Reunited – Chapter 14

We offer to take Hideki, Kohaku, and Hiro back to Izumo via the shuttle so none of us have to hike. The town is a two-day walk to the north through mountain valleys, but Sakai knows a place outside of town we can land the shuttle and not be seen. Before we leave, I drop off my engagement ring to Helena. I don’t know how much jewelry these people wear, and I don’t want to be put in the situation of having to explain the ring or defend myself from thieves.

I hand over my ring to Helena, sad to remove it again, and she slips it on her right ring finger and promises to hold it for me while I’m gone. “And promise me you’ll watch over Akio and Kentaro while you’re there.”

“I will, but I think they’ll be watching over me.”

Helena smiles and slowly walks off in the direction of the main kitchen. “We both know you can take care of yourself, Sanaa.”

I sit with Kazenoho on my lap the entire shuttle ride, running my fingers over the grip, in and out of the diamonds, and down along the sheath. I take good care of this sword, my katana. Jiro and Usagi showed me how to clean and oil the blade, and I’m careful with the sheath because I don’t want it to become damaged. I love this thing. This sword is a part of my body the way it hugs my back so perfectly, the way the length becomes an extension of my arm when I draw it. My life without Kazenoho would not be complete.

Kohaku watches me from across the aisle. She was ambivalent about boarding the shuttle but followed everyone on anyway. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, her face is blank, her eyes directed at my hands and Kazenoho. She’s only eight to ten years older than me, her skin wrinkle-free, and her hair jet-black and wavy. We could be friends if I worked hard enough at a relationship. She’s probably never seen a woman carrying a sword. I wonder how common swords will be in Izumo. Do all men carry them? Maybe no one does but the military or police? Will Jiro be out of place carrying two? I’ve been going over the possibilities in my head and making myself sick with worry. I smile meekly at Kohaku before closing my eyes and resting my head on Jiro’s shoulder. The sound of the shuttle always makes me tired.

When we land on the outskirts of town, Kohaku, Hideki, and Hiro lead us in along a main road that snakes out of the mountains and into Izumo before branching off into other side avenues. Now that we’re walking, I need to loosen the collar of my shirt because this area of the continent is ten degrees warmer than Yamato. It’s mid-April and spring is in full swing here. The trees have small green buds and flowers are opening up along the roadside.

We’re not the only travelers on this road walking into the city. Another family is in front of us, and we fall into step behind them, careful to copy their posture and behavior. They’re obviously tired from traveling a long distance but otherwise look happy and confident, so I mimic them and soon everyone else has fallen into the same rhythm.

“You’ll want to avoid speaking English in our town unless you’re alone, though there are plenty of people that use it. Your accent is wrong. Curfew for women is ten in the evening.”

“What? Curfew?” Mariko stumbles over a rock and Sakai catches her shoulder.

“Only sex workers are allowed out at night.”

Sex workers? I dealt with my ambivalent feelings surrounding the amount of prostitution that happened in and out of Maeda’s love hotels, but this is on a whole new level of wrong. Men and women are already on uneven footing here.

Kohaku hikes her bag farther up onto her back and holds Hiro’s hand. “So you will want to be sure you’re indoors by that time unless it’s an emergency. Please also make note of the bars and izakayas that are for men only. Our eating establishments are not as forgiving as yours.”

Kohaku’s one night out in our town must have been more of a shock than she let on. Hideki and Sakai went out drinking the night before but Kohaku begged off, then we brought them all out for that dinner, even Hiro, and they were out late. Jiro and I had the house to ourselves for more than two hours that night.

I don’t want to do this. No. Let’s go back to our town, build walls, and never let anyone in. That sounds like an excellent idea. No one’s been in Yamato but us for over ten years anyway. I’m sure we could keep them away for good. In fact, if we build enough high rises we should be able to contain everyone from Earth in that one little spot. Yes, an excellent idea.

Walking behind Jiro, watching our swords on his back, I start to sweat. I push the fear away because once it hits my face everyone will be able to tell I’m weak. I can’t be weak. I stamp the fear, the apprehension, the anxiety way down in my gut, and I sit on it like an overstuffed suitcase I’m trying to zip closed, hoping it doesn’t explode when someone jostles the handle.

The town outskirts are similar to Yamato, the same cream colored structures, dark wood-framed windows and clay tiled roofs, but all of the buildings are occupied. People come and go from businesses, this one a bakery, that one a noodle shop, this one a general store. Women work in the balconies sweeping or banging out rugs and futons. Springtime means spring cleaning. In the narrow streets between the buildings, two old men sweep litter off the cobblestones and wash them down when they’re done.

I’m near the back of our party, getting caught up looking at everything, when a rhythmic and hollow noise echoes off the dwellings around us.

“Sanaa, step aside quickly.” Oyama pushes me off to the side as a horse (a horse!) comes galloping up behind us. The horse scrambles to a stop, his hooves trying to gain purchase on the cobblestone streets while the rider pulls back on the reins.

