Reclaimed – Chapter 41

From my perch in the second story window, I press Arata’s binoculars to my eyes and peer down the adjacent street. About a kilometer out of town, along a dirt and brick road leading south to the bridge over the river, a hill crests blocking the view of anything farther. I concentrate on the horizon waiting for the moment I’ll glimpse Fujiwara.

Shishi sits behind me near the door, his overwhelming presence hard to ignore. Even his breath warms the whole room and my breathing falls into pace with his. He purrs, much like Momo, and the hair on my head stands up. I can’t believe I allied myself with lions. I glance back at him, but his amber eyes are concentrating on a nearby window, not paying attention to me at all. The rest of his pride lie in wait outside. Ginza, sitting next to him, cleans his fur with his tongue, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.

Kumo, who was helping the lions clear out the town earlier, nudges me with his cold nose.

“Lost my last owners. Don’t want to lose you,” he says, his wide eyes boring straight down into my soul. He licks my face, and I freeze. I had forgotten that my animals are children to me, possibly the only children I will ever have, which means I’m their parent, the one they count on for love, food, and shelter. This is my family, sleeping, walking, and fighting beside me.

I wrap my arms around Kumo’s neck and rub my face into his fur. “I love you, my white fluffy cloud.” I pull away, wipe his fur from my face, and scratch him between the eyes. “I’ll do my best not to leave you.”

I glance at Jiro across the room, and his sad eyes concentrate on mine. I wish I could change things so these were not our last moments together. He deserves so much more than this. He shakes his head slightly, a little jerk left to right. Don’t think of it, he says to me.

I nod and return to the binoculars. Still no sign of Fujiwara. Down in the town square, Miura, Sachi, Emiko Matsuda, and every other dead man we could find lie in a neat row. Smoke swirls around them though the theater fire has mostly burned out.

I adjust my bow sitting across my lap and reposition the quiver of arrows closer to me, look through the binoculars, and banners hover over the hill before men on horseback appear.

“Ginza, they’re coming. Alert the others.”

Ginza jumps from his position and runs out the door and down the stairs. Jiro and I nod at each other, and I return to the binoculars.

“I can’t see much at this distance, but it’s…” I try to count the horses, but they fade in and out of the smoke. “Maybe twenty to twenty-five men on horseback.” I count to ten in my head, watching them grow bigger and more distinct. “Wait! I see Fujiwara. He’s riding in full samurai battle gear.”

I sigh and pull the binoculars away.

“That means we’ll have to aim for the head or neck,” Jiro says, pulling out Oninoten and the wakizashi. “Those will be the only vulnerable points.”

“Okay.” I wet my dry lips and taste blood. I’ve been chewing on them. I look through the binoculars again, and they’re much closer now but slowing down. “Osamu is with Fujiwara. Fujiwara is wearing red samurai gear but Osamu is wearing black… Wait a minute.” I concentrate harder, squinting my eyes into the oncoming pack. “Shiro Koga is with them!”

“Are you sure?” Jiro asks, coming to my side. I hand him the binoculars.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He brings the binoculars to his eyes, his jaw tensing and teeth grinding. “Shit.”

“What do you mean? This is the best possible scenario.” Giddiness sends my voice higher. “All our enemies together in one spot. It’s almost…” I blink a few times.

“Too good to be true. It is too good to be true.”

Fujiwara’s team stops just short of the main street entrance. They’re so close now, just out of bow and arrow’s reach. Shiro Koga steps his horse in front of all the others. I can’t hear his voice, but his eyes are narrowed, scanning the town, probably wondering why the streets are so quiet when a building burns in the town square. It’s suspicious that people aren’t out gawking and rubbernecking.

He turns his horse around to the rear of the group and whistles. One, two… Six men in black fade into view from the tree line, fan out, and head into the city. I start to sweat and my throat closes up as I watch one man, four buildings down, scale the facade and leap across the rooftops.

“Get down,” I hiss at Jiro. We both crouch down so only our eyes are above the windowsill.

I count the meters between the cluster of horses and the explosives we buried. Only ten more meters. But Koga’s rough barking is holding everyone up. He’s yelling at Fujiwara and Osamu, their horses anxious and ready to charge.

