Sho put a hand over Aoki’s delicate wrist and patted it before letting his hand drop to his side. “I’m the one who should thank you.”
Aoki sighed. He set the cloth aside and once again, his hand went to the twine-wrapped half stone and fingered it. Moments passed with Aoki holding the stone and staring at it again. The young man was truly transfixed with the stone and what it meant.
Hirata’s heart sped up. How much had Sho told him? And if the stone meant so much that he actually wore it around his neck and had told Aoki their story, then why would he have so horridly, cruelly denied their reunion?
“Jiro-san, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What will you do if he finds you?” The dreamy sound returned to Aoki’s voice. “Will you run into his arms?”
Sho paused. “I always imagined I would. But now….” Sho fell silent for several moments. He gently plucked the stone from Aoki’s fingers and held it. “I think that I’d be so shocked I wouldn’t be able to do anything except pretend he wasn’t there.”
Chapter Four
HIRATA NEARLY slipped from the roof. His new torrent of emotions blended with Aoki’s surprised, “Ohhh!” A moment of quiet passed before Aoki spoke again.
“Are you so sure, Jiro-san?” Aoki sounded genuinely perplexed. “I can’t imagine that of you.”
Hirata steeled himself and listened, his eyes squeezed shut, desperate for one word from Sho that he’d been overjoyed to hear his friend’s voice after so many years apart.
Sho sighed. “Perhaps I can’t be absolutely sure, but you must understand, I’m no longer the child he once knew. Life has changed me. I’m not… someone… he’d want to know.”
Aoki lowered himself to the futon and snuggled up to Sho. “With all respect, Jiro-san, that cannot be true.” Aoki stroked Sho’s arm as they lay together, their bodies fitted back to front, Sho behind Aoki. “I believe he’d love you no matter what you’ve become. And I can say from my own experience that you are one of the kindest men I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you, Aoki-san. But if he does not see what I’ve become, then he’s more blind than I am, even with the use of his sight.”
Hirata pulled in a breath. Is that why Sho had rejected him? Because he felt unworthy of his friend’s love and devotion? Hirata swore to himself to prove Sho wrong.
“Just the fact that you still wear your half of the stone proves how you feel,” Aoki murmured.
“It proves nothing of the sort, Aoki-san.” Sho ran one hand down the sleek fall of Aoki’s hair. “It reminds me of the boy I was when he broke the stone. I remember how the joy and freedom of childhood was cruelly robbed from us, lest I dare to forget. But even if I didn’t use the stone as a reminder, I promised him I’d have it with me always. The least I can do is keep my word.”
“Ohhh,” Aoki crooned again. “Jiro-san.”
Sho lifted a long strand of Aoki’s hair and rubbed it against his cheek and then his lips before releasing it. He really seemed to love the other man’s long hair, as if the mere feel of it brought him comfort.
Hirata looked away from the window. He remembered how one of his first thoughts years ago was that the anma Ichi would shave off Sho’s beautiful hair.
“Don’t you worry about me, Aoki-san,” Hirata heard Sho say, “I’ve learned to take care of myself quite well. And you have a shining career ahead of you.”
“You’re very kind, Jiro-san. And I do hope you’re right. About everything.”
“So do I. But now I must leave.”
Hirata snapped to attention.
“Oh, no, Jiro-san, please, not yet! Please, stay a little while longer and let me serve you a meal.”
In Aoki’s plea, Hirata could hear how fond the young actor was of Sho. Perhaps even in love with him.
“I know it’s unseemly to beg you this way to stay, but….” Aoki sighed. “Your company is so welcome. No extra charge,” he added in a loud whisper.
Sho put a hand on Aoki’s arm. “I brought extra with me. I want you to take some and hide it away to help you. I want you one day to be free to wait for your samurai.”
Aoki gave Sho’s arm a playful tap, though his expression showed he was moved. “Ohhhh, there you go again, being the kindest man in the world.”
Sho laughed softly. “All right, Aoki-san. I’ll stay and accept your hospitality.”
