Reclaimed – Chapter 32

I’m restless again for the billionth night in a row. This time, I spend the entire evening lying as still as possible in bed, hoping that if I pretend to sleep, sleep will come to me. Or at least I won’t wake the cats, the dog, and Jiro.

I close my eyes and listen to the wind bending the tree limbs, scritch-scratching against the walls to my bedroom. The trees this house is built on are two meters thick and two dozen strong. I’m not worried about the tree house falling or collapsing even as it sways in the wind. I’m worried about dozens of other things.

My thoughts cycle through a long list of concerns. First, Koga and his men showed up this evening. In truly characteristic fashion, he ignored me and spoke only to Jiro or Sakai unless I spoke directly to him. I trace my finger over the seams in the soft bedding under me and recall the first time we talked on the way back from my castle rescue. He seemed to tolerate me, even be charmed enough to laugh. Now he wants nothing to do with me. He only wants my child.

I wonder how Miko’s pregnancy is going. I’ve messaged her several times since Oyama’s funeral, only for my family inbox to sit silent. In the past, whenever we fought, it was her mother or my aunts who would intervene and play peacemakers. A tear rolls out of my eye and plops onto my pillow. Her parents are gone and their deaths lie on my head. Her mother isn’t around to broker happiness between us anymore. I’ll give it some time and ask Aunt Kimie to speak with Miko on my behalf. If I ever return home, I’ll throw myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness. What else can I do? I suppose I could cut ties, but I think of her so often, and she’s my sister-in-law now by marriage. I have to salvage the relationship if at all possible, for Jiro’s sake as well.

A cat twitches, stretches, and turns around in the bed to get comfortable again. I press my eyes closed, relax my breathing and drift into sleep for an hour before my eyes pop open again.

What about the foxes? Will I see them again? What about the lions? Will they join us or ignore us? I strain my ears in hopes of hearing them out on the prairie, but the world around me is silent. Sleeping. Even the crickets are quiet. I’m the only one awake.

I wish I could get some sleep.

I’m wondering about getting satellite images when Jiro rolls over, rubs his face, and yawns looking at our bedside clock — five thirty-six AM.

I rub my eyes too, though they’ve been open for a few hours now.

“Woke up before me? Since when have you become an early riser? I remember when you used to sleep later than me.” Jiro pulls me to him, spooning my back and inching his warm legs up behind mine.

“When I was pregnant and exhausted, sure, I slept late. I rarely slept late before that. I was usually up not long after you would leave the apartment in Nishikyō.”

“Mmmm, I miss our apartment.” He lays his lips on the back of my neck, and I wait for whatever he’s about to say next when he begins to breathe deep again, asleep.

I tense up, angry that he can so easily slip in and out of sleep, like it’s a pair of pants or a shirt, before I relax again. It’s not his fault I can’t sleep, that I haven’t properly slept in weeks now.

I close my eyes again and concentrate on his breathing. Behind my closed lids, all I see is the black water of Kuroko Lake, Miura’s laughing face, Fujiwara’s sneer as he spit on the ground in front of me, and Osamu passed out at my feet. There’s nothing in sleep that’s welcoming or happy. Everything in my brain was meant to torture me.

It’s better to open my eyes and wait for the sun to rise.

—-

“Reports are in,” Sakai announces, laying his tablet on the table in front of him. “Julia sighted Maeda early this morning as he was moved from one house to another. Miura has completely taken over the town of Tsūka which is on the northern side of the Northern Reservoir.”

He calls up a satellite map and points to a small town, bordered on the south by a giant lake. I don’t look because I’ve been over these images a hundred times in the last few hours with Sakai, Arata, Kentaro, and Jiro. These are only for Rai and Koga, two men who refuse to sit near each other. I didn’t realize how much these two hated each other until Koga and his men camped out on the grass last night. They would rather deal with lions than the Oda.

“This village to the west, Sanda, will most likely be deserted,” Rai says, pointing at the map. “The residents are chipped and evacuate to surrounding areas when Fujiwara’s men come to town. I expect the same happened when Miura showed up.”

