“Figured out your little secret, eh, Sanaa? Is that Kazenoho?”
Jiro wants me to stay behind him, to protect me, but I can’t let this carry on. Matsuda knows. He’s going to tell someone.
“Would you like me to draw the sword so you can see it? It will not return to its sheath unbloodied, though.”
Matsuda laughs, cold and heavy. “Jiro, got yourself a new student, eh? This one seems to be doing well. Have you taught her all I taught you?”
What’s this? I knew Koichi didn’t train Jiro. Another secret hidden from me.
“And more.” Jiro’s voice is prideful, his chest puffed up. “What are you doing here?”
My mouth is dry, my heart beating wildly, but I still move farther out from behind Jiro. If I’m going to draw Kazenoho, I need the space. “I want to see Sanaa Griffin for myself, the future Empress of our people. Let me get a good look at you.” He reaches out to touch my chin, and I immediately block him with my left elbow. Jiro’s hand flies to Oninoten at his shoulder, and Matsuda takes a step back with his hands up. He laughs again, and I roll my eyes. Who does he think he is?
“It would be best to look at me from a distance. I can’t guarantee Jiro won’t cut you down where you stand if you try and touch me again.”
“The only other person who has ever spoken to me that way was your father.” He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t look a thing like him, though.”
“It’s those strong Asian genes. What do you want?”
“Business, na? Well, I thought I had done away with you, your mother, your family,” he says with disgust, and I have to stop myself from lashing out with a kick to his groin, “but apparently I was wrong. You live and breathe right in front of me.”
“How unfortunate for you,” I say. Jiro is quiet. I wonder what he’s thinking. Be a hardass, Sanaa. “And what will you do with this information?” I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t come here to kidnap or kill me. Not today. He wants something.
“Minamoto, Taira, Maeda. Who will pay the highest price for your life?”
The nervous energy I have is boiling over, causing my foot to tap. I wait. Matsuda loves drama, and he’s dragging this out.
“Minamoto wants you for himself. Taira wants you dead, as I suspect Maeda does.”
“How much?”
“Nani?”
Ah, I’ve caught him off-guard. A lucky break.
“This is a negotiation, right? You tell me how much money or whatever it is you want, and I buy you for myself.” Why didn’t this occur to me before? If I want Matsuda anywhere, it’s in my own pocket, where I can watch him and control him until I kill him.
His face twists, and his eyes fill with hate. I’ve made it sound like he’s a prostitute for hire instead of a ronin, but if he thinks I’ll respect him he’s got another thing coming.
“Name. Your. Price.” I’m so glad I spent all that time watching him. This is a man who values the good things money brings him: the love hotels, the okiya visits, the high priced dinners, the casino debts.
“Hmmm, I’ll consider this change in events and get back to you.” He tilts his head so his hair no longer falls over his eyes and examines me. “To be honest, I expected to come here and find you begging for your life. It’s always much easier to hand over the weak ones to the highest bidder, but…” His voice trails off and he licks his bottom lip. “Jiro, she’s a fine one.”
I can actually sense Jiro’s body clench next to me though we have almost a meter between us.
“Matsuda, you should leave before my hand starts to get twitchy.”
Matsuda is already backing away from us, not even watching the end of the alley. Where is the man I saw there two hours ago? Neither Jiro nor I move until Matsuda’s gone.
“Sanaa, where did that come from?” Jiro’s voice is awed and his eyes wide. “I didn’t expect you to negotiate with him.”
“What, Jiro? It’s called ‘thinking on your feet.’” I can’t even believe I did it. I was possessed, a hell of a lot more confident than I have ever been in my life. “I couldn’t let the opportunity go.”
Jiro laughs in disbelief. “I think you’re better cut out for this job than you ever expected to be.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and directs me to the door. “We have to go inside and talk to Sakai-san. Now.”
* * * *
We slip in the back door, and Jiro immediately ushers me to a private room, but I wait at the door while he goes to Sakai and Koichi at the table. He whispers in their ears, and they jump up and make their way towards me. Jiro then walks straight to Usagi and the security staff at the front, and they all head outside before Sakai pushes me back into the private room.