“Whoa! Stop, Kazuki!” The horse stops a meter from me, and the rider leans forward and swats Kazuki on the neck. Kazuki neighs and snaps at his rider’s hand. “Sorry to frighten you. He got a scent and took off.” This man speaks the same Japanese dialect our new Izumo friends speak, and I translate everything in my head. “He does like women, though.” He winks at me, his face adorned with a warm smile and a close-cropped dark beard. Oyama clears his throat as Jiro steps to my side.

“It probably is her fault,” Jiro says, addressing him in the perfect imitation of their Japanese dialect. I love watching Jiro do these things he was trained his whole life to do. “She has a way with animals.”

I’m afraid to say anything and give away our foreign status so I smile instead and play demure, moving behind Jiro a half-step. If women on this planet are meek, that’s what I’ll have to be until we can come out to these people. Kazuki moves forward as I step back, and his face and nose reach around Jiro to poke at my shoulder. Jiro chuckles as he’s shifted to the side by the neck of this horse, and I squeal trying to get out of the way.

“Kazuki!” The rider pulls on the reins. Kazuki relents and clops back. “I swear, I’ve never seen him do that, and he’s been my horse for eight years.”

Jiro smiles and waves his hand, being as amenable as possible. “It’s fine. Like I said, she has a way with animals.”

I’m intrigued by this horse who wanted to see me so badly he ran and almost threw off his long-time owner. I swallow my fear of using their dialect wrong and open my mouth. “May I?” I ask, reaching out my hand.

Kazuki leans his head into my hand, a soft huff emanating from deep in his throat. He’s solid and warm. The hair on his forehead, brown with a patch of white, is smooth and dotted with dirt after a day’s ride. I reach up on my tip-toes, anchoring my other hand on Jiro’s shoulder, and scratch between Kazuki’s eyes. He breathes lightly against my forearm before pulling back.

“He’s so beautiful. Thank you.” I bow to cover up my smile. Another animal I wish I could take home, though he clearly belongs to this man.

The rider tips his short-brimmed straw hat at me and smiles again before turning Kazuki away and heading in the opposite direction. We both glance back at each other though before he turns the corner. It’s been a long time since anyone openly flirted with me, but this man smiled and winked at me right in front of Jiro. Jiro leans over and kisses me on the temple with a light laugh. I can only imagine what’s going through his head.

The action in the street picks back up again. Everyone stopped to watch the horse and the girl meet and then part. It only took a few minutes, but I know I’ll love horses for the rest of my life now.

—-

The ryokan is a small but lovely inn two blocks away from the Watanabes’ home. Ryokans in Old Japan were small, home-like lodgings that specialized in good food and a quiet place to stay, and this place fits the definition perfectly. The Watanabes know the owners, a little old man and woman, and secured the place for us for three nights.

The main space is two large rooms with tatami mats, divided by sliding doors, an entranceway, a small kitchen, two bathrooms, and a washing room off the back. It’s functional and clean but not luxurious like our estate, and I thought our estate was old and backwards when we first moved in. The lady who runs the ryokan reiterates that the curfew for women is ten PM, and we can feel free to have the run of the house while we’re here.

We eat tempura dinner at a fancy restaurant using the money Sakai procured his first weeks on the planet by selling goods to a pawn shop. I find talking for long lengths of time in this Japanese dialect tires me, so after an hour, I sit silently at the table and listen to everyone else while sipping on saké. The other diners don’t notice we’re any different so we must be acting appropriately. Jiro and I hold hands under the table, his long fingers traveling up and down mine and always coming to rest on the spot where my ring should be. I’m naked without it.

We women separate from the men at the ryokan just before ten, and I’m so wiped I’m ready for bed. When we enter the ryokan, the owners bow to us and smile.

“We’ve laid out the futons for the evening and will be back in the morning to serve breakfast around seven. Sleep well.” They’re polite and sweet and bow to us several times before slipping on their shoes and letting themselves out to walk home.

Two double futons are on one side of the room, and three singles and another double on the other. Mariko and Beni will sleep together, as will Jiro and I. Oyama gets a double because he’s so large, and Kentaro, Sakai, and Usagi can all sleep alone.

“We’re going to go out drinking and listen in on conversations, Mariko,” Sakai says, slipping a knife into the waistband of his pants. Jiro has Oninoten on his back. We shared the streets with several people carrying swords today. “Would you like me to leave someone?”

“I’d be happy to stay behind if you’d like,” Usagi offers.

I smile at him but shake my head at the same time Mariko does. “We’ll be fine. Go and investigate. Tomorrow, let’s be sure to buy saké and snacks for us in the evening. I don’t want to be stuck here without food and drinks two nights in a row.”

“I could go out and get some now.” Oyama grabs his coat, but I wave him off.

“It’s fine. I’m ready for bed anyway.”

“Me, too.” Beni stretches and yawns.

Sakai, Kentaro, Usagi, and Oyama all turn to go but Jiro hangs back and hugs me. “Be safe.” He squeezes me extra long, and I hang on, though everyone waits for him outside, and Beni and Mariko are standing right next to us.

When he lets go, he walks over to our bags, grabs Kazenoho, and hands it to me. “Sleep with it. Arm yourself when you can. I don’t like the idea of you without your sword. At all.”

I clutch Kazenoho to my chest, immediately relieved.

Then he’s gone.