“Then why wouldn’t Miura just take their town if they evacuate?” Jiro folds his arms across his chest.

“Sanda is a very small town. Total of maybe a hundred people. You could miss it if you blinked. Tsūka is almost as big as Izumo with plenty of resources and modern amenities.”

“Miss Itami,” Koga growls, turned in my direction but unable to bring himself to make eye contact with me, “our agreement does not extend to fighting with men from Earth. We only spoke of overthrowing Fujiwara.”

“Excuse me? Your specific words were, ‘We offer our support in taking down Fujiwara and anything else you need done in furtherance of that main goal.’ This is just that. Fujiwara supports Miura now. If we brought down Fujiwara, Miura would just step in. He’s the head of Clan Taira and that’s all that Taira has ever wanted, a seat on the Chrysanthemum Throne. It would make no sense to get rid of Fujiwara without getting rid of Miura and Clan Taira.”

“I do not agree,” he says, standing up. “Our main goal is Fujiwara. Once you are on the throne, you can deal with Taira.”

“Sit. Down.” I point to his empty place at the table. “If you don’t fight with us to get rid of Taira first, you might as well go home and consider our deal forfeit.”

No one at the table moves and the air around us halts as everyone holds their breath. Secretly, I hope he turns around and leaves. I hope he considers our deal over and goes back to his bamboo forest in the South. I wanted him to come around, lose some of his misogynistic attitude and consider me an ally, but no, he still won’t look me in the eyes. My skin crawls and I suppress a shudder. I hate him as much as I hate Fujiwara. What have I gotten myself into?

He hesitates for a moment before sitting down in seiza. Sakai clears his throat and continues.

“We agreed that Miura will be fortifying his forces on the Western side of town, assuming that we will attack from that side. Arata and Rokkaku Clan will create a diversion on the Western approach by bombing any roadblocks Miura erects. In the meantime, we can come at Tsūka from the East in one of two ways. We can either come down from the North across the Kōbuchi Desert and through the mountains…”

“Which I do not recommend,” Rai interrupts. “The Kōbuchi is arid and hot this time of year, and the nomadic outcast clans that live around the solar farm tend to kill anyone who invades their area.”

Great. This world has outcast clans too I know nothing about.

“So we’re going to approach from the South. We’ll cross to the south of Zenyama, across Shiroko Lake, and along the river to the second dam and power plant. We’ll have to cross through or around Inabe to get there. Last I heard from Kazuo, he was in Inabe.” Sakai shrugs his shoulders. “There’s a bridge from Inabe over the river to Tsūka, but it’s too obvious. We should instead use the higher vantage point of the power plant and dam at the entrance to the Northern Reservoir.”

“I… can agree with this,” Koga mumbles. I close my eyes for a brief moment, quelling a wave of pure rage. This obstinate man is going to make my life a living hell. I can feel it already. It was my idea to come in through the power plant and dam. I had Sakai deliver the plans because I was certain Koga would give me a hard time. If anything, he’s predictable.

Kentaro, silently watching the exchange till now, sits forward and whispers to Jiro. “What kind of deal is she talking about?”

“Not now,” Jiro whispers back. I close my eyes and say a silent prayer to my grandfather. Please give me strength to get through this. I need it.

A knock on the door proceeds Sono and Namika who arrive with dinner for us, bowls of chicken donburi. Namika sets a bowl in front of Kentaro and then kicks him in the ass on her way out the door. He frowns and rubs the sore spot before hiding a smile over his bowl.

“I think she’s warming up to me,” he says.

Rai’s eyes focus on Kentaro, the door Namika just walked out of, and Kentaro again. “You are the head of your house now?” Rai pulls off his eyeglasses, reaches into his front pocket, and extracts a cleaning cloth, disturbing Rocky in the process.

Kentaro clears his throat. “Yes, my father died not too long ago. I was his only son, so now I’m head of Minamoto Clan.” His eyes flick to me. I set my chopsticks next to my bowl. Here it comes.