“What happened? Tell me everything.” Sakai is urgent and awaiting my response, but the gravity of what just occurred outside is creeping up on my brain, and I’m frozen.
“Uhhh.” My eyes won’t focus. My lungs won’t breathe.
“Oh no, she’s in shock,” Koichi says as he lunges forward and grabs me by the shoulders before I fall over. With his arms around me, he lowers me down to sit at the sunken table. “Breathe, Sanaa, before you faint.”
His panicked voice brings me back, and I suck in a low shuddering breath before leaning over and putting my head between my knees.
I can’t do this! I can’t! Run away, Sanaa!
“Sanaa, focus and breathe,” Koichi urges me, squeezing my shoulders hard.
Wait, I can do this. Breathe in and out. In and out. I bring my head up and press down on my eyes forcing them back into focus.
“We were outside talking, and Matsuda approached us from the end of the alley. He saw Kazenoho and realized I knew my secret now. He… my gods, he admitted he killed my parents, tried to kill me.”
My chest is heaving. I’ve never been so angry, so livid in my entire life. Koichi is still holding my shoulders, giving me an anchor, so I don’t float away on a current of hysteria. I don’t know him as well as Sakai, but he’s a part of my family now too.
“My parents! That bastard… That bastard is going to pay.” I’m breathing too much now.
“Sanaa-chan, you’re going to hyperventilate if you don’t calm down.” Koichi smooths down my hair, his thumb swiping cold sweat from my temple. Sakai stands over me, his face a passive Noh mask. He’s regretting ever letting me out of his sight.
“Mark, he wants to sell his information to the highest bidder. I threw our hat in the ring, asked him his price. He didn’t expect it.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what he expected coming here. I think he just wants me, dead or alive.” The way Matsuda looked at me makes me sick. I don’t think it’ll be the last time.
Jiro and Usagi enter the room.
“Three men unconscious. I found them tied up two alleys over. I think they were drugged,” Jiro reports.
Usagi bows to Sakai. “Mōshiwake gozaimasen, Sakai-san. It’s my fault Sanaa-san came in danger. Please do with me as you will.”
Sakai turns to me. Is he consulting me on Usagi’s punishment? Usagi is bent at the waist, not rising. Nothing is his fault.
“Usagi, don’t be ridiculous.” I push back my hair into some semblance of order and wipe off my forehead with the back of my hand. “I was completely safe in the izakaya. It’s my fault we went outside, even if it was out back, and we thought the alley was secure.” I sigh. Will I never have private time with Jiro outside of our apartment? “Go check on the men and the perimeter, and let’s think of how we can avoid something like this in the future.”
“But Sanaa-san?” He rises and looks at me and Sakai, but Sakai shrugs and gestures to me. Way to hand off the duties, Sakai. He wants to make me into a leader, starting now.
“Don’t argue with me, Usagi. We were fine. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. The situation was just unexpected.” Standing up, I straighten out my yukata and go directly to him. “I will hear nothing more about this. I trust you, and Matsuda is… well, he’
s unpredictable. Let’s be unpredictable as well.”
Koichi, Sakai, and Jiro stand speechless as I push Usagi out of the room. I close the rice paper screen almost all the way so they can’t eavesdrop when I bend forward and whisper in Usagi’s ear, “And Helena thinks you’re hot, so you’re not going anywhere.” I slide the door completely closed on his shocked face.
Chapter
Thirty
I wake up the next morning alone in bed. I vaguely remember Jiro getting up a few hours ago, kissing me on the forehead, and leaving, but the memory is blurred by my sleep hangover. Rolling over to look at the clock (it’s already 10:00), I get a better view of my bedroom with the light filtering in from the living area. When we came home last night, I wasn’t paying attention to all of Jiro’s things here, just to Jiro.
Next to all of my items on the desk are a shodō brush, ink set and a pile of paper, a metal bell, a fan, a small stuffed animal (a bunny, kawaii!), and a framed photo of him and Yoichi from when they were younger. Pulling on my clothes, I step out of bed and flip through the pile of paper. Jiro has been practicing writing sutras. His handwriting is lovely, so beautiful and precise. The one on top is the lotus sutra I think, but it’s been a long time since I last read the poem.
