Released – Chapter 40

Over the course of five days, the glue stitches I received after the fight slowly dissolve every time I take a shower, and my wound starts to heal. The cut was not very big, but it will most likely leave a scar. My first sword fighting scar. I’m stupidly proud of it, especially since I gave it to myself.

Beni and Mariko come by every morning to check in on us and bring breakfast, and though I love Beni and have never felt uncomfortable with her, I’m struggling with Mariko. I do my best to smile and make small talk, but I construct a bubble of personal space around her I don’t intrude on. I can see the physical strain at the corners of her eyes and mouth as she strives to be pleasant with me. I give her credit for even trying. I almost wish I never knew about her betrayal because I have a hard time faking it, hard time smiling even though I’m sad, hard time talking even though I want to sulk.

Fake it till you make it, Sanaa. I’ve been in this position before, and it got easier. I still breathe a huge sigh of relief every time she leaves.

I take Jiro’s advice and leave the building unattended for the first time ever, throwing Kazenoho over my shoulder, waving to the frozen security guards downstairs who have never seen me walk out the door alone, and cross the street to the grocery store.

“Miss Itami!” The owner, a little man named Kawabata, hurriedly runs to me while looking around. “Where is Jiro? Oyama?”

“I’m alone. It’s fine.” I squeeze his shoulder and smile, letting him know it’s okay I’m on my own.

I’m sure Kawabata would relax if I slipped into easy Japanese with him. He’s part of the older crowd in Ku 6 who have reverted back to using just Japanese unless dealing with non-Japanese. But they all think of me as ‘half’ regardless of my heritage. I didn’t grow up here, and they all know it, so I stick to English. I try not to cross too many lines with them.

“I came by to ask you about the young man you had working here.”

“He’s gone, Miss Itami. Never came back after the earthquake.”

“I figured as much. No one ever came to visit him?”

Kawabata shakes his head. “No. Never. He was very quiet, often standing at the front of the store and staring into space. He liked to listen to music.”

“Music?”

“He had headphones he would wear while stacking the shelves. It never bothered me or anyone else so I let it go.”

He was watching my building from across the street, observing me in my home, and I’d bet even money he wasn’t listening to music, he was listening to the bug in our apartment.

“Did he ever mention anyone? Family? Friends?”

Kawabata stops arranging some produce and taps his cheek, thinking. “He said he had a young lady he was interested in but that she was unavailable. He also mentioned a sister, but I got the feeling the sister was gone or estranged.”

Hmmm, interesting. Risa was ready and waiting, definitely available, so I don’t think she was the object of his affection. I need to try and find him again on surveillance. There may be a girl he’s had his eye on I can go to and interview. As for Sachi, I suspect they aren’t as close as I originally thought.

But there’s no time for research or surveillance. It’s time to say goodbye to Nishikyō.

Jiro and I travel around to all our old haunts, drinking in the sights and sounds of a city we’ll leave far behind. We return to the alley behind Izakaya Tanaka — it’s been closed a few weeks now — where we had our first kiss and to the tempura restaurant where we had our third date.

We visit Jiro’s grandmother and all of his young cousins who are not coming until third and fifth wave because the kids have growing to do before hibernating. We don’t even tell Mariko we’re visiting her family members. I don’t want to punish her for these past few months, but Jiro does. I’ve never seen him so cold to his mother. They don’t have the same easiness they used to have, and it makes me sick, especially when we visit my aunts and he’s relaxed with them. Aunt Lomo fawns over Jiro, and he smiles and softens so sweetly when she hugs him. The whole dynamic has changed.

Then it’s time to meet with Minamoto and Tamiko who will be on first wave with us. The visit is cool but vaguely pleasant with Tamiko being the more hospitable host of the two. Minamoto stays tight-lipped. Maybe he’s cursing the fact I’m still alive? I try not to let the hate show in my eyes. How this man ever donated DNA to Kentaro is a mystery.

Kentaro’s all ready to go too. His bags and belongings are being sent with his family, though, and they are leaving for the space elevator two days after us. He drops by the apartment for a chat while Jiro is out.

“The building will be lonely without you guys, so I’m going to go to Kevin’s in the intervening days. We broke up, but whatever. He’s been asking me to come.”

“He misses you,” I say with a little laugh. I can understand why.

“Maybe,” he says, cocking a crooked smile at me. “I don’t think I can sleep with him again, though.” He sighs and stares off into space, and I sit in agonizingly excited silence. Kentaro is actually talking about his sex life, and I’m extremely curious. Come on! Spill it!

“I just don’t know… Don’t know…” He stammers off, shaking his head.

“Don’t know what?” Oh, I hate myself for prying.

“Don’t know what I’m doing. I’m hoping, when we get to Yūsei, everything will be clearer. Anyway, I’ll see you later,” he says, waving at the door after slipping on his shoes at lightning speed.

Argh. Kentaro. Really, once he started smiling and being less of an idiot boy, he was actually quite enjoyable, and now I want to know more. I guess I have to wait.

Finally, our tour of Nishikyō brings us to the dōjō where I sit on the mats and weep openly. I love this place and everything it symbolizes for me, my awakening into adulthood, my passions and reasons for living. Who will practice here when we’re gone? Probably no one. Almost the entire Itō and Sakai family are going in the first wave. No one will be left to pound on the mats and clash swords in this space every day.

Today is Jiro’s twenty-third birthday, and in five more days, we’ll all be gone, heading to the space elevator and up to orbit. Everything but two boxes and two bags have been picked up and shipped to the space elevator, but I can’t help but gift him something.

“Can I give you your birthday present now?”

We’ve had our tea and coffee while snuggling on the couch, lazing about and enjoying a peaceful morning for once. Every day has been filled until now. The fifteenth of November has brought a cool wind, and the city is comfortable, as is our apartment. I do not miss summer.

