Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars

by Melisse Aires

  “Well, you have inflicted a lot of damage on my body recently.” I smile and stretch though I’m half naked. “But this? No, Jiro. You can pin me down anytime you want.” I raise my eyebrows at him as I find the undershirt and pull it over my head, then step back into my pants. “It was… perfect.” We smile at each other, and Jiro sighs.

  “I admit I want to undress you again and go for round three.” Jiro laughs.

  “Later. I promise.” I’m in trouble with this one. I know where his mind will be from now on, and that’s comforting. I’d rather have him thinking about me than someone else.

  I pull the sheets off my bed, stuff them in the auto-hamper in the hall, and open the small window in my room. No need to advertise to my aunts what we were doing in here this afternoon.

  Jiro is all dressed again, and it’s almost as if he wasn’t naked five minutes ago. I sigh. Too bad really. He has combed through his hair with his fingers and tucked it behind his ears. Looking around the room, he stops at my desk and lightly touches my stationery and all the little gifts I have received from my aunts and friends over the years. It’s so nice to have him here, in my room. He’s even more a part of my world.

  I come up behind him, reaching around to hug him and take the small maneki-neko from his hands. “From Miko, of course,” I say, setting the ceramic cat back down on the desk. When he turns to hug me, I get a good view of his face. “Uh, oh. Your eye is beginning to swell.”

  He goes to the mirror and examines the welt forming under his eye.

  “No matter. It was worth it.” He walks to the front door and slips into his boots. “Shall we go back to Ku 6?”

  “Oh, plans have changed.” This is the time to tell him, but I have a better idea. His katana on the couch reminded me of something. I pull my hair into a ponytail, put my tablet in my bag, and slip into my boots. “Can you come with me down to the catacombs? It’s time I took stock of my family’s belongings.”

  “Sure, love,” he says.

  “I like this new nickname you have for me.” I lean into him and brush my nose across his cheek with a smile. “It’s fitting.”

  “Let’s go before I change my mind about round three.” He opens the door and waves me through, reaching out to smack me on the ass, and I squeal and giggle as I dodge out of the way. I love this new side to our relationship.

  I take him straight down in my building into the lower levels via the elevator, holding his hand the entire time. My family’s storage unit is in Sub-level Three, Section Two. I have never actually been there. When we moved from Ku 5 to Ku 9, Aunt Kimie handled the move including everything in storage. Most likely I’m going to find something to make the news from this morning more real. I’ve never thought to come here before even though I have every right to. I just didn’t care before now.

  We approach the storage unit, and I scan my palm on the pad at the door. The room clicks open with a tiny hiss, and the lights flicker on. I don’t think anyone’s been here in a long time, but hand it to Aunt Kimie to keep the place neat. Everything is boxed up and stacked from the floor to the ceiling all the way back. She was even careful to leave space to walk between some of the biggest boxes.

  “What are we looking for, Sanaa?”

  “Jiro, things came to a head this morning and my aunt confronted Mark.”

  He’s immediately serious, stops me to face him, and crosses his arms. “What happened?”

  “Well, they argued, I eavesdropped, and then I broke in on them. Mark took a bit of convincing, but, eventually, Aunt Kimie told him to tell me the truth about everything.” I turn and start opening boxes, peeking inside. This one has paper books, the one next to it contains cooking pots. I will probably be more lucky with the air-tight boxes towards the back.

  “Sanaa, last night after I got home, I looked up what kiku means in the dictionary. It’s a flower. A chrysanthemum. The chrysanthemum is the symbol of Japan, Sanaa.” I can hear the curiosity in his voice.

  “Yes, Jiro. Help me down with this one?” I point to a large air-tight container stacked on top of two others. I grab one side, and he grabs the other. It’s hefty, though, and comes crashing to the ground, the top jumping open with a pop.

  I kneel down, reach in, and pull out the most beautiful kimono I have ever seen. Multiple layers of heavy fabric, first purple then red and green. Silk and gold threads woven together to give the impression of water flowing over rocks. I flip the kimono over to show the front and numerous sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum kamon drape down each side of the collar. The kimono has to weigh at least 15 kilos. I can barely lift the behemoth, much less wear it.