Fujiwara nudges his horse forward, sweeping Koga to the side with his sword. He’s had enough of delay. My heart beats swiftly in my chest.

“On my mark…” I say to Jiro as Fujiwara and Osamu clear the explosives line. He pulls out the wireless relay to the detonator Arata came equipped with. I never thought I’d be so happy to have such destructive friends.

They’re close enough now I can hear the horses and their voices. Pulling an arrow from the quiver, I prime it on the bow. Only a few more meters and they’ll all be beyond the explosives, then we can detonate and block them in.

“No! Wait!” Koga calls out. His eyes lift to the sky. Himitsu flies over, circling the block, and Koga follows my owl, his head swiveling, as my stomach sinks. “It’s a trap!” He turns his horse to the rear.

Many haven’t cleared the explosives! What do I do? I didn’t want to kill the horses.

“Fuck.” It’s too late to go back. It’s now or never. “Now!” I lunge at Jiro, he presses the button, and we throw ourselves to the floor as the street erupts, blowing everything to pieces.

My ears ring, but I push myself up quickly and peek out the window. Koga made it away. His horse gallops as fast as he can down the road, a few of his men in black following not far behind with three of Fujiwara’s men. Half the men and their horses are dead on the ground, but Fujiwara, Osamu, and three other men on horseback made it through. We didn’t have a lot of explosives, but it was enough to take a few out.

I pull back my arrow, stand, and fire. It whizzes past Osamu. I draw a new arrow and prepare to shoot. An arrow flies into view from my left and hits Osamu’s horse in his hindquarters. He whinnies, kicks, and knocks Osamu down. Go Arata!

I fire another arrow at Fujiwara, and it misses him by a meter. I jump back as an arrow flies in our window. Fujiwara’s men in the street are firing from their horses. Thunk thunk. Two shuriken land in the wooden window frames around where I’m standing, their sharp knife edges buried a full centimeter. If those throwing stars had hit me, I would be dead or severely injured by now.

I peek around the edge of the window and a ninja leaps from the roof of the building across from me to avoid an arrow from Arata. He lands in the street and rolls, bouncing back up and running for cover. Damn! The leap from almost four meters up barely scratched him. I would have broken a leg.

I’m about to instruct Shishi to get the pride moving when a blur of golden fur darts across the street and attacks one of the horses, pulling it to the ground. The horse screams, his rider falling with him.

“Oh!” I yelp, gripping the window and ducking as an arrow flies past me into the room. The horse limps away, but the lion has torn open the neck of the man. Osamu is off his horse, sword out, and edging towards the lion.

I draw another arrow, aim, breathe, and let it fly. It bounces off of Osamu’s armor but distracts him long enough for the lion to run off. An arrow shoots out from my left again and Arata catches one of Fujiwara’s archers in the face. His cheek bursts blood and he slumps to the ground.

“I see, one, two, only two other men besides Fujiwara and Osamu on the street.”

I have four arrows left. Please gods. Let them fly home.

I pull one out and breathe deep. From the window, I can see Osamu and Fujiwara back to back, so I aim for the middle of them. The arrow soars through the air and clears the tops of their helmets by a meter. Before I can duck down, an arrow zooms at me and nicks my left shoulder.

“Sanaa!”

I fall backwards, believing I must be dead, but Jiro crouches over me, ripping a piece of fabric and tying it over the wound on my arm.

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly. “It’s barely bleeding. Can you feel your arm?”

I flex the muscles and sit up. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”

“You’ve got three arrows left and then it’s ground assault time. Get to them,” he says, pushing me to the window.

Before I can concentrate on shooting more arrows, a flash of black from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and the ninja who was on the street before flies into the adjacent window straight for Jiro.

Bad move. Jiro already had both swords back in his hands after dealing with my injury, and he jumps to the ready. The ninja pulls a pair of nunchaku from his back, swinging them at Jiro’s head, sword, and legs. I back away and to the side before I’m too distracted by the fight in our room to handle anything coming in from the window.

I’ve never seen nunchaku used before and it’s a blur of movement. He tries to strike at Jiro several times above and below and Jiro defends himself with both swords. I remember Jiro saying that Kentaro is good with this weapon, and now I wonder just how good? This good? Because this is outrageous.