Aoki squealed and scrambled to his feet. “Oh wonderful!” He snatched up his kimono, threw it on and then covered Sho’s lower body with the blanket. “I won’t be but a few minutes. Just rest, Jiro-san.”
“Thank you.” Sho lay back, hands folded behind his head.
Hirata sat back against the wall again and exhaled. In the background, he heard the light scrape of the shoji door sliding open and then closed again. Then quiet. He kept his eyes closed, grateful for the light breeze that passed over him, easing the burn of the sun baking on the clay tiles of the roof.
“Spying on me, are you, Hirata?” Sho’s voice close to his ear made Hirata jump.
“What?” Hirata jerked around and looked through the window slats. Sho’s face met his gaze inches away on the other side. “You knew I was here?”
“Of course I did.” Sho paused. “You still… smell the same.”
A ripple of heat passed through Hirata’s body. When they were children, just after Sho was blinded, Sho had once told him he smelled like water and air mixed with Hirata. When I smell you nearby, I feel safe, Sho had said. Hirata had never, ever forgotten that. “Oh,” he breathed. Then he remembered Sho’s cruel deception. “You knew it was me the whole time, from the moment I approached you, didn’t you?”
Sho sighed. “Of course I knew. You’re… inside of me.”
“Then why did you deny me?”
“Hirata, you mustn’t try to go backward. You heard what I said to Aoki. I’m not the same person you once knew. That boy was… innocent.”
Hirata paused at the flash of sadness in Sho’s voice. “I don’t care. I’ve searched for you ten years.” Hirata fought to keep emotions from flooding him so deeply that he couldn’t speak. “We can be together again now.”
“No. Please. Don’t do this. Just go home. You have a place. Your father’s school. You’re a samurai. Walk your path, Hirata. And let me walk mine.”
“My path is with you!” Hirata trembled with the force of his emotions.
Sho momentarily bowed his head and released another sigh, this one of obvious frustration. “This is just like you, Hirata. Have you never grown up, even a little? I may be blind in my eyes, but you’re blind all over. You see one thing and charge for it, ignoring everything else. You’re still that boy who dragged me under the house so that Ichi-sensei couldn’t take me with him.”
“And you were glad I did. You felt safe. You felt that one person in the entire world loves you enough to risk his name, his honor, his family. For you.”
“I’ve outgrown that childish mentality.”
Hirata steeled himself against the sword of Sho’s words. “You say all this and yet you still carry the stone, around your neck no less.” He pressed closer to the window, half in challenge, half in desperation. “Tell me in all truth that you’re only wearing it to keep your word and not because you… love me.”
Sho didn’t answer immediately. A shadow seemed to pass over his features before he spoke. “My word is all I have left, Hirata. You see where I’ve been. What I’ve become. In one afternoon, you’ve watched me gamble and then spend my winnings here where I….” He paused. “You realize what Aoki is, don’t you?”
“He’s… an actor.”
“Yes, but that’s not all. Why do you think I gambled for the extra coins? His affections aren’t free.”
“All right. He’s a kagema. But I don’t care. Why should I?”
“Hirata, please.”
“Sho, I beg of you—”
“Jiiirrooo-sannn, I’m baaaack!!”
“Please go,” Sho hissed and turned from the wi
ndow.
Aoki came in bearing a tray and set it down by the rumpled bed. “Were you getting some fresh air, Jiro-san?”
“Yes.” Still naked, Sho crawled on his hands and knees the short distance back to the futon.
Hirata’s heart ached. Sho’s words hurt more than any physical pain he’d ever experienced. The way he felt in this moment, he imagined death to be a sweet escape. Perhaps that’s what he should do, crawl off into the woods somewhere and commit seppuku.
Unable to remain a moment longer on the roof, he carefully climbed down. But instead of going off the way he’d imagined, to end it all, he found he couldn’t tear himself away and ended up waiting across the street, hiding himself around the corner where he could peek out from time to time to see when Sho left Aoki.
Finally, when the sun had begun to sink behind the buildings, Sho appeared from between the noren curtains at the entrance of the kagema house. He trudged down the center of the main street with his usual measured steps, tapping the cane in front of him.