  Jiro sits down next to me, astonishment passing over his face. “Sanaa, do you know what this is?”

  I would cry, but the shock has worn off. “I do, Jiro. These items belong to my family. I’m the last in the Kiku line. My great-great-great, I don’t know, great times thirty grandfather was the last ruling emperor of Japan.” I concentrate on the kimono. I’m afraid to find out what he thinks.

  I wait and wait, but Jiro is silent for so long I finally raise my head and find him staring at me dumbfounded. “Is this what Sakai told you today?”

  I nod. “Jiro, there’s more…” My voice trails off. How do I even start telling this crazy tale?

  “More what, Sanaa? More kimonos? I can see that.”

  I burst out laughing. Jiro must think this news is so ridiculous nothing can top it, and usually he’d be right. But I have heard so much today that dozens of royal kimonos are actually a bonus.

  He laughs slightly and grasps my shoulders. “Sanaa, what? What else besides this?”

  “Jiro, Sanaa isn’t even my real name. The name was given to me when I was two to protect me from…” I pause to wet my brittle, dry lips. “Being assassinated. Sanaa was my cousin’s name. She died in the same explosion that killed my parents. My real name is Hanako.”

  “Hanako. Didn’t Matsuda call you that?” I nod. Jiro must have overheard the entire conversation. “He knows that this is what you are?”

  I nod again.

  “Hanako,” he says with a puzzled expression. “It doesn’t sound right.”

  “It isn’t. Don’t call me Hanako. I like Sanaa better.” The name was given to me by Sakai, and I am never going to give it up.

  “Little flower,” he says with a smile on his face and a poke in my ribs. Wasn’t he just saying he was glad I was not a withering flower of a girl? I have a bad feeling he’s going to use this to tease me for the rest of my life.

  “No! Not that either.” I laugh and smack his hand away. “Sanaa, Sanaa-chan, Love, or whatever, but not Little flower or Hanako.” Hanako died in the explosion that killed my parents. I am hereby burying her memory with everything else.

  “Jiro, there’s even more to this story.”

  “I bet there is.”

  He is so good at making me laugh, and I smile at him before becoming serious again. “But the other big thing I have to tell you is, with this imperial business, I can never marry legally. Maybe marriage isn’t a big deal, but I know it means more to some people than others.” Sakai never got to marry my mother nor Charlotte and I can tell he wanted to. He regretted it. Maybe Jiro will regret it too. Maybe I will?

  “It’s okay, Sanaa. I knew the minute you pulled out these kimono. Not being able to marry legally is going to be the least of your worries, I'm sure. We’ll find a way around it anyway. Sanaa, you and I will walk a different path.”

  “Jiro, you and me? Together? This doesn’t make you want to run? I wouldn’t blame you. Honestly.”

  “Yes, together,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “You’re the one for me, Sanaa. There’s no one better matched for me than you.”

  Relief. I’m so relieved I’m ready to cry again.

  I pull back and study him closely. He’s not afraid. “So, you don’t think I’m some sort of freak of nature? I mean, I’m the last in this imperial line, Jiro. Think of how completely random that is.”

&nbs
p; “Well, I’m astounded and slightly confused. Yeah, there’s always been something about you, Sanaa, but a freak? No, Sanaa, this changes nothing about the way I feel about you. I love you.” My heart leaps, and I kiss him before I can cry. “This?” He gestures to the box of goods. “This is just… well, it just is.”

  I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and steady myself.

  “We should search the rest of these.”

  All in all, we find ten more kimono, obi, and various other things I’m sure are a part of wearing a kimono including undergarments and a few fans. Ancient lacquerware, brushes for shodō, tea sets, and a whole pile of paper written in calligraphy I can’t read fill multiple boxes, but the last box has what I was hoping for: four katana swords and other fighting weapons. Jiro and I remove each one from the case.

  “What does yours look like?”