I scan the room we’re in, piled high with boxes and knickknacks, a storage space and break room for the general store below us. A glass jar filled with old nails sits on the table next to me. Brilliant.

I pick it up, heft it, draw my arm back, and throw straight at the ninja’s head. The jar glances off the back of his head and knocks him forward as the jar hits the ground and explodes, nails flying every which way. Jiro stabs the ninja in the chest with the wakizashi and runs the length of Oninoten across his throat. Shishi roars at them both, and Jiro huffs and tries to catch his breath.

“Thanks,” he says, grabbing the nunchaku from the dead man’s hands and setting them aside.

I peek out again to the street and Fujiwara and Osamu are still back to back, fending off arrows. Why haven’t they run to take shelter? I glance left and right and my blood cools. Lions surround them on all sides. If they run they’re done for. I should let the lions take them. They both deserve each other. But I can’t deny that the lions don’t have weapons except for teeth and strength, and they have a better chance of dying.

Another arrow onto my bow, and I pull back and aim. Shin-zen-bi, Sanaa. This one shoots straight but bounces off of Osamu’s armor.

Two left.

“Argh! I’m the worst archer ever! Why did you even give me this stupid weapon?”

I take aim with the second to last arrow and this one bounces off of Fujiwara’s knee.

“Godsdammit.” I duck down as another arrow flies into the window and lodges itself in the ceiling. “This is it, Jiro. Last one. Signal to everyone that we’re ready to go.”

After this, we go in hand-to-hand fighting for our lives, and we have one more explosion too. Jiro crawls out the door, stands, and runs down the stairs.

“I’m so sick of this godsdamn bow and arrow,” I grumble, grabbing the last arrow. “How the hell am I supposed to do this?” I wave the arrow at Shishi, and he jerks his chin at it. “I just want to fight him with my sword. But no, everyone wants me safe.”

I place the arrow on the bowstring, lift my arms, and pull down to aim. I’m so sick of being helpless, sick of assholes taking advantage of my people, sick of the deception. “I can’t do this!” I shout at the ceiling.

Shishi stands up, opens his mouth, and roars in my face as I pull back to shoot. I flinch, my entire body seizing in panic, and the arrow flies from my bow, shoots through the smoky air, and pierces Fujiwara’s neck, a squirt of blood hurling into the air.

“Ohhh shhhh,” I breathe, dropping the bow. I dash past Shishi and down the stairs, unsheathing Kazenoho from my back. Jiro stands in awe at the door, so I push past him. “Kentaro, explosives!” I yell. The opposite end of the street erupts sending concrete and dirt into the air. Osamu ducks down, but his father, clutching at his neck, reels in a giant circle.

I run straight for Fujiwara and use my momentum to crash straight into him, bracing my shoulder to knock him over. He lands on the ground with a thump, dust billowing up around him. Metal on metal rings through the courtyard as Jiro jumps to fight Osamu. I peek over my shoulder to make sure Jiro is okay before I jam my foot into Fujiwara’s chest and look him in the eye, ducking to avoid another arrow that flies at me. I stay low until Kentaro and Kazuo corner the other archer and bash him over the head.

Fujiwara gurgles underneath me, his face twisted and contorted in rage. His skin is bright red, capillaries bursting under the surface of his cheeks and around his eyes.

“Remember me?” I ask, and his eyes widen. “Thought so. I’m the dirty half-breed you wanted nothing to do with.”

He thrashes his legs but the color begins to drain from his face rapidly. I stand up, place Kazenoho on his neck, and yank it across, severing the last bit of life he had left from his body. My revenge list is shorter by one.

Osamu is the last man standing, fighting with Jiro, surrounded by Kentaro, Kazuo, Arata, Namika, lions, foxes, and Kumo. Kumo sits back on his haunches and howls, the sound so chilling, I shake in my boots. I didn’t ask him how his last owners died. Something tells me it was Fujiwara’s fault though.

I whip the blood from Kazenoho and stand waiting for Jiro’s signal should he need help.

Osamu backs off from Jiro’s onslaught and throws off his helmet.

“So, this is the man Risa often spoke of? Before I killed her and sent her back to you?” he asks, jerking his chin at me. “Jiro, right?” He laughs, swinging his sword left and right. “I would tell you that I had your wife twelve different ways but I couldn’t bring myself to even touch her.”