I yawn and stretch, and something out of place catches my eye on the shelf. Over next to my omikuji from New Year’s Eve is now Jiro’s. Renai, a blessing in love. I remember him saying, “Maybe I’ll get lucky this year,” and tucking the slip of paper into his kimono. He saved it, too. Gods, that’s sweet.
In the kitchen, Jiro is sitting at the table, reading on his tablet, and drinking hot tea from one of my mugs. He’s already showered and dressed.
“Morning, love,” he says, putting the tablet down. “Good timing. I made you coffee only about half an hour ago.”
“You made me coffee? Looks like I only have to teach Oyama.”
“Yeah, I’m the early riser in the family. Yoichi drinks coffee. I always made it for him.”
I go straight to the coffeemaker and pour myself a cup. It’s strong and dark, just the way I like it. If he had made me weak coffee, we would have been through.
“I hope you like it strong.”
“Yes. It’s perfect.” I let my sleepy face hover over the mug for a minute before taking a sip.
He pulls out the other chair at the table for me, and I sit down but prop my feet up on his lap. “How long have you been up?”
“Since seven. I went next door to talk to Usagi for a bit, and Oyama dropped off food, too.” His hands go to my feet when I remember I’m only ticklish there. I try to pull them away, but it’s too late. I start laughing and quickly put down my coffee before I’m doubled over with giggles.
“Oh! Oh! I’ve found your ticklish spot.” He holds my left foot with an iron grip, and I laugh and kick him with my right.
“Stop, Jiro!” A swift kick lands straight on his shoulder, and he bumps into the table, jostling our mugs, and both his hands let go to prevent them from falling over. I snatch back my feet, but we’re still laughing. I have a strong desire to roughhouse with him right now, even though he’s much stronger than me. We don’t have the time for play. Jiro let me sleep in late.
Still chuckling, he hands me my coffee. “I wonder what Oyama and Usagi think of all the noise we make over here.” His eyebrows go up.
“Don’t care. Let them think whatever they like. They’re not going to question me. In fact, I bet they prefer us this way.” I take a few sips and straighten out my hair.
“I love that about you, Sanaa. You’re wild, and you don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“Well, I do care what you think.” I set my coffee down and stare down at my hands. “Does it bother you I tell you what to do… in there?” I wave my hand at the bedroom.
“Are you joking?” he asks with a laugh, but when I look up at him, the stress clear upon on my face, he becomes serious. “No, it doesn’t bother me. It’s completely and utterly hot, Sanaa.”
A blush blooms on my neck. “Really? Chad hated when I told him what to do. He preferred me silent.”
“Sanaa, please don’t mention him again.” Jiro’s hands are clenched into fists. Shit. He’s jealous. “I realize he was a recent… lover,” he growls, “but I can’t hear about him.”
“There was no love, Jiro.” Joshua didn’t love me, and Chad admired me. Nothing more.
“Okay,” he says, unclenching his fists. “Well, I like wild. Wild and crazy. I love them.” He reaches out for his tablet, our previous conversation put to rest quickly. “Speaking of which, I have something for you. I’ve been looking at images of chrysanthemums, mainly the wild, nogiku, variety. I think this would make the perfect tattoo for you.”
He hands me the tablet and stands up behind me to look over my shoulder.
These are not the chrysanthemums I had seen photos of once Sakai told me what kiku were. Each flower is wispy with long thin petals that curve up from the center, falling in waves from the inner, smaller curled petals to the outer longer, relaxed ones. They are so elegant. Jiro’s painstaking attention to detail makes every petal necessary.
“They’re beautiful, Jiro. Nogiku.” I want to run my fingers over the lines, but that just doesn’t work on a tablet screen.
He moves my hair and traces with his finger a long section along my upper back, skirting the tops of my shoulders and neck. “Here. Quite large for your first tattoo but minimal color, I think.”
“Green and a little purple,” I say with a smile. “When?” I turn and hand him back his tablet.