  “Here,” he says as he reaches around and pulls the sword off his back. He unsheathes it and places it next to the others. Ah, his sword is stunning, definitely hand-forged and brilliant. He takes great care with the blade, oils and cleans it often. If it has ever seen blood, I can’t tell. Placing the sword gently next to the other four, I realize katana come in different lengths. A few short swords lie in the case so I pull them out too.

  “What are these?”

  “A companion blade. Daishō together, but the smaller of the pairing is the wakizashi. My family has no wakizashi. Traditionally, samurai carried both.”

  I pick up one of the center katana and heft it. It has a shorter blade than the other three but longer than the wakizashi. There isn’t enough room in the storage area with the boxes piled from floor to ceiling, so I won’t be able to put the blade to test here for fear of knocking something over. I step away from Jiro and hold it in several kata positions. First over my head, then with both hands off to the side, and a thrust forward with the tip, but this sword is unbalanced in my hands. It doesn’t feel right.

  I set it down and pick up the next longest. When the sword catches the light, I notice the swirls falling from the tsuba down to the tip of the blade. Near the grip, a signature and the stamp of the royal chrysanthemum are etched into the metal. I show this to Jiro, and he nods.

  “Try this one, Sanaa,” Jiro says, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

  I do the same motions I did with the last sword. This time, though, I feel how right this sword is for me. In each position, it arcs out from my body in the most beautiful way. I hold it out in front of me and swipe down in a quick sweeping motion. The sword practically sings. Immediately, this katana has become an extension of my arm, a piece of my body. I turn it over to examine the blade, pressing my left thumb against sharp ridge.

  “Sanaa!”

  A small line of blood erupts across the width of my thumb. The smallest ounce of pressure can cut skin.

  This is the most lethal weapon I have ever held, and I am paralyzed. When I don’t move, Jiro grabs my hand and presses his thumb on mine. Yesterday, I was certain I had to have my own sword, and now my obsession sits in my hands. Do I love it or do I hate it? The way my chest is buzzing with excitement, I think I’m in love.

  “You’ll want to be careful with this one. It has a hunger for death, but… I believe it’s the right sword for you.” He examines my thumb. Both our hands are bloody now. It won’t be the last time. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you’ll definitely need a bandage.”

  I’m unable to tear my eyes from the katana. “I have one in my bag.” He grabs my bag and rummages through to find a bandage and a handkerchief. I stick my thumb in my mouth and, with my right hand, I lift the katana in front of me and flip it left to right and back again to examine the craftsmanship, the curve of the blade, the perfect diamonds laid out between the leather in the grip.

  “It’s gorgeous, Sanaa,” Jiro says from over my shoulder. He’s been watching the katana as I have been. We’re both in love with each other and our own swords.

  I take my thumb out of my mouth, and Jiro opens the bandage and secures it in place.

  “Are you shocked, Sanaa?”

  “Yes and no.” I sigh, and he nods. I’m sure he is the same way. Shocked to be carrying something so powerful, not shocked because we were meant to do it. “Jiro, have you ever fought someone with yours?”

  He hesitates for a moment. “I have fought two people and injured them both. One is dead by another’s hand. The other lives with a grudge. I never want to kill people, but I would do anything to defend my family… to defend you.”

  “We will defend each other, Jiro. Your lessons will not go to waste.”

  I put the katana — my katana! It definitely belongs to me now — back in its sheath and pick it up, placing it over my head and left shoulder.

  Jiro looks at my sword again, and I smile and pose with a sultry wink. He raises his eyebrows at me and laughs.

  “It’s a good choice. Our swords are similar, almost like they’re related.”

  “The signature stamp is the same on both. I’m sure they are related, probably made by the same person.”

  Jiro smiles. “Meant to be then.”

  We pack everything up and stack the boxes where we found them. The katana, nestled into the crook of my shoulder blade and curved down across the length of my back, hugs me tight. Now is the time to face Sakai and Koichi with my new weapon, my new life.