The arrogance of Osamu is astounding. He’s surrounded with not a man left to defend him, yet he still wants to insult me because he refuses to go to his own grave without a fight.

“You’re sick,” I say, through the haze of adrenaline and exhaustion. “You’ve killed thousands of people, for what?”

Osamu wags his sword around, the sun bouncing off the top of his balding head. His hair, buzzed in a tight clip, is sweaty and matted. He laughs. “I don’t have to answer to you. Come. Use your sword to try and kill me. I’d be happy to wet my blade with your blood.”

I blow out a hot, dragon-fired breath. I want to kill him and I could. I know it. But I remember my time in the palace, his body on the floor in front of me. I promised I would save him for Jiro.

“Jiro, it seems unfair to fight Osamu with two good arms since he is not as skilled as you.” I raise my eyebrows.

“Sanaa…” Kentaro whispers behind me. “What are you doing?”

Jiro smiles, curling his left arm behind his back. “Of course, my love. Whatever you wish.”

He lunges forward driving the tip of Oninoten into Osamu’s chest armor. Jerking the katana upwards, the dull side of the sword catches on a rope and knocks into Osamu’s face. He brings his sword up and whacks Jiro away, then slices across the air in between them. Oninoten meets Osamu’s sword up and down, and all the time Jiro keeps his left hand behind his back. His face is relaxed but for the space between his eyebrows, scrunched together. I’ve seen him fight with one hand before, against me, because come on. I’m not even half as skilled as Jiro. I figure Osamu is good normally but not with armor on, meant to deflect hashing blows and flying arrows, not cunning swordsmanship.

I cringe when Osamu’s next slash nearly misses Jiro, but he counters with two slashes and a parry that knocks Osamu sideways. Osamu, both hands on his sword, slices upwards at Jiro and he twists away but not fast enough. Osamu crashes to the ground as a line of blood from Jiro’s hip around to his chest blossoms across his slashed shirt.

Osamu thinks he’s won, but Jiro, not even fazed by the injury, leaps into the air and brings Oninoten straight down into Osamu’s exposed gut. Blood bubbles up from the injury, pouring over his sides, and onto the pavers underneath him.

Jiro pauses, his hand on his sword, his hair fallen over his face. “Now, we’re even,” he says, pulling Oninoten out, flinging the blood from its length, and solemnly slipping the katana back in its sheath.

I sprint to Jiro’s side, placing both hands over the cut along his abdomen. He lifts his shirt and looks down at the muscles along his stomach, and I gasp. I expected the injury to be deep, possibly life-threatening, but it’s merely a scratch even if the cut is bleeding heavily.

“Ah. Nothing to be worried about,” says Jiro, and releasing his left hand from behind his back, he nonchalantly blows on his nails. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

I burst into a laugh and hug him around his waist.

“It’s over. I can’t believe it’s over, and we won.” I wipe my face on his chest and sigh.

“We didn’t win. We lost too much to call ourselves winners.” Emotion clouds his eyes as he turns his face to the destroyed theater and Sakai within it. “But we reclaimed this world for its people, for our families… That’s why we came here in the first place.”

Arata, Kentaro, and Namika hug, while Julia, Kazuo, Taya, and Natsu sit down on the ground. Kazuo hangs his head over his knees and Julia pats him on the back. Naomi and Yuka emerge from the store across the street and stare at the circle around us, lions, foxes, dogs, and cats, and Himitsu flying down towards me. I reach out and catch him in my hand, placing him on Jiro’s shoulder.

“It was worth the fight, worth the losses. We always said we would do this for freedom. Freedom for everyone, people and animals. Everyone.”

“Kōtaigō, it was worth the fight, and worth the wait for you to come to us.” Ginza bows his head and the other animals follow his lead.

Jiro hugs me, pulling me to him again. “I did this for your freedom. Only for you…” He lays his lips on my forehead and I close my eyes, honoring this moment.

Love, loyalty, and dedication, the three tenants of our relationship will be the new laws of our land.

I link my hand with his and squeeze as we step into the embrace of our friends and allies, surrounded by the animals we liberated as well.

The fear and uncertainty are over.

Now we can go on living.