“As soon as you’d like. I’ll forward the sketch to Manami now. She’s quick.”
“Tomorrow?” I stand up and wrap my arms around him while he tries to type around me. I’m difficult.
“Sure. I bet she could fit you in. She’s done everyone’s in the family. You should see Beni’s.”
The tattoos, they remind me of all of my time spent in Ku 1, how it was all a lie, but a lie to get me to the truth. That Sakai. He tempted me with the promise of knowledge and the revelation of secrets, and I watched and learned for months with no clear purpose or objective. I did the job because I trusted him. I followed these people, now my adversaries: where they went, what they ate, who they spent time with. I probably know them better than they know themselves. Now, thinking of the tattoos, the tattoo parlors, and the men and women I watched come and go from there, I’m sure the negotiation tactic I pulled with Matsuda is not going to last. Letting us buy him off would be no fun for him. And that reminds me…
“Jiro…” I still have my arms around him, my cheek against his chest.
“What, Sanaa?” He sets down his tablet and plays with my hair.
“We talked about a lot last night, but we neglected something… Something you haven’t told me yet.” His hands stop. “Your father didn’t train you in sword fighting. I’ve always suspected. I could tell by the way you two fight — your styles are so different — but I didn’t know who did until last night. Matsuda, ne?”
I squeeze him a little bit tighter even though he is frozen and his body tense.
“Jiro? No secrets between us, remember? Just tell me.” Should I feel guilty for making him tell me everything? Maybe he wants to keep some things to himself. Everyone keeps secrets, but I can’t do this job they want me to do if I’m not completely informed.
“I can’t, Sanaa.” I pull back from him and want to ask him why, but he shakes his head at me. “I can’t because it’s not my secret to tell, but,” he sighs, “you should know, of course. You should know everything. Get showered and dressed. I let you sleep late because you’ve been so tired lately, but we have things to do today. I’ll take you and some food up to my mother’s apartment, and she can tell you everything.”
* * * *
“Mmmm, Oyama. Sanaa-chan, you are one lucky woman. Oyama is the best dokumiyaku and chef in all of Nishikyō.”
Jiro and Usagi dropped me off at Mariko and Koichi’s apartme
nt with a bag full of food and the promise they would be back in an hour and a half to bring me home. I will probably spend the rest of my life in this building, or at least until I’m shuttled off to Yūsei where they will erect another building to contain me for the rest of my life. Sigh.
Mariko lays out a plate of food for me: green salad with a bright orange carrot dressing, dumplings, and a fried tofu dish with fresh broccoli. We sit down at the table and dig into our meals.
Visiting Mariko in her apartment is interesting. Her space is impeccably clean, tidy, and beautifully decorated. Artwork hangs on the walls, mainly paintings, and I wonder how much of it is hers. Jiro’s drawings are here, too; his style is so distinct. I’m going to look at them properly when I’m done eating.
“You thought maybe you’d buy off Tadao Matsuda? Sounds like a gutsy move, Sanaa-chan,” Mariko says, smoothing out the front of her Nishikyō grays as she sits across from me.
“I’d rather keep my eye on him than have him working for any of the other clans, don’t you think?”
“Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.” Mariko smiles, and we both try the dumplings. Delicious.
Mariko is quiet, but I’m learning she’s super bright and sharp. As the matriarch of the entire Sakai family, she has many responsibilities and people to care for. I’m sure if Sakai had ever married, his wife would have done a lot of the same things. The division of duties here is still strong despite women and men being equal in Nishikyō. Like the New Year’s Eve traditions, there are others that never die.
“Well, I regret to tell you there’s history between us and Tadao,” Mariko says. “I believe when I last saw him Koichi told him he’d slice his heart out if Tadao ever got near us again.”
Yikes. Must have been bad.
“Koichi and Tadao were boyhood friends. He worked for Sakai family for most of his life. They were schoolmates, and we were all connected until about eight years ago when Tadao decided to go out on his own instead of working for our family.”
“Why did he decide to leave? That was around the time he married Emiko, right?”
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 36