“He died here, on Orihime?” Rai asks.

“He…” Kentaro begins.

“I ordered his death,” I interrupt. “I had him on his knees and demanded he commit seppuku. He committed treason, allied with Clan Taira and Fujiwara to kidnap and imprison me.” I pick up my chopsticks and stab at the rice in the bowl under the battered and fried chicken strips. “I am quite fine with people disagreeing with me, but there’s only so much insubordination I’ll take before I kill you myself.” I make strong eye contact with Koga. His lips twitch.

“You did not kill this man.” He huffs and shoves food into his mouth, chomping on rice and chicken noisily. “He killed himself.”

“I’m sure that’s what you’ll tell yourself to sleep through the night.”

I’m done checking my mouth. I used to say such bold things and immediately regret it, wish I could take it back. Not anymore. I may not be able to make my own decisions and save my own life, but I’ll be damned if I don’t protest it on the way down.

Sono enters the room and falters at the stiff shoulders and deathly glares around the table. He sets glasses of beer in front of each person, but I’m given an extra large glass of water. I gulp half down in one go.

Koga inhales the rest of the bowl of rice, pounds the beer back, and belches. “Ah, thanks for dinner.” He rises from his place at the table. “My men and I will leave in the morning.”

He turns to go, my heart races, and I cover my lips with my hand to hide my smile. I’d rather be free of these assholes and figure out some way to win the war without their help than negotiate with them, give up my future kid, and have their reluctant assistance.

“Wait!” Jiro shoots up from the table. “Stay. Let’s play poker tonight. There’s no need to call an end to this deal now.”

Fuck! Jiro! What are you doing? I dig my nails into his leg next to me.

“Ow!” He glances down at my white knuckles, pausing for a moment. I pluck my nails from his skin and curl my hand into a fist as his stare flits from my hand to my face. He turns back to Koga. “On the other hand…”

I hold my breath.

“No, no. You’re right. It’s still a good deal. Let’s play tonight.” He smirks and pats his non-existent belly. All the Koga ninjas are trim and deadly. “I haven’t played poker in quite some time. Will… Miss Itami be joining us?”

I know when I’m not wanted.

“No. I never play poker. I’m not a gambling woman.” I rise from the table, ignoring the satisfied smile on Koga’s face, and everyone jumps up. “I’ll retire for the night then.”

Jiro leaves the room behind me, and we walk silently towards our bedroom.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, grasping my arm. “You don’t want anything to do with them, do you?”

“No. Of course not. Look at the way he acts towards me.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t expect people to bow down and treat me like royalty or anything…”

“Though they should.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I just want some respect, and I’ll never get it from him. He thinks I’m less than trash, and now he has everything he could possibly want from me. He has me on my knees and he knows it.”

Jiro’s hand slides over my arms and he takes my hand in his. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, unable to lift my head and witness the hurt on his face. “If he tries to quit again, let him. This is his last chance.”

In our room, I spend some time cuddling with Himitsu before he flies off into the night for dinner. Deep, booming laughter floats on the warm breeze to my open window. I peek my head out the window and peer down at the side of the house, a steep drop to the ground five meters below. Hmmm, Jiro must have left the window open earlier. I close it and lock it, pick up my tablet, and start sifting through my mail. I can’t sit still, so I pace our room for an hour with my tablet in my hand, Kumo’s head following me back and forth, back and forth.

“Get some sleep.” I jump out of my skin, my heart beating wildly, and Kumo stands up on the bed, disturbing the cats. “Worried about you,” he says. I didn’t expect him to talk. I’ve had the chip for a while now, and I’m still not used to it.

“Can’t,” I reply and return to poring over every possible outcome to a strike on Miura and then Fujiwara. I’m so thirsty, my IV saline solution treatment done for the time being. A glass of water sits full on my bedside table, but after two sips, my mouth tastes of metal, almost bloody. My head swims and the room becomes warm and invites sleep, sleep I haven’t had in two days now. I change into Nishikyō grays and fall into bed to the sound of men laughing and drinking half a house away.