Reclaimed – Epilogue

Jiro’s foot bounces, and he drums his fingers on the edge of the shuttle door.

“Come on, come on, come on…” he mumbles, looking over his shoulder at the door to the cockpit. “Why haven’t we landed yet?”

“We had to circle the platform twice due to the wind,” a flight attendant replies, bowing in his seat. “Please sit down and wait for the shuttle to land.”

“I’m not sitting.” Jiro grips the handrail as the shuttle jostles to the ground and the engines power down, their whine lessening rapidly. He punches the lock, and the door folds out onto the stairs. The flight attendant sighs unbuckling himself, but Jiro doesn’t wait for his rebuke. He jumps onto the platform and runs past the media surrounding the gate, their hurried questions dodged for the time being. He doesn’t have time for them or politeness.

Legs swiftly pumping away despite being in zero gravity for the last twelve hours, Jiro takes to the streets winding his way towards the center of town. If only Third Wave hadn’t been so full of politicians and religious groups demanding land in outer lying areas of Yamato, he’d have been home yesterday and not in such a rush. He could have been with Sanaa in their serene estate far from the city crowds and questions. But there was so much work to do. It never ends.

The street in front of him is cut off by yellow caution tape and scaffolding, the thirty-story apartment and office building construction well under way. This design matches two others on opposite sides of the town square already full with happy Nishikyō citizens enjoying their ocean views and fresh air. Jiro zigs left and rounds the block out of the way.

“Mr. Itō, any news?” a shop owner calls out as he whips past the crates of vegetables displayed on the sidewalk. Jiro ignores him.

Any news? He’s been pinging messages at his mother and Lucy for the last hour and not receiving any replies. He’s pissed in a way he never is, never without calm and restraint, like Mark taught him. He breaks into a run, only five blocks now from the center of town.

When he reaches the town square, the area is filled with hundreds of people, Earth citizens and natives together. A family waves a banner with the chrysanthemum seal on it, while kids play and laugh. Bouquets of flowers line the sidewalks and images of the old Emperor of Japan, Naruhito, and Sanaa with their first born child are tacked to the walls of city hall. A band plays in the farthest corner, several people eating lunch and listening. Midday in town is never this bright and busy unless a holiday is upon them.

But on the opposite corner, a mob of people stand and chant behind barricades, their posters displaying such phrases as “Down With The Monarchy,” “End Itami’s Reign,” and, Jiro’s favorite, “Weed Out The Nogiku.” Someone leaked photos of Sanaa’s tattoos a year ago and she hasn’t stopped hearing about it since. He loves that he got credit for the work, but she cries whenever the photos are altered to make her look like a demon or prostitute. It never ends well.

Jiro pulls the hood of his coat over his head, avoiding the eyes of people around him. At the front of the protests, Nobu and Yukio Yamamoto chant and raise their fists. How long have they been here? Other people in the square try to ignore them, and the band plays louder.

He heads straight for the throng of reporters outside the hospital, gauging the best place to slither through them and gain entrance to the front door. Pushing past a dozen reporters, he gets within two meters of the front door before he’s spotted.

“There he is! It’s Jiro Itō! Is she all right? Have you heard anything yet? What can you report?” They scream questions at him as the security guards grab Jiro, pulling him inside and pushing away the reporters. The scanner in the vestibule pings and reports, “Itō, Jiro. No diseases.”

“There you are!” Kentaro calls, as Jiro shakes off the feeling of a million hands on his body. “I was going to tell you to come in the side entrance, but the vultures are there as well.” Kentaro pulls him into a rough hug and slaps him on the back a few times. “Let me tell you, you owe me so much for these last four weeks. Like drinks from here to eternity.”

“Sorry,” Jiro mumbles. Kentaro waves him down the hall away from the main entrance waiting area. “I didn’t mean to be gone that long, you know that. I’d rather have been here.”

“I know, I know, but she’s been grouchy and surly and downright pathetic. Crying pretty much every day. It weirds me out to see her like that.”

Jiro cringes. “You had help though.” They scan their hands to call the elevator.

“Yeah, Namika was good. She doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

The doors open and several doctors and patients exit, many of them bowing to Jiro before getting out of the way. Kentaro punches the number three and the doors close.

“I hear Kevin made it through on Third Wave.” Kentaro covers his mouth with his fist and clears his throat. “Did you say anything to him?”

“I did, actually. He offered to work in the hospital in Tsūka. I mentioned that you’re married now with another kid on the way, since he did ask after you.” Jiro flattens his lips in a line, trying not to smile.

Kentaro blows out a held breath. “Thanks. Really. I was dreading having to tell him.”