Hirata followed at a safe distance, leaving what he guessed was enough space so that Sho couldn’t smell him nearby.
Sho continued on, past the end of the town, between the posts that denoted the main entrance, and onto the road. The bustle of the town receded the farther they went until nothing remained on either side except meadows and forests, the sweeping landscape all ringed in by the distant mountains.
Where could Sho possibly be going at this hour? Why wouldn’t he have remained in the town and plied his trade or taken a room at an inn?
A breeze passed over them and died down. Sho halted.
Hirata ducked behind a nearby tree and watched.
Sho turned around slowly and retraced his steps until he was closer to the tree. “Hirata, you must stop following me.”
Hirata stepped out from behind the tree, feeling ridiculous. Trying to hide from Sho was fruitless. Sho’s senses were so sharp, he was more perceptive than any sighted person Hirata had ever known. “I can’t stop, Sho-chan. I… need you.”
Sho’s features tightened momentarily and an odd look passed over his face. “That can’t be. You’re a samurai. You can defend yourself. Your family has money. They love you. What could you possibly need me for?”
Hirata dared to step closer. “My heart needs you. My soul needs you. I’ve been half a person since you were taken away.”
Sho’s face darkened. “Hirata, please, I beg you….” Without another word, he turned and began walking again, this time veering off the road into the meadow.
Hirata hurried after him. In his mind, he scrambled for something to say, something to make himself necessary to Sho so that Sho would agree at least to let him stay nearby. “Sho-chan!”
Sho ignored him and kept trudging along a narrow path worn in between the tall grasses.
“At least let me protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” Sho called back.
But Hirata couldn’t imagine that. A blind man traveling with just a cane for defense was an easy target. He remembered the wanted poster he’d seen in the post town. “Yes, you do! There are criminals roaming the countryside. Dangerous ronin who murder people. I saw the shogun’s announcement.”
“Believe me, I can defend myself just fine.”
Hirata rushed along, trailing Sho at a small distance. “How can you? Against a gang of five bloodthirsty samurai?”
“Stop following me, Hirata.”
“You heard the anma,” a gruff voice said. “Stop following him.”
Hirata found his way suddenly blocked by a hulking figure. And another. A glance ahead of him revealed three more figures, all surrounding Sho. Ragged hair swept up in the samurai’s topknot yet filthy, loose strands wildly framed their stubbled faces. Murder in their eyes. Swords brandished.
The five wanted killers.
“Sho!” Hirata shouted.
“I’m all right.” Sho stood, his shoulders slightly hunched, seemingly frozen. He tilted his head, listening the way he had in front of the gambling hall when he’d first sensed Hirata’s presence.
“Give us your money,” one of the ronin said, the shortest of the group with the face of a demon, his filthy kimono gaping open, “and we might decide to let you both live.”
“I have no money.” Hirata took what was meant to be a threatening step forward. “Leave us in peace.”
The short samurai laughed, a mocking tone. “But the anma has money. We heard talk of the blind anma who cleaned up today in the gambling hall.”
“I spent my money today on a prostitute,” Sho said, not an ounce of fear in his voice, “so if you want to live, you should just take my word and go.”
The dog-faced short man laughed. Apparently he was the leader of the murderous band. “You’re threatening us, blind man? That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard in a long time. Give us your money or you’re dead.”
“Have you no hearts?” Hirata choked out. “Threatening the life of a blind man?”
Shorty laughed. “Blind, sighted. It’s all the same to us. We don’t give a—” His eyes went suddenly wide. His mouth gaped open. A second passed and his head tipped, tumbled off his neck, and hit the dirt road. His body followed, collapsed, lifeless.
Hirata’s gaze whipped up. Sho stood over the dead ronin. A glint of steel flashed. What had been a cane moments earlier was now a sword.
The other two samurai who’d surrounded Sho came out of their momentary shock and advanced. Time slowed….
Sho whirled and sliced through one man’s middle. He dropped.
Sho turned again on his third attacker. Two slashes. The third ronin fell.
