiful.
“This is your sword, Jiro? Your very own?”
He reaches down and loosens my hand from his shirt, lacing his fingers with mine. When I look at him, he’s examining me closely.
“Sanaa, you’re not frightened by this at all?”
“Frightened? No no no, Jiro. Quite the opposite,” I say, shaking my head. I release my left hand from the sword and run my fingers through his hair at the back of his head. It’s damp, but he smells like soap again. He got to shower while I was running around.
“Really?” His eyebrows rise up, and I pull him towards me.
“I want my own, Jiro. I have to have one.” I also want him take it out and use it in the worst possible way. Wherever these dirty thoughts are coming from, I hope they never stop.
Relief sweeps over his face, and his hand tightens with mine. “I felt the same way the day I saw my father carrying his. I wanted one right away, and I would do anything to get it. You and I are much more similar than I ever thought.”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever get one.” I fear this is going to be one of my new obsessions. Getting a sword will be harder than the other obsession building since yesterday: persuading Jiro to sleep with me. The way we’re pressed against one another right now, I give us twenty-four hours.
“Maybe your family has one or Sakai has one for you.”
Sakai. I sigh and rest my forehead on Jiro’s chest.
“Sorry, Sanaa,” Jiro says, hugging me. “I had almost forgotten about what happened today.”
“It’s okay, Jiro. Let’s go eat before we pass out from hunger.”
Jiro and I leave the front of the Itōdōjō and cross the street. Weaving in and out of a few old men and women shopping for fruits and vegetables at the grocery, he leads me down a back alley to the next street over. We stick close to the buildings, sidling around neatly stacked crates and garbage cans, staying in shadows and walking alleyways. Jiro stops me across the street from our destination. Pressed into the doorway of a closed business, we watch the restaurant for a minute before crossing over to it. He is so cautious. I wonder how often he does this sort of thing.
When we enter, Jiro waves to a young man who is clearing a table, heading straight for an open booth in the corner. I sit on the inside with Jiro next to me, and his sword is now propped next to his leg under the table. No one in the restaurant batted an eye at it.
I love this place already, smal
l and cozy, painted in warm tones with low ambient lighting. One bank of tables line the front window. Booths are along the back wall, set apart from each other with tall seat backs and latticework above our heads. The dinner crowd is happy but not too loud. Everyone with the exception of two people are Japanese.
He takes my bag and sets it next to his on the opposite side of the table.
“Oh, grab my tablet, please.” He hands it to me, and I type out the message to Sakai that he has asked for. Upon checking my inbox though, I find a message from him I read to Jiro: “Kimie watched you exit the building and went immediately back to Ku 9 from there.”
“Excellent. Let’s hope that’s the end of that.”
But it won’t be the last of Aunt Kimie. She will not rest until she has it all figured out.
My chest constricts at the thought of confronting her with all I’ve been up to, and my hands shake. I attempt to cover up the movement by clutching the tablet, but Jiro sees it. He removes the tablet from my hands and places it on the opposite side of the table.
“You’re hungry. Let me order some food.” He gestures to a young waitress across the room. “Asa-chan!”
She comes over quickly. “Jiro-san, ohisashiburi desu ne. Ogenki desu ka?”
Jiro said he had been here before and something tells me it’s been often. I try not to narrow my eyes at this pretty thing who is being extra flirtatious to Jiro with her smile and wink.
“You know me, Asa-chan, always genki. Yasai tempura ya gohan o futatsu kudasai. Eto, sake no 300 millimeter o kudasai.”
Asa’s face falls slightly at the sight of me. Jiro not bothering to indulge her grand hospitality is perfect. The jealous dragon in my chest sits down defiantly. He’s mine. Back off.
“Mizu mo,” I say, smiling slightly at her. I need water. I’m parched from today’s workout.
Asa leaves, and I start thinking about food, and my grumbling stomach.
“Mmmm, vegetable tempura, rice, and sake. I am starving, Jiro-kun…”
“You don’t need to be formal with me when it’s just us, Sanaa.” He smiles, placing his hand on my knee.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 26