Jiro kisses my temple and laughs. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I’ve wanted to give you this one thing.”

Throwing off our blanket, I run into the bedroom and pull the long box out from under the bed where I’ve been hiding it for a few weeks. “Close your eyes.”

He’s sitting with his eyes closed when I exit the bedroom. “You can probably tell what it is before you even open it but… Happy twenty-third birthday.”

He opens his eyes and smiles at the box as I set it on his lap.

“You’re not the only one who can give weapons as gifts.”

He pulls out one of my family wakizashi I had Beni retrieve from the storage space in Ku 9 before everything was taken away. This short sword has always been one of my favorites, and I remember Jiro eyeing it when we were in the storage space the first time. The blade is forged in the same manner as Oninoten and Kazenoho with the same signature stamp on the side. The blade and grip needed a lot of work though. Beni took it to Masa, Jiro’s distant cousin who made my shinobijō, and had the sword restored.

“It’s beautiful. You had it repaired? But, I can’t take your family heirlooms.”

“Jiro,” I say, wrapping my arms around him, “have you forgotten that we’re married now? They’re yours as much as mine. Besides, I don’t want this sitting in some box never being used. When I look at this sword, I know it was meant to be in your hands right next to Oninoten.” I let go but not before giving him a kiss. “Even if you never truly believe that all of those things in storage are yours as well, which they are, you should at least believe they are mine to be given away as I please. So there. Happy birthday.”

He sets down the sword and smiles at it for a moment.

“Thank you, love. I’ve always wanted my own wakizashi.” He reaches over to his tablet. “But, I think it’s entirely unfair you don’t get a birthday.”

I wave my hand at him and pick up my coffee. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll celebrate some other time.”

“Nope. You didn’t know this but I arranged the big dinner party tonight for you as well. Not just my birthday but our birthdays.”

“Jiro, you didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine without all the fuss.”

“Well, you can’t change it now, and I invited Chad and his girlfriend.”

“What?” I choke on my coffee, and Jiro laughs while pounding on my back. “I haven’t seen him since January.”

“You talk online all the time,” he murmurs straight into my ear before kissing my cheek. “I want to meet him before we go.”

He hands me his tablet. “So this is for you. I’ve worked on these for the last six months.”

My pulse pounds in my ears. I’ve seen Jiro on his tablet during quiet times or when I would come home from visiting with Sakai or Lucy or Mariko, and he would always turn it off and set it down. I knew he was drawing — that he would never stop drawing, of course. But, especially after Tanabata when I got the most excellent and happiest surprise of my life, I didn’t want to pry into his secrets. I didn’t think he was hiding things from me. He would show me eventually. I had to be patient. Patience is not something I’m good at, though. It has taken a lot of willpower not to sneak his tablet away and look for myself.

The first drawing is of the main room at the house in the desert, with me curled up on the couch sleeping. I catch my breath. I sometimes feel like that was the beginning of our life together, not the first time we ever clashed swords or the first time we saw each other on New Year’s Eve. Our time in the house changed us both.

“Swipe through. There are more.”

The next drawing is one of our apartment, the main room we’re sitting in now that shares space with the kitchen, our couch with my blanket on it, the coffee table with two steaming mugs, Jiro’s drawings on the wall. He even included my slippers I like to wear when the city temps dip low in the winter. I’m going to miss this apartment.

I start to cry looking at the third sketch of Izakaya Tanaka. It’s just how I remember with the maneki-neko along the walls, the hand-painted signs, and Miko stands at the bar with her cute short hair cut, her chin propped on her hand and smiling at Jiro. Did she pose for this or is this all from Jiro’s head?

I especially love the next one. Jiro must have spent a lot of time watching Kentaro and me fight with each other in the dōjō because the drawing is of me, with my back turned, tattoos facing Jiro. My staff is raised, and I’m blocking Kentaro who is striking down on me from above with determination on his face. I tilt the tablet to show Jiro, and he smiles.

“I never thought I’d draw Kentaro, but he’s become such a major part of our lives. Do you regret asking him to join us?”

I shake my head and wipe away my tears. “No. Not for a moment.”

“Me neither.”

The next sketch is of our bedroom. All of the things on our desk, our belongings on the shelves, and our rumpled bed which we never make. I have to stop looking because my tears are dropping on the tablet.

“Just two more, Sanaa.”

I let out a little laugh on the next one. I should have known that moment at the casino, when Jiro and I were leaving and he looked me over before calling a taxi, was being stored away for future use. I never checked myself in a mirror that whole night, and if this is what Jiro sees when I wear the little black dress, then I will definitely wear it more often. I especially love the expression on my face. It has that hint of evil Jiro says I get when I’m sexy, the same look I used to call him away from the poker table when I wanted to go home.

“That’s my favorite,” Jiro says, leaning forward.

“I gathered.”

“One more. I wanted to draw even more but, well, time has been short.”

I expect the sketch to be of us somehow, but it’s not. In all of the drawings Jiro has ever shown me, he’s never drawn himself. I will have to push him to draw self-portraits. Instead, the drawing is of me and Sakai, sitting at the table during Miko’s wedding. When I walked around the table to talk to him, I thought Jiro leaned over to chat with Usagi who was on his other side. No, he must have watched me the entire time. My hand is on the saké cup on the table, and Sakai and I are in deep conversation.

“This one feels especially personal.”

“Mark is important to you. He’s important to us all, but I think the two of you need each other, just as much as you and I do.”

“Almost as much,” I say, reaching out and holding his hand. “I don’t think I could go on without you.”

He shakes his head. “Me neither. We’re like two halves of the same person. I wasn’t whole until I met you.” He lifts my hand and presses it to his lips. “Happy twenty-first birthday, Sanaa.”