“How’s Namika taking it?”

The doors open and close on the second floor.

“I told her about Kevin ages ago, so it’s not like she cares. ‘You slept with men, and I slept with women, so who gives a fuck,’ were her exact words.” Jiro laughs at Kentaro’s perfect imitation of her voice, and a little old lady in the elevator scowls at Kentaro. “Apologies, madam.”

“What language from the head of such a noble clan,” she sniffs and turns away. Kentaro rolls his eyes at her behind her back.

The doors open on the maternity ward waiting room, and the chairs erupt in movement.

“Daddy!” A blur of motion flies straight at Jiro’s legs, and he lifts his three-year-old son into the air before hugging him tight.

“Koichi, ah, it’s so good to see you.” Jiro holds onto him just a moment longer. Every hug, every conversation is cherished when Jiro fears Koichi will be taken any day. “Have you been good for mommy and grandma?”

The boy’s head nods swiftly, his thick straight hair flopping with it. Looking harder at his own son, Jiro thinks he’s looking more like Sanaa today. Funny how much they can change when you’re gone for a day, a week, or a month.

Mariko wraps her hands around Koichi’s waist. “Come back here and sit down. Let your daddy get inside.” She kisses Jiro on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says, but he only nods to her. Mariko helps out here and there, but their new nanny, Etsuko, an older native woman, is more of a grandmother to Koichi than his own grandmother. Etsuko calls Koichi over to her with a sweet mochi treat and a bottle of water.

Jiro sets his bag down in a chair and dumps his coat on top of it. He leans over to kiss Namika on the cheek, her belly slightly swollen. Kimie and Lomo smile, worry etched in their brows. Beni stands up and hugs Jiro, but this is the extent of Sanaa’s visitors. Helena and Usagi moved to Izumo with Hiro a year ago so he could reunite with friends and his old school. They said they’d be back for the summer holidays. Miko and Yoichi relocated to the northwestern side of town and opened a new izakaya but closed off communication with them. Jiro sighs thinking of Koichi’s cousins he hardly ever sees but for once or twice per year instead of every day. He laughs at Kumo and Ginza lying at Koichi’s feet. This is the only time animals are allowed in the hospital. They have their own hospital two blocks away.

“Good! You’re here!” Lucy sweeps into the waiting room in green scrubs. “Come with me.”

Jiro falls into step at her side, and noting her frown and crinkles at the sides of her eyes, his jaw tenses. “What’s wrong?”

“This one’s harder for her…” Lucy says, only to be interrupted by a wail from down the hall.

Sanaa. Jiro bolts to go after her, but Lucy catches his arm and stays him.

“Listen. She’s been close to pushing for almost two hours now, but the baby refuses to drop any lower. He’s wedged up under her hipbone, and if he doesn’t move soon, they’ll have to perform a C-section. Right now his heartbeat is fine, so they’re letting this go naturally. But she was in so much pain, they performed a spinal block. When you go in, do not look alarmed or she will panic. Understand me?”

Lucy’s green eyes bore into his, and he agrees with a short nod of his head. When she commands, he listens. He takes a deep breath and remembers all the lessons Sakai taught him about shedding his emotions and becoming the person he needs to be in the moment. A warm smile hits his lips as he steps into the delivery room.

Sanaa lies on the bed on her side, her hands clutched to the railing of the hospital bed, and Cathy crouches down next to her, whispering warm words of encouragement to her while two men operate a scanner over her belly.

“There’s my girl,” he says, and Sanaa’s head jolts up.

“Jiro! Oh, thank the gods, thank the gods.” She moans and lays her head back down as the monitors around her bleep with an oncoming contraction.

Jiro walks to her side, placing his hand on her leg and trying to ignore the two men hovering over her half naked body. This is the only time people get to see her like this, and Jiro and Lucy carefully screen each member that gets access to her during labor, delivery, and recovery. Ever since she rode into Tengoku with Fujiwara and Osamu’s dead bodies thrown over a horse, shut down the castle, and turned it into a museum, she’s been sought after by everyone, good and bad.

He rests his hand on her hip and bends down to kiss her on the lips. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll get him out fast.”

He takes a moment to passively gather her in. Her hair is damp with sweat and she’s wearing a nursing tank top, baring her many tattoos to the nursing staff. She went through what Jiro can only describe as a mid-life crisis two years ago after Koichi was born and decided tattoos were her best option at rebellion. He leans over to inspect the sensor on her back controlling the spinal block, and the device sits in a field of rice just above her tailbone. The weeping geisha on her shoulder rises and falls with each breath, and the dragon on her chest that took him two months to draw tucks its head under her shirt and the blanket she clutches in her arms.

