Reclaimed – Chapter 38

My stomach sinks as a waft of smoke curls down around us. Fire. I never feared fire until I was rescuing people in Yamato and burned my own arm in the process. The echo of my skin sizzling against the searing hot window echoes back to me from ten days ago. I clutch the still sore area on my upper left tricep.

“Sanaa!” Kazuo stands right in front of me and I snap to the present. “The townspeople staged a protest this morning and set fire to their community theater where Miura was holed up. We should go. We can accomplish a lot in the chaos.” He glances past us to the lions in the tunnel, his eyes widening and stepping away from us. “Lion,” he says, warning me. I hold out my hand to halt him.

“They’re with us.” Dropping my bag off my shoulders, I zip open the top and rouse Himitsu. “Hey, time to wake up. Sorry.” I cradle the little fluff ball in my hands and wake him up by stroking along his wings. “Tsūka is on fire and there’s rioting in the streets. I need your eyes above.”

Himitsu bristles his feathers and blinks his eyes asynchronously. “I’m awake? I’ll fly and see you soon.” I extend my hand and he takes off into the sky, a little wobbly at first, but rights himself within a moment. He must have been dead asleep.

“Shishi,” I call, placing Kazenoho on my back, “we need to be careful we don’t hurt the innocent people in this town, but if you can scare people out by chasing them away, do it.”

The lions trot ahead of us down the path. Kazuo and Julia shrink away from them, Taya and Natsu behind them, their mouths open wide.

“Did you just talk to the lions?” Kazuo’s voice cracks.

“I did. Hopefully they’ll clear out the residents before we get there. Everyone leave your belongings here. Take only weapons.” I count ten paces into the forest from a tree with a huge gash mark on it, drop my bag, and then throw leaves on top of it. They do the same.

“Here, Sanaa. This is yours now. Jiro won it in the poker game the other night.” Arata hands me his second kit, my very own bow and quiver full of arrows. “I don’t have a second pair of gloves for you though.”

“I don’t know, Arata. I’m not good at kyūdō.” The new weapon sits in his hand, waiting to be mine, but what can I do with a bow and arrow that I can’t do with my sword?

“Take it anyway. You can stash it and grab it when you need it.” He puts it in my hands, his own bow slung over his shoulder next to the quiver. A long handled knife is tucked in his belt, and he fills a small satchel with explosives. Jiro carries Oninoten, the wakizashi I gifted him on his twenty-third birthday, and several knives. Julia, Kazuo, and their team are armed. Kentaro has the shinobijō and knives. We’re ready to go. Only Namika isn’t armed, but I’m not sure she wants to be.

“Let’s go.”

We jog along the path about five minutes behind the lions. It winds down through the trees and the outer neighborhoods of town. The houses on this road are closed up, shutters pulled and locked over windows, no laundry on the lines, no smells of food or murmuring of conversations. Maybe everybody already left when they could?

“Kazuo, what do you know?” I ask. “Tell me everything you can think of.”

“I followed Sachi here yesterday. She and Emiko Matsuda are staying in a house not far from the theater with Miura’s daughters. Miura turned the town into some military establishment. He commandeered the theater and made that his home base where he has Maeda under guard. The people in town think Miura is worse than Fujiwara. At least Fujiwara left them alone for some time…”

Movement between two houses to my right catches my eye, and I stop short, everyone else stumbling over me.

“Fox! Over here!” At first I thought the animal was a cat but he’s a silvery fox. “Ginza, is that you?”

“Yes, Kōtaigō. We made it into town last night. What do you need from us?”

Kazuo’s eyes practically fall out of his head.

“I need coverage from as many ways as possible. Miura is only as strong as his supporters. If he has no one to help him, then he can’t fight.”

“Yes, Kōtaigō,” he says, bowing his head down to the ground. “We will sniff them out. My friends have pairs in this town. We will spread the word.”

“Thank you.” I bow to Ginza and he runs off, his bushy tail held high as he skirts around the corner of a building.

“That is so strange.” Kazuo rubs his chin, looking between us. “I know you got the chip, but I didn’t see it in action before now.” He drops his hands and grasps my shoulders. I stiffen in surprise and fear. I haven’t trusted this man since we returned from my capture. “I bet on the right person. Please don’t die today.”

“I’ll try not to,” I gasp, leaning away from him.

He lets go, mumbling sorry to Jiro, and we continue. “Sachi needs to go. I heard her bragging about the fires in Yamato to anyone who would listen in every pub along the way here. She never used to drink. Said it made her unreliable.”

“She’s your sister,” I remind him. “I don’t think you can kill her.”

“If I can’t, someone else will have to do it for me.”

We round the corner to the main avenue, and five blocks away, the top floor of a three-pagoda roofed theater crackles with flames, their blood red fingers scraping the sky, smoke belching from every open window. My skin crawls, the very thought of burning to death enough to make me nauseated. I want nothing to do with that place. I put my hand out and stop Jiro. I look from him to the building and back again, licking my parched and dry lips.

“Rock Paper Scissors. Winner gets Miura in the theater, kills him, and rescues Maeda. Loser gets Sachi, Emiko, and Miura’s daughters.”

A hard, almost impossible task and an easy one. Really, they are lightyears distant from each other. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should figure out some way for us to get into this fight together.

His jaw tenses. “We’re not splitting up.”

I glance at the theater again and the people evacuating to the streets. Several businesses along the strip have boarded up their windows hastily, and a mob of men and women carrying shovels, brooms, and swords crowd the sidewalk in front of the theater. From my right, a team of fire fighters in boots and fire coats, helmets perched on their heads, runs toward the scene pushing a pumping station.

“I don’t see another option. We have two objectives, and you’re my Number One.” I smirk as I make a fist and he laughs, despite the situation being completely nuts. He’s not the only one who can make random historical cultural references.

“Ready? One, two, three.” We both throw our choices. I throw paper. He throws rock. My stomach flops over. I thought he’d throw scissors. I was certain of it. His mother told him never to throw rock first. It’s a weak man’s gambit to choose rock, a symbol of strength, on the first go. “I win,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“I can’t believe you chose paper,” Jiro whispers in disbelief. “I was certain you’d choose scissors.”

I let my hand fall limp to my side. He was trying to save me, and I blew it. I blew it! I just ended my life in a game of Rock Paper Scissors. What was I thinking?

“Sanaa, I’ll go.” He rushes forward, grabbing my shoulders in his shaking hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“We have to get going,” Sakai urges, his leg bouncing.

“You chose rock because you know I have to go, even if I don’t want to.” I jump and throw my arms around his neck, smashing my lips to his with a passionate kiss. I capture the taste of him in my mouth and hold onto it before letting go. “Thank you for loving me.”

I back away as Jiro’s face turns ashen.

“Mark, Julia, and her team are with me. Kentaro, Kazuo, and Jiro find Sachi and Miura’s daughters. Take Kumo with you.”

I bend over and let Kumo lick my cheek. “Careful,” he says. “Come back to me.”

“I will. Help Jiro sniff out our enemies.” I turn away from him before I cry. “Arata and Namika, deal with the crowds.”

Screams erupt down the block as Shishi and his pride enter the street and roar. Women and children scatter, some falling and scrambling to get up and away. Shishi lunges at the feet of a pack of men sprinting through the streets without drawing any blood. We break off as a stampede heads straight for us.