Reclaimed – Chapter 16

I wait till after eleven in my soundproof room, pacing the floor back and forth and driving Kumo mad until he lies down and passes out. I wonder what’s been going on without me every night. Who has Jiro been seeing? Is he with Sakai? Rai? Arata? Are they making deals? Enemies or friends? Every time I’ve asked about what’s going on outside of my room, I’m told not to worry. Don’t they understand I would worry less if they just told me everything? The fact that Himitsu singled Jiro out over everyone else worries me the most. I can’t figure out why, though.

I dress in black, tucking my short hair into a knit cap, and slip from the compound in the shadows. I scale the wall with Himitsu on my shoulder, far enough from the guard stand not to alert anyone. My arms and shoulders ache and shake from the strain, and I have to hold back a groan. I need to start daily exercises again before I fall to pieces. Slinking in and out of alleys and around the rear of small houses and apartment buildings, I walk briskly towards the center of town.

“Turn left here?” Himitsu says, and I grind my teeth, the sound echoing in my head. What he really means is “Turn left here.” His question is a statement, and I’m not to answer him or he gets puffed up and angry. Add owl-speak to the list of strange dialects here on Yūsei that may drive me to an early, over-annoyed grave.

Nighttime poses a risk to me more than others. My head whips around at the voices surrounding me in different pitches and cadences. A quick stroll through the streets at night proves my chip and body are indeed unique. I can understand many nighttime animals such as raccoons, possums, and some sort of weasel. Their voices come from places I’m not used to, like between trash cans, on rooftops, and in trees. I’m surrounded.

“Stop here? Your mate is in the bar ahead on the right.”

I readjust Kazenoho on my shoulder and push my body into a dark nook two doors down and across the street from a busy bar. I wonder how Jiro would feel about me using the techniques he taught me to follow him.

“Please call him Jiro or my husband. I feel horrible for spying on him.”

I press my cheek against the cool wall and stare into the front window of the bar. Jiro stands inside, an almost-empty glass of beer in one hand, speaking with two men I’ve never seen before. They look like natives, wearing the same style clothes as Rai Oda or Arata. To Jiro’s left, Arata sits at a small table talking and laughing with locals too.

A cramp of disappointment clutches my stomach in its thorny grip. This is what I miss by being separate from everyone. I would probably be deafened by a raucous nighttime bar scene, but still, I miss being out with people, talking about everyday life or hearing what these citizens want from their leader. Maybe they want things I’m unable to give which is why no one tells me what’s going on in the city.

“Why am I here, Himitsu? I’ve never spied on Jiro because I trust him.” I flex my ankles and roll them, keeping in the shadow of the doorway next to me. Snooping is not really my thing, and though I’m happy to watch my enemies, shame plagues me when I watch my friends. “Everyone has secrets. Me included. I don’t need Jiro to tell me everything.”

“This is not about that? You should see what I see.”

“Fine.” I sigh and lean against the wall, my mouth watering as Jiro sips beer and eats chicken skewers from Arata’s table. I went to bed early after not eating much dinner. My stomach was too closed up to eat, wondering what Jiro was doing without me in the city at night. I had stupid visions of him with another woman that I wish I could erase from my mind. I’ve never once doubted him. Here we are, a year into our relationship, and I’m already suspicious. I hate myself.

“Who are these people with Jiro?”

“The man on the left? He’s a famous man. Represents a sumo wrestler?”

“What’s his name?” The man is at least ten centimeters shorter than Jiro, balding, with age spots across his temples. He laughs and throws back his head at something Jiro says.

“I’m not good with names.” Himitsu shifts on his little bird feet. “I’m sorry? No one has ever understood me. If I don’t hear a name in conversation, I can’t know it? Because I can’t ask it. Some other birds know a name I do not? Not all the time.”

“You’ve never been understood by any other person? Not even Namika?” Namika told me she hears some birds, but her talent is mostly with cats.

“Never. The owner of the coffee shop where I slept most days was sure I was destined to pair with someone, if I wasn’t damaged?” Himitsu’s eyes widen, and if he were a little boy like Hiro, I would expect tears. Do owls cry?

I scoop him off my shoulder and cradle him close to my cheek, his soft feathers tickling my skin. “I’m glad we found each other.” My heart grows for such a sweet little creature. I sink the tips of my fingers into the fluff on the top of his head and scratch while he closes his eyes and leans into it. My life is no longer the small circle of friends around me. It now includes my menagerie, the royal brood, and the thought makes me smile. My animals will never be in cages and on display. They’ll be a part of my family.

The sound of Jiro’s laugh rolls across the street to me, and I snap my eyes to him. His next beer is almost gone.

“Who is the other man with Jiro?”

Himitsu pulls his head from my fingers, shakes, and puffs his body out before sighing and deflating into a tiny owl again. “The other man is a banker? I think?”

Jiro sets his glass down on the bar, waves off the bartender, and bows to the two men before grabbing his bag and saying goodbye to Arata. I press myself into the shadows. “Close your eyes, Himi. They reflect light.”