As if jolted, Hirata felt a rush of heat through his body. His training came to life within him and he drew his sword. His two assailants hovered around him, swords brandished. Hirata whirled, stepped, and slashed. He managed to slice one man’s side. A crimson stain immediately appeared on the man’s kimono. The injured man staggered back while the second charged. Hirata’s blade met his with a deafening scrape of steel on steel.
Thought whipped away. Sheer concentration took over. The flow of Hirata’s attention encompassed the space around him. Time slowed again and he met each advance with his father’s Flying Cloud. Ignoring a sting on the right side of his chest, he lunged and ran his sword through one man’s middle and yanked it back out. The man dropped to his knees and then crumpled.
Left with one attacker, Hirata rallied. The other ronin, sword gripped in both hands, circled him, his torso swaying, his dark eyes measuring Hirata. They moved in increments, in a circle. Moments passed. Sho came into view, hanging back, sword raised, the blade pointed toward the ground as a result of his inverse grip on the hilt.
Hirata’s concentration broke. His opponent swung his blade in a perfect arc. The force knocked Hirata’s sword out of his hands, to the ground. The ronin lunged and swung again. Hirata scrambled back to avoid the slice and tripped on a rock. He landed hard on his back and rolled quickly, just missing the blade’s descent. Back and forth he rolled, avoiding deathblows. The world rolled and tumbled around him, all funneling down to the sight of the ronin who wanted his life. His assailant stood over him ready to impale him, arms raised.
The ronin’s arms remained raised. He grunted. His body stiffened and blood ran from his mouth. From the corner of Hirata’s eye, he saw Sho draw his sword from the man’s body, which fell to the ground.
Sho then lifted the scabbard to the side of his face.
From his place on the ground, Hirata watched Sho, eyes closed, slide his sword into the scabbard until his weapon once again appeared a harmless blind man’s cane. Then he lowered his cane and knelt down, feeling his way over to where Hirata lay. “Hirata, are you hurt?”
The question cut through Hirata’s adrenaline-induced state. What had been a sting under his right shoulder burst into a physical pain such as he’d never known. Reaching up a shaky hand, he touched the spot. His jacket and kimono were warm, wet, and stic
ky. He looked down. A flood of crimson covered his hand and soaked his clothing. The round stain grew larger with each passing second. He wanted desperately to answer Sho, but the pain was so great, it whipped away his ability to speak. Each time he started to say yes, all he could utter was a harsh breath.
“Hirata, answer me now.” Sho’s seeking hand found his leg, which he used to guide himself to Hirata’s side. “By all that is holy, Hirata, answer me. Are you hurt?”
“Yes,” he managed to choke out. “I’m… very….” The twilight world dimmed and faded into black.
Chapter Five
SOMETHING HIT Hirata’s cheek. Hard.
“Hirata! Stay with me!”
Hirata opened his eyes.
Sho’s face hovered above him. His forehead shone with sweat and deep lines furrowed his brow. Sho’s hand flashed in his vision, followed by the impact on his cheek again. Then on the other. “Hirata!” Slap. Slap. Slap. “Show me where you’re hurt!” Panic laced Sho’s plea.
So, Hirata thought, dying is what it takes for him to show concern for me. The irony forced a strangled laugh from him. The mangled sound only made Sho’s skin pale.
Sho felt for his hand, which lay on the ground at his side. “Hirata, do it, now. Show me where you’re hurt.”
Mustering what strength he could, Hirata guided Sho’s hand to the wound on the right side of his chest, just below his shoulder. Tenderly, Sho felt his way under his clothing to the wound. The lightest pressure of his fingertips sent pain through the whole area. Hirata groaned.
“I’m sorry, Hirata. I must feel what happened. I’ll be as gentle as I can.” Sho’s fingers felt as if they would penetrate his body right through to the other side.
A sigh of what sounded like relief. “It’s not too deep, thank Buddha.” Sho reached around and felt Hirata’s back, also below his shoulder. “The stab didn’t go through. I’ll have to cauterize the wound, but I must get you back to do so.”
“Back….” Hirata choked out. “Back… where?” Could it be Sho had lived right in this area? All this time?
Blind Love Page 4