  * * * *

  On the train to Ku 6, Jiro and I stand close to each other in the corner, and I tell him everything else Sakai told me including the news about my aunt I didn’t know I had, Sakai’s affair with her, their child, and that the explosion that killed my parents wasn’t an accident. I’m thankful for the voices of kids on the train returning home from school. Their clamor covers up our conversation. Tonight, I have to go to Aunt Kimie and figure out what else she has to tell me.

  Jiro leads me into the dōjō, and Sakai and Koichi are already waiting for us. By Koichi’s serious face, I’m sure Sakai has been briefing him of our morning, but they both pale when I enter, take off my coat and bag, and find the sword peeking over my shoulder.

  Sakai strides towards me angry. “Where did you get that? How did you get that?”

  I stop and take a step back, putting out my hand. “Stop, Mark. The sword is mine, and you know it. I went to the catacombs and found my family’s… my belongings.”

  He’s the most furious I have ever seen him, but instead of reaming me out, he turns on Jiro. “How could you let her carry that in the streets? You’re as mad as she is.”

  Jiro raises his eyebrows and freezes in the motion of taking off his coat. “Sakai, you of all people should know no one tells Sanaa what she can or cannot do.”

  I purse my lips and try not to smile. If anyone has my back, Jiro does.

  “They’re mad! Both of them!” Sakai has now turned on Koichi, but the only thing Koichi can do is smile.

  “More like madly in love. Look at them.”

  Jiro and I look at each other. I didn’t think we were being so obvious, but I guess we are. Jiro’s protective stance and the glow radiating from my body give us away.

  Sakai rubs his face with his hands. “You’ll both be the death of me, of that I am sure. Well, let’s see it. Which one did you choose?”

  I take off the katana and give it to him. He holds it out in front of him and slides the blade halfway out of the sheath before wincing and turning away like he’s seen a graphic image. Koichi gives a slow, low whistle. Jiro seems ready to jump up and down with glee. My choice is divisive.

  “Oh Sanaa, really?” Sakai is pained, his voice pleading.

  “She has good taste,” Koichi says, barely containing a laugh. “I thought I would never look upon Kazenoho, and here it is, right in front of me.”

  “Kazenoho? What’s that?”

  “The Wind of Fire,” Sakai says as he examines the blade before pushing it back in the sheath. “Kazenoho. It’s your katana’s name, and boy, did you real
ly have to pick the most famous one there was?”

  “I’m sorry, Mark. I just knew when I held it… this sword belongs to me.” I feel bad for making Sakai visibly upset, but what can I do now? I’m certainly not going to bring it back.

  “Did you know it’s the companion sword to Jiro’s?” Koichi asks. He puts out his hand, and Jiro gives him his sword without objection. Both men unsheathe the swords and look upon them side by side. Sakai sighs wearily again. “They were forged by the same master. Kazenoho and Oninoten together again. I never thought I’d see the day.” Koichi smiles at Jiro and me, pride beaming straight from his face down on both of us. At least one of them is happy.

  “Oninoten?” Jiro asks his father, his brows knitted. “You never told me my sword had a name.”

  I think for a minute, diving deep into my Japanese vocabulary. “The Wind of Fire and Demon of Heaven?”

  Sakai and Koichi nod slowly, becoming serious again.

  “These swords have killed many men, together and alone,” Sakai says as he hands me back Kazenoho.

  Koichi gives Oninoten back to Jiro. “May the gods have mercy on you both.”

  Chapter

  Twenty-Four

  After returning our swords, Sakai and Koichi leave the dōjō together and don’t tell us where they’re going. Jiro and I stand and stare at the door for a bit — the last few hours have been unreal — before we take out our swords and practice kata with them. It’s been a long day already, so we keep the lesson short. He shows me how to secure Kazenoho in my belt, draw it, and re-sheathe it which we weren’t able to do before with the wooden swords.

  Practicing with a real katana is remarkably different but comforting that it’s easier than I expected it to be. The metal blade slices through the air with less resistance, and I never lose my balance when stepping forward or lunging to the side like I had in the past. Kazenoho has changed my center of gravity and become the perfect counterweight to all of my stances. I love it already. I am powerful, alert, ready. Having Jiro next to me with his sword is significant. Together we’re unstoppable.