Jiro exits the bar, pulling his heavy bag closer to his body and out of the way of Oninoten. He turns and heads left without noticing me in the nook. I wait a few beats before exiting my safe hiding place and follow him down the street. We pass other bars and restaurants, still going strong though the clock hanging from a corner store a block away reads past midnight. I avoid a group of people stumbling drunk from a doorway towards the street. Two horses in the street laugh at the silly humans who can’t stay upright. I can understand horses! It’s been days since I last saw Kagemusha. I should visit him in the stables and see if we can chat.

Jiro halts at a darkened and gated storefront and knocks on the door. While he waits, he elbows the bag away from his hip. The way it sags against his body indicates it must be full of something heavy. The door to the store opens, the light comes on, and the sign illuminates. A pawn shop.

Jiro clasps hands with the owner and follows him inside. The two speak over the counter while Jiro empties items from the bag. Old weapons, tea pots, and lacquerware from my family’s storage space line up ready to be inspected. He must have had these brought in on the last shuttle with Lucy.

I try to swallow, my throat dry, watching him count each piece and cross his arms. He was careful to only choose the things I wasn’t interested in. Most of the items besides the swords and the throwing stars are useless to me, and though the tea pots are beautiful, they have no meaning to me. They haggle over every item, and then the store owner counts out native money in a huge stack. They shake hands and laugh, a genial conversation erupting after business is complete. Jiro recounts the money as he places the bills in his wallet. He leaves the shop carrying much less than he carried in.

“What did he sell?”

“Some of our belongings, my inheritance.”

“Hoooooo…” Himitsu sighs. “Are you angry?”

“No. He didn’t sell anything I want back. Now what?”

“Follow him? He has done this two other times I’ve seen.”

Jiro rounds a corner after a block and enters a twenty-four-hour general store. I suppose every town needs to have a store that will stay open all night. The front window on this place is small, and I can’t see in, but Jiro exits about ten minutes later and his bag is heavier again.

He proceeds on his way, still not heading towards Oda’s estate so I follow again. I honestly can’t believe he hasn’t caught me spying on him yet. I must be doing a good job of hiding myself.

After four blocks, Jiro enters the grounds of a temple. Now I’m definitely weighed down by remorse. Jiro told me he’s been praying, and I confessed that I had been too, but we haven’t been to a temple together in a long while, not since I lost the baby. He strides into the quiet premises confidently, moving towards an open room lit by candles.

I hide near the entrance in the shadow of a tree, the branches covered with sleeping birds, their heads tucked under their wings. Everything is hushed under the two bright moons of Yūsei, and I’m tempted to hold my breath and not make any noise. Jiro exits the temple with a lit stick of incense, rounds the corner of the main building, and heads towards the back. I slip along the fence, silent on my toes, staying low and in the dark.

Against the rear of the temple, Jizō statues line up in rows eight deep and a hundred across. Lit candles amongst the tiny statues flicker in the evening’s light breeze. Jiro stands the incense stick in a trough of sand, opens his bag, and takes out some things he must have purchased at the general store: a little doll he sets beside the incense and a wool hat he pulls onto the head of a statue. He kneels in seiza in the rocky courtyard, bows, and prays before the little stone men.

My knees give way, and I sit back against the wall between two bushes to cry. Though I don’t think about it often, because if I did, I’d drown in my sorrow, the pain of my miscarriage is sharp at all times. I had no idea Jiro came here to lighten the load for our unborn child in the afterlife. He deserves children; he deserves to be a father. I may not deserve much for all the unhappiness I bring to others, and I have failed Jiro in this significant way, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to deny him this for all he’s done for me. He’s done more than any husband should have to put up with. Honestly, it’s a wonder he’s stuck around this long. Our whole situation is completely unfair to him, and I should do something, anything, to make it easier.

I do my best to cry quietly and keep my sadness to myself as Jiro prays for at least ten minutes, gathers his things and leaves the temple through the opposite door. I follow him at a lengthy distance to Oda’s estate, wiping my face on my sleeve along the way. He enters through the main gate, but I scale the fence near the horses’ stables. Creeping along the bushes, I watch as he eases the house door open, and most likely, heads to his bedroom.

“It’s dinner time for me? I’ll come back later.” Himitsu presses his beak against my cheek near my ear before taking off into the night.

I sneak into my room, dead tired after being all over the city and still not healed from the surgery. I yawn as I glance at the clock, two-forty. Pulling my bag from under the bed, I grab my tablet and navigate to the medical screen.

“Are you sure you want to deactivate your birth control implant?”

Yes.

I wait half an hour, change into pajamas, slip on my shoes, and head to the main house with Kumo who slept through my city jaunt. When I approach Jiro’s room, the light is turned off, so I quietly turn the knob and push the door open. Jiro rolls over in bed, his hand landing on Oninoten.

“Shhh, it’s me,” I whisper. Kumo pushes around my legs to jump on the bed.

“Are you all right?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes. I have no doubt he was asleep even though he only came home an hour ago. He can fall asleep so easily, awake one moment, asleep the next.

“I’m fine. Move over.”

He smiles and lifts the covers to let me in.

“I miss sleeping with you.” I yawn and burrow into the warmth of the bed. “I don’t think I need the soundproof room anymore.”

“Good.” He wraps his strong arms around me and yawns too. “It’s nice to have my love back.”