“There,” one of the techs says. He tilts the tablet towards Jiro and Cathy. “He’s stuck under her right hip bone.” Cathy leans in to squint at the image, and Jiro gets a good look at his second son. He looks like me, he thinks.

“Let’s move her onto her left side and let gravity work in our favor.”

“Time to move,” Jiro says, shucking off his sweater.

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t want to…” She murmurs, half drunk with fatigue and pain.

“You have to. Now, let me help you.” He releases the side of the hospital bed, slides his hands under her and helps Cathy flip her to her other side. Despite being massively pregnant, she’s still small enough that Jiro could pick her up if he needed to.

The techs reposition the sensor to capture the baby again. Another contraction starts, and this time Sanaa barely feels it. The spinal block is working, but she starts to shake.

“Bring in the warm blankets,” Cathy says, waving towards the door. Sanaa’s teeth chatter so he takes her hand in his and rubs it to warm up her white fingers.

Cathy watches the monitor, and as soon as the contraction is complete, she begins to push on Sanaa’s side, hard enough that her fingers show up on the tablet from the inside of Sanaa’s body. “I feel his shoulder here.” After more poking and pushing with her two hands, Sanaa groans as his shoulder comes free.

“Great! Let’s go. Back to center. Time to push.”

This is the part Jiro lives for. Despite being broken, tired, and unwieldy, Sanaa can feel the end coming, and her eyes sparkle.

“Yes, yes. Now. Please.”

They always talked about having a big family, lots of kids, and plenty of animals. But pregnancy was harder on Sanaa than they hoped it would be. She miscarried three times before bringing Koichi to term. And what with the Koga ninjas’ threat hanging over their head and death threats coming in almost every day, they just couldn’t justify more children. This one will be her last, and she wants the birth over with as soon as possible.

Jiro’s hand in hers aches after several contractions and pushing. She bears down, veins on her temples standing at attention and capillaries on her cheeks bursting with the effort. He keeps his eyes on her belly and cheers her on. “Come on. One more.”

“You said that already.”

“I know. This one. I’m sure of it.”

“I can see the head,” Cathy says, glancing at the monitor. “One more. A really big one, Sanaa. Give it everything you’ve got.”

Jiro looks between Sanaa’s legs, and the back of a baby head is out to his shoulders.

“I see him,” he says, kissing Sanaa’s forehead and smiling at her. “Not much more.”

The monitor start beeping as a new contraction comes, and Sanaa screams through it as the baby lands in Cathy’s hands. A tiny cry rings out through the room, and Sanaa breaks into tears. Cathy holds him up so Sanaa can see him.

“Here you go! Another beautiful son. Congratulations!”

Jiro rests his head on Sanaa’s, breathing in this moment, savoring it. They have a bigger family now. More kids to share their enormous bed with. One more son to love and enjoy.

Cathy expertly cleans him off and places him against Sanaa’s chest, skin on skin. He cries and cries, those small, quiet newborn cries, already nuzzling at her chest for a breast.

“What are you naming this beautiful boy?” Cathy asks, as the nurses and a surgeon work on stitching her up.

“Mark,” Sanaa says, her voice breaking. “Brothers reunited again.”

Lucy, who stood in the corner to watch, breaks out in a sob, so Jiro opens his arm to her and brings her in. She rests her head against his, letting her tears plop on the floor between them.

A roaring cheer explodes outside, the news traveling fast. Sanaa hands Mark back to Cathy reluctantly, watching him go. She weighs him and measures him, noting all of the numbers in the official database. Jiro turns back to Sanaa, letting Lucy go so she can dry her tears.

“Do you want to go to the window?”

“Can’t,” she says, yawning. “Still have the spinal block. You take him.”

“Are you sure?”

Sanaa nods and closes her eyes, wiped out. He strokes her hand, remembering their pact. Koichi, the oldest, will take the throne. They were going to stop the line, but the people will have none of that. The monarchy will live on, as far as they’re concerned, even if it’s just for show.

“Here,” Cathy says, handing Jiro the little bundle, wrapped in cotton cloth, a white hat upon his head, and draped in purple silk, embossed with a golden chrysanthemum. “Remember how to hold an infant?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jiro cradles him close to his chest and walks slowly to the door, lowering his lips to Mark’s ear. “My second son, you’ll be the head of Sakai Clan someday. I promise not to be too hard on you.”

Lucy draws the curtains aside on the full-length windows, swings them open, and Jiro raises his newborn son to the cheering crowd below.